The ghost of Cranberry Justice (The Blog)

I've Decided to Transplant my Blog

2009-10-08T18:13:00.000-05:00

I've been stuck with the name Cranberry Justice for too long. It was a silly name suggested by my friend Dave back when I believed I could make money on the internet with a hilarious, rarely updated website consisting of flash fiction, interesting photos, and occasionally amusing cartoons.

Having decided on a better name, I've come to the conclusion that while I may lose a few followers who find clicking a link from this post to my new blog (or even bookmarking my new blog) to be a task all too arduous, the time has come for change.

If you wish to follow me onward and upward to greater glory click the following link:

http://ivejustcomeacrosssomethinginteresting.blogspot.com/

Children are not Interesting

2009-10-06T00:18:00.001-05:00

I dislike when people say children are deep.

Children aren't deep.

Children are simple.

Sure children can be smart, just not actually... "smart for a child", much in the same way a little-league team can be good at baseball but would be handily crushed by most major-league teams (except those jokers from whatever city we consider to be our rivals, am I right fellas?) or a six year-old might excel at painting — while there's no simple standard for judging artistic talent I feel it worth noting that for every "child prodigy" there seems to be an elephant who's supporters are equally enthusiastic.

What I imagine is likely the case, when such claims are made as "my son just said the most profound thing, he said 'if some people have more money than they need why don't they give the rest to other people?'" it's generally made by someone who spends so much time with their child that they have to justify this effort by convincing them-self the child isn't simply repeating something from television, or what is more likely true, exposing their vastly inadequate grasp of a humanity in which acquiring sex and twelve-year-old scotch is not yet a concern.

Or maybe the parent's standards have been skewed by the almost constant exposure to the retarded logic of a group of (yet-to-be) people who respond mostly to things that fall down, over-generalized statements, and broad facial gestures.

But most egregiously, when someone says children are deep, or wise, or like unto the Buddha, what's being said is, "because of something obvious or counter-intuitive a child has said, I have ascertained or been able to reinforce an insight I've entertained that I think is just so damned clever and because people often respond poorly when I start a conversation with the words 'I just had a deep thought', I must preface the point with the phrase 'you know, kids are smarter than we think'".

This isn't to suggest people shouldn't tell children they're insightful, because clearly children need to be lied to — just like women, police officers, and everyone else.

But saying a child is deep demeans us all.

Wisdom and depth is not innate.

Parroting a deep thought does not imbue the speaker with substance anymore than sending a photo of Chagall's La Mariee to your printer makes you an influential twentieth-century Russo-French artist who wears a funny sweater in the photo they used for his Wikipedia entry.

Depth is in our ability to fathom a complex truth — or unravel an almost-pun so self-satisfying for the author it boarders on onanism.

It's much like saying "God created a beautiful landscape because when we look at this lake we are moved by it's beauty."

A lake is not inherently beautiful.. or maybe it is, but on its own a lake is not beautiful, we must recognize the beauty in it (or not... some lakes suck).

But I am certain, when we find the beauty in a lake, we are mistaken to applaud the lake (and even more so to praise god — which ought to go without saying) as it is our ability to identify beauty that ought to be lauded... to say nothing of appreciation.

Feeling Kinda Bummed

2009-10-03T01:07:00.000-05:00

My new plan is to become more and more pathetic until awesome things are forced into my life, not unlike air into a vacuum.

That probably doesn't have to be air.

I bet a lot of things can rush into a vacuum.

Something I Realized while Watching Rachel Maddow

2009-10-01T05:06:00.002-05:00

In the interest of honesty, I was not watching Rachel Maddow but rather listening to the podcast of her show which I downloaded from iTunes, but as I listened I discovered Washington lobbyist Rick Berman , of the PR firm Berman and Company, who is apparently involved in a campaign against the group Accorn (and also happens to be the estranged father of singer/songwriter David Berman of The Silver Jews).

According to Rachel Maddow, Mr. Berman has been involved in creating ads championing:

- The health benefits of High-fructose Corn Syrup (http://sweetscam.com/)

- The cholesterol, cancer, and disease fighting properties of Trans-fats (http://www.trans-fatfacts.com/)

- Tanning's cancer-fighting properties (sunlightscam.com... as of now I can't get the page to load)

- Eating more fish containing high-levels of Mercury (advising pregnant women to eat more fish). (http://fishscam.com/)

- Drunk Driving, attacking MADD while claiming drunk driving should be considered an act of freedom.

After some cursory research I've learned Berman has also been involved in ads utilizing disinformation to downplay the dangers of Mad Cow Disease and villify:

- raising Minimum Wage

- the Center for Science in the Public Interest

- the Teacher's Union

- attempts to overhaul Health Care

- PETA (well... a broken clock, I guess)

I suppose what I realized is from now on, if, while I'm arguing with someone or thinking of a funny tangent to offer on one of my blog posts, I reach into my memory and draw out an astonishing fact that I may possibly have learned while watching a commercial, I will make every effort to abstain from disseminating this information... which is to say, if we're ever talking and you have something you want to tell me that you may have heard in a commercial, I'd rather you just shut the fuck up.

I've Got a New Blog

2009-09-30T02:47:00.002-05:00

I've decided to start another blog. As of this moment I don't have a plan for what I'll use it for, how it will differ from this blog, and why I've bothered to... well, I do know why I bothered, and I hope that should be clear to anyone who's reading this.

If you'd like to check out my new blog, which has absolutely no content (at this point, but maybe soon), feel free to click the following link:
http://ivejustcomeacrosssomethinginteresting.blogspot.com/

Hey

2009-09-29T03:44:00.002-05:00

Looking at my keyboard I am forced to wonder why they wrote "caps lock" in lower-case letters?

I Have Nothing To Do

2009-09-28T09:09:00.002-05:00

There is nothing going on.
There is nothing coming up.
There is nothing for which I must prepare.

There is nothing to count down to, nothing to agonize over, and nothing to keep me awake in bed wringing my sheets with my worried little fingers.

There is nothing to do right now, there will likely be something to do later but I don't know what or when that will be, and because there is nothing to do right now I feel pretty good.

Cleaned my Room Today

2009-09-24T21:49:00.005-05:00

After waking up, I looked around, noticed I had a lot of things lying on my floor, stacked on my dresser, and shoved under my bed (not intentionally, just as a result of being on my floor near my bed while I stumble about in the dark), and I decided to do something about it.

Even made my bed.

And I had no ulterior motive.

In the process of cleaning I managed to find nothing of interest.

I have this idea of cleaning that involves unearthing fascinating relics and marveling at how they could have been so thoughtlessly lost in the piles of useless notes, old plastic-bags, and lightly-worn blue jeans. My fruitless search for interesting miscellany left me disheartened.

So I tightened the handles on my dresser drawers.

Later, I stole some rocks (from nature) and put them in my mother's front-garden.

Today is a typical day in my life.

It is my understanding that some people I know have been put in charge of things; I don't know how I feel about this.

Here's a Thing I Didn't Know

2009-09-22T02:55:00.003-05:00

When applying for a retail job online sometimes you have to take a quiz.

As I am applying for a retail job, online, I just took one of these tests. I assumed this was going to be a personality quiz, one of those inane ones where they ask if you think you're good at making friends in a dozen different ways and then slip in "do you think it's all right to steal from your employer?" just in case you'd have forgotten you were in fact applying for a job.

And there was such a quiz, but it was administered after a first quiz which involved basic math skills, some verbal questions, and a strange series of exercises in which they provided a definition and then asked that I choose the first letter of the word for which the offered definition would likely belong.

I ought to mention that I have been drinking.

So, what I suppose was intended as a basic competency test proved more of the field-sobriety variety of examinations.

If I may add, in my defense, I likely wouldn't have done much better on the math had I been clear-minded (though I doubt, if I do get an interview I'd offer this bit of information) and that asking what letter a word corresponding to an offered definition begins with is ridiculous.

Especially given that there are a great deal of words.

If I remember correctly there are supposed to be anywhere from a quarter to three-fourths of a million words in the English language... and let's not get bogged down in the issue of spelling.

So when they offer "an opening in a wall that lets light and air through" and then supply the choices: JHWS, I am forced to wonder whether they mean a hole, a hemorrhage, a window, a wound, a split, a seam, a slit, or an amount of space (and space most definitely begins with the letter s) . I could not think of any words that begin with the letter j... so I did not chose that. Maybe a poorly caulked joint, but that's more of a phrase.

And what if instead of the most fitting (which is more than likely meant to mean the most common response) they are actually quite clever and have a computer that knows when I chose h I was imagining the word hole and that while a window might best describe a specific hole in a wall the word hole is in fact more fitting because a window (a properly constructed window) does not allow air into a room unless it is open and an open window is in fact little more than a fancy (some might say pretentious) hole?

I Find I Tend to go to Bed Hoping to Feel Better in the Morning More Often than I Used to

2009-09-19T03:41:00.002-05:00

It might have something to do with the wine I try to drink before bed (which isn't to say I have to try very hard). Alcohol, as I understand it, is a diuretic and as such I suppose it's possible to suggest I may theoretically in some way sort of be dehydrating myself on a fairly regular basis.

Or maybe it's because I'm drunk.

I'm a little bummed out tonight.

When I'm feeling better I think I'd like to write about (or ask questions in relation to) people who oppose hate crime legislation on the grounds that people ought not be tried twice for a single crime and that making what's in a person's mind (when they commit a crime) illegal is tantamount to prosecuting for thought crime.

I'd like to think I understand the objection, but I wonder (as I often do) whether proponents of this objection would thus be forced to object to legislation concerned with prosecuting for acts of terrorism.

Or maybe it would just be easier to agree that terrorism is bad (and prosecutable because in addition to the acts of murder we can condemn the act of using murder to frighten in hopes of altering the social or political landscape) and then agree that hate crimes are very much terrorism.

Could be there's no case to be made though.

It's entirely possible my understanding of terrorism isn't based on the legal definition and that my understanding of hate crime legislation has been colored by my want to have a clever thing to say about hate crime legislation opponents being hypocritical.

But it seems to me there is a case to be made that hate crimes (while maybe not conspiratorial in nature) stem from the want to punish people for not fitting into a myopic, perverted view of what society should be... which is to say, an effort to affect social change by use of violence and to instill fear (by means of letting other potential victims know they are vulnerable to random acts of violence by upstanding elementary-school drop outs).

It's just a thought I've been having.

Also, I read recently that less than three percent of Oklahoma high-school students can pass a United States Citizenship test, and that just about a quarter of them were able to correctly name the first president of our nation as George Washington (though I've read a man named John Hanson was technically named president of Congress... or president of the Colonies... before the revolutionary war ended... so maybe all those kids just got confused and thought the test was asking about that).

I remember reading (when I was in high-school) that an overwhelming amount of high-school students felt that the press in this country has "too much freedom" and that the president ought to have more control over what the press is allowed to write.

I'd like to think the number was less than 97 percent of high-school students, but it has been a few years, so maybe stupidity is in fact a sexually transmitted infection (which would explain why I'm still so damned clever wouldn't it? Wait... fuck).

To be fair, that poll was conducted after 2002, and I believe the author suggested an influencing factor to be the push to patriotism in the wake of September eleventh (they also expressed fear for how children coming to grasp the world during the frenzy of political ambiguity in the years following 2001 might understand the role of government).

I've also heard that the No Child Left Behind Act does not require teachers to teach civics and as a result many students don't learn anything at all about their government.

But I think this proves (or at least offers a dramatic show of support) for my time-tested theory that children are fucking stupid.

I've Got a Test in Three Hours

2009-09-17T12:47:00.002-05:00

Three hours from now I'll be taking the GRE.

Yesterday I decided to try the practice test in my GRE prep booklet, because it seemed like a good idea to remember what it's like to answer questions by filling in little bubbles. As a result, I now realize I'm entirely unprepared for this examination.

I thought I would be fine. I believe I've written about this somewhere else, but I spent the last month pretty sure I was going to kick ass at this.

I had not however, during that month, had any occasion to multiply any two-digit numbers together. Had I done such, I'd probably have discovered I don't in fact know how to multiply two-digit numbers.

What's nine times twelve? I know the answer is 108 because 120 (which is twelve times ten) minus twelve is 108. So nine times twelve should be 108 (and I'm pretty sure it is), but when I try to multiply nine times twelve I invariably end up with 144.

As I was typing this I just remembered how to multiply two-digit numbers.

I'm pretty sure it's because I'm drinking coffee. I wasn't drinking coffee yesterday. I spent an hour and a half trying to multiply nine times twelve.

Today it took less than a minute... and not just to accomplish the multiplying, but to teach myself how to multiply.

So that's improvement, right?

Think I'm Going to Drown Myself in a River... or a Retention Pond, because I Don't Live Near a River

2009-09-14T01:28:00.002-05:00

The skin on the back of my hands is peeling. For some reason I thought to myself, when I was in Florida, applying my crazy strong sun-screen (SPF 55... that's high right?) to my face, neck, ears, and again on my neck, "I don't need to protect my arms from sun damage, because I don't put my hands over my head very often and as such they are significantly further from the sun than my head, to which I applied many SPF's".

So my arms got burned.

Mildly burned.

Less a painful burn than an itchy burn.

And not that itchy.

I believe fate has decided (in that way it can't because fate is not cognizant... or existent) to afflict me with the most minor of torments one can imagine.

They don't seem to be escalating in severity nor compiling into some unbearable pressure beneath which I have no choice but to be crushed to fuck.

Here's some stuff meant to illustrate my point:

- I've been lying on my stomach while blogging and my lower back and abs are starting to hurt. I turned onto my side and now I'm fine.

- My mother (who is in town) ate the last of the rice I made yesterday. I ate cereal instead.

- My pants are getting tight. They still fit. But they're getting tight.

- I got stood up by someone who asked if she could sleep on my couch last night, which isn't to say she asked to sleep on my couch rather than have sex with me, but rather that she called and asked if she could sleep on my couch and then never showed up. Somehow this made me sad.

- I bought sorbet today, and sherbet... I do not yet know the difference. While at the store I got the distinct impression the older lady (read: sexy, sexy adult lady) wanted to have sex with me because she winked at me when I thanked her for putting the plastic divider between her groceries and my bottles of wine.

Later, the girl bagging made a joke about Texas being "civil" (because I've still got a Texas driver's license) after which I made a joke (both hilarious and witty) about people civilly shouting for succession in the capital.

She stared at me blankly.

Either I wasn't funny (not fucking likely) or she didn't recognize the word succession.

As a result I fear I'm too smart to be happy with the people I meet while I'm out on the town but not smart enough to impress east-coast elitists like Natalie Portman.

- I can't think of anything else to add, which is itself mildly annoying. I'm blogging... so it's not like it matters, but I'd still like to have a list that is less shitty.

God Damn It

2009-09-12T01:11:00.002-05:00

I was painting today.

Somehow, I assume it was while attempting to unscrew a cap fused shut with dried oil paint, I managed to... I'm not actually sure what verb I want here... I've got a blister is the thing, but I don't know if I accumulated a blister, fostered the growth of a blister... I suppose developed a blister fits.

There's a blister on my hand, in the crook of my thumb (I'll let you try to figure out to where exactly I'm referring), or there was until I discovered it and then scratched the fuck out of it and picked at the flap of skin and was left with a tiny red hole in a fold of my palm that, if I move my thumb in any direction, burns like the devil.

The fucking devil.

Here's a Weird Thing

2009-09-09T19:17:00.002-05:00

Today I have a headache.

I think it's part of the mild cold/flu like illness I picked up by being on an airplane (or rather two airplanes... and the most famous theme park in the world... so all things considered I was probably stupid not to expect being infected).

To remedy the dull pain beneath my eyes and behind my nose I took some aspirin and soon found my nose, which had been running for the past three days but recently seemed to have abated, dripping. Without thinking I reached for a tissue, took a deep breath, and blew with all my might (which is not true at all, but I think it sounds good).

As I pulled the tissue from my face I discovered it (and later the bottom half of my face) spattered with bright red blood... thick blood too... still kind of mucus-y.

It's not the first time I've blown my nose and covered something with blood (usually a sink or a glass shower-door because this looks pretty cool) but I can't remember doing so without some knowledge that one of my precious liquids was about to be expelled with great force (my imprecious liquids include: urine, saliva, sweat, and semen — which has not, as of yet, proven in any way useful).

Stay tuned for more hard hitting, ground breaking journalism from the good folks here at Cranberry Justice.

I Should have Paid more Attention to my US History Course in High School

2009-08-31T17:45:00.002-05:00

I learned today, by reading an over-sized laminated flier about the United States Government, that I have been misusing the phrase 'representative government' for at least a decade.

Well, sort of.

It seems I might have been using it correctly, as far as grammar and syntax is concerned, and likely most of the statements I made can be considered valid.

I would compare it to people who use idioms such as, "for all intensive purposes", "it's a doggie-dog world", or "separating the weak from the champs" (which I'm not sure anyone actually says, but if they did it would fit nicely into my analogy).

My understanding of representative government has been that as a citizen we elect a representative to do our governing, which isn't entirely incorrect, but I also believed the difference between a democracy and a republic to be that in a democracy the citizens are directly involved in the process of governance, voting on bills and such.

But the laminated guide to US Government would have me believe the difference between a republic and a democracy is that in a republic representatives are elected to use their best judgment to govern, whereas in a democracy representatives are elected to vote for their constituents, which is to say, senators from a blue state are expected to vote blue and red states' senators red.

So I guess the actual misunderstanding was in differentiating between a democracy and a direct democracy.

But the laminated guide to democracy seems to suggest it's anyone's guess as to whether our nation is a republic or a democracy, at least in action. I suspect this was more or less a hyperbolic assertion, meant to raise the issue of a shift in what we, as citizens, expect from our representatives; do they better serve their constituents as a partisan ballot caster or are they not only free to vote as they wish, but expected to rely on their own judgment?

I am certain I should have been made aware of this earlier.

It's not something I've ever considered.

This isn't to say I wasn't aware representatives are free to vote as they like, nor had I ignored the roar of political advisers threatening politicians who were not serving their constituents' interests with expulsion from their lofty office.

I suppose I just hadn't realized these were two different political ideologies, somewhat at odds with one another.

Sometimes when I learn things I feel a rush of accomplishment, other times I feel like an idiot.

Hmm...

2009-08-29T22:44:00.005-05:00

I keep hearing people criticize the president because he hasn't been able to garner as much support for his health care bill as he did during the election, essentially that his supporters are lazy and that they can't care enough to get involved in politics.

I find the assertion confusing and offensive... but mostly confusing.

What the fuck am I supposed to do?

I voted.

That's my part.

America has a representative government.

I voted for a representative to deal with this.

I would understand if the criticism was "liberals voted for an environmentalist president but they won't go outside and pick up their fast-food wrappers." That makes sense to me. I would criticize those people.

But what am I supposed to do about health care?

I want health care. I voted for the guy who said he'd get us some health care.

Am I supposed to step outside and start giving people health care? Or do they want me to find a doctor and demand he treat me for no money? Should I just send the government a fraction of the money I was supposed to be paying the insurance companies?

No one tells me this shit.

They just bitch about how Americans don't want to get involved with the process.

They're so desperate to color Americans as lazing fat-asses who can't be bothered to make their own lives better that they'd willfully compare me (and my like) unfavorably with people who bring guns to town hall meetings, shout ignorant shit at politicians (whom they criticize for not answering constituent's questions, which they would, were there not thirty idiots shouting at them for the length of the event), and spend at least an afternoon constructing a big-assed poster of Obama with a Hitler mustache for their eight year-old to wave as the president's motorcade rolls through town.

Is that what they want from us?

Is that what getting involved means?

Do I have to make an un-clever sign and behave like an irritable toddler to be a real American?

I'm Angry

2009-08-23T20:47:00.002-05:00

I'm angry god damn it.

I've a list of grievances, but topping that list is a metaphysical complaint about my list of grumblings, namely that I've no way of sharing this list (thus alleviating my dismay) without sounding petulant and small.

It's as if no one's allowed to complain anymore. The moment you suggest you've been somehow vexed by fortune people will leap at the chance to admonish you for being self-pitying, making things difficult, or worst of all, having the gall to suggest there's no one in the world who's got it as bad as you, even though that's not in the least bit what you've said, but for some reason because someone in the world is living below the poverty line (and by someone I mean a vast amount of people), I'm not allowed to be bothered, my complaints are unfounded because I've not lost the use of my legs in a terrible act of violence, and things surely can't be all that bad because I'm not currently on fire.

And they use that smug, self-righteous, and worst of all incredulous tone.

"Oh, you think you've got problems?"

Yes. Yes I do.

"Well I'm going to tell you why you don't, but I'm not actually going to address your problems, I'm just going to tell you how bad you should feel for thinking you've got anything to complain about because I know a guy who lost both his testicles whilst scuba-diving. I bet you didn't even consider that before you started crying about your problems. Look at you, sitting there with two perfectly normal testicles, just living it up with your fully functioning genitalia."

In summation, I'm angry.

Damn it.

Enviornmental Factors

2009-08-21T13:44:00.003-05:00

I find when I'm hungry I don't care for most people.

When I'm exhausted I tend to lose hope, my eyes water, and sometimes I get an erection.

Generally, if I'm not around people I start to hate them.

I've Decided to Take the GRE

2009-08-17T04:22:00.002-05:00

I looked into it, and apparently the GRE is good for five years.

I feel I might want to be in graduate school in fewer than five years and as it is I can't remember having taken a standardized test since Cell Molecular Biology, which I took first semester sophomore year (so four years ago?).

Unfortunately I have learned there is a math portion on this test. I'm not excited about this. I don't feel it will matter, because the test is divided into sections (like the SAT... which I did not take), but it would have been nice to have said, "I haven't used math on a test since I was seventeen."

In one month I will be taking a step towards furthering my education, a step many of my contemporaries took two or three years ago. I've decided to focus more on how I'm getting the process started than how I've decided to schedule my becoming a grown up plan.

One thing I notice, which I feel ought to be troubling, is how not anxious I am for this test.

I remember other people (mostly those bound for law school) buzzing around campus, shivering with dread, and checking stacks of books out of the library with which to build forts they might hide behind (I assume).

I also remember thinking, "thank god I'm not planning on graduate school."

It is possible I've retained my skepticism as to whether or not I'll be attending graduate school, it's likely I'm not aware of how difficult this test might be, and it's almost a certainty I've become entirely apathetic about test-taking (having inoculated myself against test anxiety with four years of Liberal Arts and two spent letting the routine and demands of academia become a distant, warm memory).

I think I had this feeling about the ACT though. I can't remember much about high school. I took a Saturday morning course on ACT prep (which lasted three weeks) through the school, and I'm sure I must have been anxious... I was a nervous person... but even then, I think I had the notion I could strive to cram some extra knowledge into my mind but ultimately decided this was silly.

I kind of feel I might as well just take the test, see what my score is, and accept that this is where I am.

Somehow in my head this felt less like glorifying mediocrity than it seems to read.

Maybe I'll consider brushing up on the math tomorrow morning.

Strange thing I saw on CNN

2009-08-15T20:56:00.003-05:00

CNN has been rerunning a special report called Generation Islam in which Christiane Amanpour travels the Middle East (I didn't watch the whole thing, but I believe I saw her in Afghanistan, Pakistan, and Palestine) examining how children are being influenced by the religious, social, and political aspects of being Muslim.

I noticed, as I was warming two day old spaghetti, she interviewed an American former mountain-climber current school teacher (or builder) and the author of a book my mother has been insisting I read. He's become famous for building schools for girls in places where schools for girls generally get burned down by extremist thugs.

During the interview the local chief of police mentioned, with a full, toothed grin, that he'd issued a shoot to kill order on anyone found harassing, intimidating, or otherwise messing with the young girls who go to this man's school.

It was so heartwarming an authorization of murder I felt in no way morally obligated to oppose it.

Critics of Health Care and their Impossible Standards

2009-08-12T06:54:00.004-05:00

I've noticed a lot of conservative (and I'm referring to television-conservatives so maybe this doesn't really apply to anyone) criticism for the health reform bill in congress on the grounds that it's got "like a thousand pages."

Conversely, I've been hearing a lot of liberal (and the television- prefix still applies) criticism of Obama, and other democrats, for not explaining health care in a way that can be easily understood by the general public.

The first response seems clear enough. Republicans are offended by the notion they have to stay up late cramming (even though the bill seems to have been around for a while now... just saying... in college I remember reading several thousand pages in a much shorter amount of time), and I suppose democrats are upset because their politicians aren't selling this bill with that P. T. Barnum-esque panache we so expect from middle-aged to incredibly-elderly lawyers.

Both objections condemn health care reform as too complicated (which conservatives love because they can feign exhaustion when asked as to where in the bill it's explained how funding will be allocated for the roaming gangs of death-squad-claims-adjusters, and the liberals can pretend they've got a great bill with seven amendments guaranteeing weekly oral sex by trained medical students while ensuring, in the event of colossal failure, responsibility will fall on the base because voters don't care enough to get involved... even though we did... when we elected representatives — and on that note, why are the conservatives shouting at democrats for not representing them? They've got their own guys. Why aren't they shouting at those guys?).

And I can appreciate this argument. I don't like when things are complicated. I like when things aren't complicated and I get to wake up, eat some yogurt, and download pornography, but, what I don't understand is why an average citizen feels the need to grasp the inner-workings of an issue they've elected (arguably) some very competent people to deal with.

I don't understand how my laptop works. I don't understand how my car works. I don't understand how an electro-chemical signal sent along the length of a neuron from one portion of my brain to another breaks the barrier between the physical exchange of sodium and potassium (which shifts the polarity of the cell triggering a signal to release certain neurotransmitters, which are themselves absorbed by some lock and key function on the dendrites of the next neuron) and the ethereal to become the self-indulgent inner monologue upon which the viability of this blog depends.

And these things bother me.

I'd like to know how to tie a necktie (I'm going to google it), I'd like to know how to pick up beautiful women who happen to be geniuses who are so passionate about liberalism and social issues I'd be forced to read more newspapers and start accomplishing great and unexpected deeds just to keep up (I'm not googling this), and I'd like very much to know how to stop being irritated after reading an innocuous article in the New York Times, in which the author uses the phrase "maybe Shakespeare got it wrong when he said" and then proceeds to quote a portion of a play in which the speaker is employing subtle (depending on the actor) propaganda to incite mob violence against a couple stab-happy roman senators, to pad out some contrived ending for his piece by inserting what must be a literary quote because hey, it's goddamn Shakespeare (a man who was not by any means infallible, in fact I've read he very famously couldn't manage to spell his own name — it was the style at the time — and yet I object to presenting a line taken out of context from a work of fiction, written to be ironic, as if it were the central thesis of some long-winded political philosophy).

But there is a reason I don't understand some of these things-I-don't-understand and that reason is I haven't bothered to learn about them (or that they're "above my pay grade" as some successful young man said in response to being asked about an important social issue made insipid by a California pastor who shoe-horned the question into an ontological abstract on a faith-based forum months before this young man was elected president).

If I wanted to understand the health care reform bill I suppose I could try reading it, yes, all one thousand pages (I'm assuming it's available to be read by the public... if not then I guess I'm really just admonishing the whinier members of congress), and if I happen to accomplish that and still have no idea what's in the bill I could try going to law school, medical school, or economics school (I know they probably just call that grad school for economics, but I didn't want to disrupt my flow), and if I happen to accomplish those feats and still have no idea what's in this bill I could try rounding up a posse of big-brained east-coast types and have them write a series of essays I could then read.

Or, I could just not do any of that and accept that I don't need to understand the health care reformation bill in the same way I don't need to understand how my laptop works or why women don't find my arrogance as charming as I believe it to be.

And, speaking of arrogance, I'm fucking smart.

I grant there are smarter people than me (some of them might be thinking I should have written I just now instead of me... I don't know which is correct, though I do know it's not going to matter because grammar rules are constantly evolving in new and silly ways), and I know that these smarter people are dealing with smarter people things in the same way I know there are dumber people dealing with dumber people things (like twitter).

I don't expect to understand the health care reform bill and I can't understand why so many critics do.

There's ice hissing in my whiskey

2009-08-06T02:57:00.002-05:00

I don't know why ice hisses. It's melting, so that's probably got something to do with it. I know when water freezes the space between the molecules expands, which is neat... but I don't know if that's at all relevant.

As for things I do know, I've come to enjoy the taste of whiskey. I thought I enjoyed the taste of whiskey, I'd actually spent months (or years... probably months) under the delusion I'd enjoyed the taste of whiskey, but what I drank was one part whiskey to three (or four) parts water (which I thought was clever because the drink would last longer, I'd stay hydrated, and I didn't feel ashamed to hide behind the thickening agent of high-fructose corn-syrup).

And I believed, because water has less of a taste than most anything I could tell myself I hadn't masked the taste... merely stretched it... or more accurately muted it. I'd turned whiskey into something to be gulped, glugged, and otherwise slid over my tongue on a wave of di-hydrogen-oxide (I wanted to be clever but I dropped out of the honors science course after biology, so I'm not at all sure if that's a term or mathematically valid... I dropped out of honors math January of my freshman year).

* — I interrupt my discussion on learning to enjoy whiskey because I just got finished looking up the menu for a local French restaurant online and discovered, as soon as I closed the tab, I'd been using the menu I'd remembered to grab, the last time I was at this French restaurant, as a coaster... which relates because the drink in that coaster is unsurprisingly whiskey — *

But I'm now sipping whiskey, and as I push it around my mouth (not swishing it through my teeth but I'd considered writing that because I'm running out of ways to illustrate putting liquor in my mouth), and feel a burning which I used to find revolting, nauseating — unpleasant even — a burn I now relish, or feel as though I ought to, or maybe just "don't mind all too much".

** — Also, in case you were wondering, I was checking to see if I could get a French dip at the French restaurant, because I enjoy this sandwich... so far I believe my favorite was from a restaurant somewhere in Rome... and the French restaurant apparently does not sell French dip sandwiches —**

I can't be certain, but I feel I might be tasting (or at least smelling) the things listed on the back of the bottle, like caramel and vanilla and malt and alcohol.

*** — Does anyone know where I can go for a French Dip? — ***

The ice has melted and thus my whiskey has mellowed significantly (which is nice).

Here's a Painting I Painted

2009-08-01T19:31:00.003-05:00

I feel it's in poor taste to reject people on a Saturday

2009-08-01T18:38:00.004-05:00

Arrggh.

2009-07-20T14:18:00.007-05:00

I'm sorry if you become offended by what you decide I actually meant to say

2009-07-16T09:35:00.003-05:00

I've been watching the Sotomayor conformation hearings and have decided to be outraged.

From what I can determine (and I admit it isn't easy to make sense of what's being said by a group of people who've grown increasingly fearful of being quoted taking a definitive stance on anything not vetted by the fellas down in public relations) the main objection to Sotomayor by reasonable conservative voices (ie: the ones who aren't repeatedly shouting the word racist into their AM radio microphones) is that she's made statements (not while performing her duties as a judicial figure but while addressing large, disinterested crowds), that may, if one so chooses, suggest she feels whitey ain't fit to judge... cause he's not from the streets.

This is not what she said.

Nor did David Letterman warn Sarah Palin to lock up her grandchildren because he's got... ugh... I've been up all night and I don't want to make a half-clever infant rape joke.

And I'm sure there's another example I'm not thinking of... because I've been up all night.

But I'm angry damn it.

I'm angry because people are acquiescing to the notion of being held accountable for things other people assumed they've said, whether those assumptions are simply mistaken (because our language is screwy, which is why we have words like ampersand, buttonhole, and sweetheart... thank you Bill Bryson), intentionally misinterpreted to further political goals (or for gaining attention when they're not quitting their job as governor of Alaska), or are just plain stupid (like if someone ran for governor of Alaska and quit half-way through their first term because they thought it would help them become president).

And I'm not angry with the hard of hearing, the sycophants, nor even the truly moronic. I'm angry with the victims, in fact I blame them — I'm very literally blaming the victims and I feel great doing it.

David Letterman made a joke (he does it nearly every show, often times dozens of them) which he later admitted to being in poor taste, and I'm not going to argue with the standards he sets for his comedy show, but soon thereafter he was called a pedophile enabler, accused of being a big-city-hollywood-new-york-elitist-pervert, and at least one sponsor felt so horrified they deemed it necessary to pull their funding (it was the Olive Garden... where I still have a gift certificate and as such must continue to patronize their establishment for at least one more Tour of Italy, lest I inadvertently anti-boycott the spineless bastards' shitty restaurant).

Letterman then responded to the criticism by stating unequivocally he is not now, nor has he ever been the sort of comedian who makes jokes about raping children (half-clever or otherwise).

I respected this statement. I said to myself "go get 'em Dave. Don't let some crazy frozen-salted-nut-bar of an old-lady get away with calling you a pedophile. She's pulling that shit all the time. Remember when she was saddened to hear the president make disparaging remarks about the world's most precious and unique people?"

And then, despite a very strong opening, David Letterman chose to apologize.

Normally I'm all right with apologies. I like to apologize. I like to hear apologies.

I even like when people who aren't sorry say they're sorry to make stupid annoyances go away (sort of like this but different).

In this case, as well as the Sotomayor case, we have people willfully creating offense and then demanding recompense (backed by a dimwitted or more likely bored public with nothing better to do than watch cable news and work themselves into a lather about this sort of thing) who can make whatever insipid accusations they like and in turn are treated to either what they'll condemn as a half-hearted apology or if none is offered lustfully enter into a prolonged celebrity feud to rival the infamous... umm... Binyamin Netanyahu, Mahmoud Abbas tiff.

My point is I don't like it. I don't like that public figures can be called racists and pedophiles and have those words swirled around the banners of cable-news channels where they're beaten into the audience's consciousness as if by a drum-line made up of the world's most precious and unique people, until said public figures are left feeling the only dignified response must be to apologize for expressing a complex thought, or a silly joke, or a not at all silly joke.

Here's Some Stuff I think Should be Invented

2009-07-14T04:27:00.004-05:00

- a program (or font) that capitalizes only the proper words in titles
- pornography starring women who are attractive and brilliant and have a great sense of humor and think I'm interesting
- a twenty-four hour medium-rare steak delivery service... reasonably priced
- blankets that get softer with each wash
- inexpensive water-purification machines (for the indigenous peoples)
- a sleep-ray gun
- salad that's actually made of steak but is good for you... like regular salad
- a better way to make bacon than microwaving it between layers of paper towel
- disposable fingertip guards to help when removing hot things from the toaster
- a buzzer that goes off whenever someone on talk-radio or cable news says something untrue, or ignorant, or racist, followed by a physical challenge to avoid some bizarre, humiliating punishment
- adult forts (that's right... adult)
- a button to turn off that beeping when someone says something salty on basic cable
- suicide pills that are actually placebos (I think that could be interesting)
- zombie movies that address just how terrible a zombie apocalypse must smell
- flowers that grow at a more satisfying rate for inexperienced gardeners

I'm worried if I keep posting, any number of the four people who visit this blog will miss the new cartoons two posts down

2009-07-10T01:58:00.005-05:00

I've been trying to write, or maybe I've been focusing a lot on not writing which seems an awful lot like trying to write but in theory is somehow different.

But maybe I am trying to write. I suspect this is true because I've taken to exercising (twice in as many weeks) because I heard forcing productivity is easier when one adheres to a schedule involving some sort of physical fitness regime. So in a sense I suppose I'm trying to prepare myself to write, but I still haven't done much writing.

Well I did yesterday. I wrote something better than what I had written on the page above it. I wrote about being pregnant from the point of view of someone who has never been pregnant, is incapable of becoming pregnant, and has never before considered being pregnant. It came about from my new policy of not writing what I want to write but instead writing what seems to be the immediate opposite of what I want to write (I don't say exact opposite because who the hell knows what that means?). I feel this keeps me from being cliched and stupid, as much as is possible.

That happened.

I've been thinking about Christian people, but not in my usual condescending, pitying, acerbic, hopefully insightful way. Maybe this is because instead of thinking about religion, which I generally don't anymore ( ... because who needs that hassle? ... ) I was thinking about language (I've been reading a book about language by Bill Bryson, among other things I learned it's absurd to assume we understand anything anyone has ever said, especially if it's been translated... I am honestly shocked).

But, I was thinking about language and religion, or maybe more aptly the things religious people say that I used to assume I understood because I'd like to think I'm competent at being literate and generally speaking the language.

I realized I have no idea what the word "sin" means. I used to think I did. In fact, I had a pretty good idea I knew what sin meant.

A sin is a thing that pisses off God (or makes him cry... it's screwy as I understand it). As a result of this, in religious circles a committing sin is a bad thing to do (depending on the circle the response to being caught sinning can be anything from polite yet infuriatingly patronizing understanding to being hit in the face... and body... with rocks... lots of goddamn rocks... or being set on fire... or having large red hot things put in your butt, or mouth, or vagina, or new holes they'll make with the red hot things).

So my understanding of sin is that the religious folks believe they should be avoided... like high-fructose corn-syrup, but not because it makes you a fattie but because it goes against the wishes of the sole being capable of knowing with absolute certainty what is good and what is bad.

It would stand to reason it's fair to say "committing a sin is to do something bad." Or maybe "to commit a sin is to do something wrong." These seem to make sense (not to be read I agree with the assertion that sin is synonymous with wrong, just that this is supposed to represent their version of wrong).

So, sin is bad. I get that.

But, there are a lot of christians who would suggest everyone is a sinner and as such we're all equally bad because all sins are equally bad (so murder and masturbating are on the same level... probably rape too, though it seems God never really comes out and says this, very occasionally he demands the opposite... but there I go again).

But if we're all sinners and everyone's a sinner and as such we ain't supposed to be casting no stones, I wonder what exactly it means to sin.

Maybe it's like calling god a sissy. If I call god a sissy then god and me have what I believe they call a beef. Traditionally god and I would either step outside where I'd immediately run away or we'd just go about our lives silently bitter with each other and as a result, we'd both just pretend the other doesn't exist (or not pretend... as it were).

But, if I call god a sissy, no matter how well god decides to take that, his friends are going to assume he's crying (like some sort of sissy) and in response, determine it is somehow their responsibility to tell me off (or treat me with callous indifference, or beat the hell out of me... who knows?).

I feel pretty great about this analogy. It establishes sin as something which is disrespectful to a certain group's sensibilities but does not, as an act, in and of itself, harm anyone (which runs contrary to what I've heard from crazy people, but I do not make it a practice to trust the opinions of crazy people).

So, maybe sinning is like drinking. A lot of uptight people in AA will tell us we should not drink. If they see us drinking they'll glance at us coldly over their iced-teas and talk about how we're dangerous and ruining the world with our terrible weaknesses. And they'll get together in a group and tell each other we're bad because we drink (I don't know any teetotalers, so I assume if you're reading this you're an us), they'll use the word bad, they'll claim to be moral stalwarts, they'll make the issue moral and they'll tell themselves they know better than the rest of us.

And I get this.

I worry it sounds more patronizing than it's meant to, because this is what groups do. They claim what they value is more important than what they don't value ("I'm a football fan, so to me, football is more important than jazz fusion, and my local football squad is more better than the football squad in the next state... those guys suck").

And this is news to me.

If sin is bad, but not for the world, bad for god (or bad for their group morale maybe...), then I think I kind of get it. I understand why someone can believe in god, who is compassionate, and can say "it's a sin to have premarital sex but that's all right because we're all sinners" and feel what they're saying isn't just not-offensive but is somehow a show of humility.

It's not, it's arrogant and insulting but I can see how they could believe otherwise.

Maybe this is a step in a direction.

There are wild dogs howling outside my window

2009-07-10T01:34:00.002-05:00

It's weird and I don't like it. Barking, howling, yapping, and all those strange noises dogs make (except that peculiar snorting sound terriers and hounds seem to snort when air gets trapped in their sinuses? nasal passages? head? I'm going with head).

And they've stopped.

Damn It

2009-07-09T17:09:00.010-05:00

The Abortion Debate

2009-06-19T15:32:00.002-05:00

I don't get it.

(more on this later... maybe)

But It's Not Yet Noon?

2009-06-19T10:42:00.002-05:00

I woke up early today, or more precisely, I was woken — awoken — by the callous indifference of my sister's boyfriend's mother (note: I use the phrase callous indifference to describe the act of making a phone call before noon) by way of a phone call I happened to receive due an unfortunate similarity between my sister's phone number and my own (which are nearly identical save for the last digit — if keypads would have been arranged in a single line (like I'd suggested) rather than a three-by-four grid this whole mess could have been avoided... assuming the error occurred as a result of her thumb pressing the wrong key rather than her brain reading the wrong number on a hastily scratched note — and that the number on the note was correct in the first place and not... fuck it, someone woke me up and I'm bothered — another note: when I'm bothered I seem to consider my situation and ruminate on the events that could have lead to my being bothered — I also tend to assume the people involved are working under the best of intentions... it makes me feel like less of a cliche to consider the absurdity and unintended consequences of human interaction rather than whine about how terrible the world is because of "all the self-absorbed jackasses").

Hmmm...

2009-06-17T16:00:00.002-05:00

My sister is getting her car's windshield replaced (grammar question, does the windshield belong to the car?) because it has a considerable crack, which is apparently "unsafe" because it might cause "death" or some such bullshit.

So there's a guy in my garage taking apart her car, which doesn't bother me at all, mostly because I hadn't noticed until I opened the garage door (door to the garage, not the big mechanical door) and noticed him and his big giant repairman van — parked directly behind my car... causing me to wonder... why would someone park behind the car they aren't going to be working on, thus immobilizing both automobiles?

I admit, it seems likely he'd have pulled up to the garage before knowing which car he'd be dealing with (possibly before the door had been opened at all) and he'd been considerate enough to pull in along one side of the driveway rather than directly in the middle (as jackasses are wont to do) but I'm bothered (because I'm impatient and want to buy ink for my printer so I can put some cartoons in the mail — even though the mail won't be picked up until tomorrow anyway — so those cartoons can be rejected and sent back to me so I can get depressed again).

The New Yorker has changed their rejection notice

2009-06-12T23:46:00.008-05:00

It's printed on card-stock now. The old notes seemed classier, if I may say so.

It's all so goddamned stupid

2009-06-11T02:43:00.003-05:00

"Screw political correctness" ...indeed.

So fucking stupid.

Thought I had in the Shower (that wasn't about my penis)

2009-06-03T18:08:00.003-05:00

I was showering today (as I do every day... ladies) and it occurred to me religion is a lot like a fifteen year old boy in a tight black and green striped sweater with hair combed over half his face and a penchant for saying things like "life is like dark and miserable and happiness is a bullshit lie."

Though I'd played with the idea of calling religious people members of a death cult (aside from being either redundant or worse, inaccurate — I'm pretty sure cult means, removed from it's pejorative connotations, a group smaller than "religion" but larger than a "couple of guys") this seemed to imbue the religious with an authority usually reserved for people in bands whose name can be found airbrushed on the side of someone's older cousin's bitchin'-assed-van; whiny self-important victims of cruel fate seems a better fit.

It may have been the abortion debate (unrelated note: why is it I use the nonsense term "abortion debate" to describe what I suspect is much more likely the "abortion tantrum"?) which has returned for another fifteen minutes due to recent the terrorist attack in a Kansas church, the assassination of Dr. George Tiller (another unrelated note: why is this paragraph starting to sound so newsy?).

So, I'm in the shower, thinking about how vile some people are (on better researched blogs there are collections of tweets from Jesus fans who feel the need to infect the internet with their petty sadism — remember when the internet was just porn?) and how in this — ugh — debate... the Christian sympathies are generally with the unborn, which lead me to suspect (or continue to suspect with new evidence) that Christians hate people who are alive.

This hatred also seems shared by every other religion of which I've ever heard (and likely those I haven't) and I guess more so than "a slightly larger group of guys" could be used to define exactly what separates a religion from "people who frequent internet message-boards to posts stories about what it would be like if cats could speak".

Aside from the general hate speech delivered en masse... in mass... on a weekly basis (you're all bad because two people who we admit didn't really exist but serve as a symbol for something we never really bother to explain once ate a fruit that we call an apple, but was likely originally a pomegranate — you're all bad because everything here is bad and probably not real — or even — you're all trying really hard, but if you'd just try a little harder maybe you'll get to a place that fucking rules... cause in comparrison this place sucks...), it seems to me the Christian stance is that once we pass through someone's vagina (or are surgically removed from someone's uterus by way of an advanced procedure, like me, which is why I played McDuff in my Shakespearean debute over two years ago) we begin to amass sin like a rolling stone... covered in glue... on a long slope covered in little bits of moss that are easilly gathered by said glue covered stone.

Experience, to the devout, it seems is simply the accumulation of sin and likely why the religious seem to view children as precious, innocent, little miracles while the rest of us see them as violent sociopathic little beasts who'll believe anything their told... which is actually probably why the religious actually like them so much... that and the other thing... the rape thing.

But the point remains, as we grow we learn to discern between truth and fiction, evidence and assertion, good touch and bad touch, and at the point religion loses its luster so, to them, do we.

So, it could be that being alive we have nothing but chances to sin and collect spiritual demerits, but when we're dead (or not yet alive) we're better, we're pure, and we're completely incapable of changing anything.

In Buddhism I believe (poorly translated) it's referred to as "no-thought", a state of mind in which we simply exist, in Christianity it's called absolute devotion (I forget who the figure is, but I remember reading some reverred Christian mind proclaim (poorly paraphrased) "my devotion is so great, if the church were to tell me that white wall is blue I'd become unable to see a white wall"), and I'm holding up four fingers (or showing you four lights depending on your favorite Star Trek captain) and demanding you see five.

And I suppose that's what I realized in the shower today, the ideal religious practicioner is either a fetus, a dead person, or someone who (through sheer lack of will) has crafted their mind to reflect the shared mindset of the earlier examples.

I've Got a Headache

2009-06-03T03:14:00.003-05:00

I've been trying to write again.

It is hard.

Probably has something to do with the months of not-writing anything but notes on stories I haven't gotten around to writing... and also notes on stories I have written that are terrible (as an example: the last story I tried to write at, some point in the editing process, managed to purge itself of conflict because somehow I felt (wrongly) that this was somehow more interesting)).

So I've started writing again and I noticed something weird about writing sentences, in that what I write establishes something (sort of like how when I put paint on a wall I'm "painting something") which seems obvious now, but today struck me as eerie and powerful.

I think it's just the result of still thinking in an editorial mindset (or with an editor's mind... I'm not sure if that's what "editorial mindset" means... I feel it should mean thinking about something critically, and while that sounds like what I'm trying to say I feel it's misleading). I've heard (as I'm sure has anyone reading this) "when we begin writing we ought to do so without judging our work" and fortunately I've spent a good amount of time not giving all that much consideration to what I'm writing.

But today I wrote a few sentences and (I want to say instinctively but it's more likely a conditioned response) I noticed I was giving some character a lot of strange quirks which reflected, in no way, the months worth of notes I'd amassed. I wrote something about this character's sweater and then (as if only for the sake of pacing) expounded on this by adding a bit about how this character owns six sweaters (all of which are very similar) and wears them on a very rigid, though unintentional schedule... not only this, but I wrote that this character had explained this to another person, suggesting he is not only particular in his vestments but aware of his idiosyncrasies.

I'd had no intention of making this character very rigid, very aware of himself, nor very besweatered, but with half a sentence, typed for no other reason than to adhere to a certain pace I like to type to, I had.

Seemed interesting.

Maybe I'll go to sleep and try again tomorrow.

Well Fuck

2009-06-01T18:16:00.003-05:00

I'm angry.

New Cartoon what to watch

2009-03-22T06:24:00.001-05:00

I just don't know much about revolutions

2009-03-16T02:47:00.002-05:00

I don't think about the things I used to think about.

Except food.

And breasts.

And wine.

On the upside, it seems my inner monologue is plagued with frustrated bursts of obscenity (and given that I am me, instead of just writing obscenity, I'll give some examples... fuck, shit-bastard, cock-balloon, and occasionally just a sort of grunted arrgh). I call this the upside, not just because I like words of which my mother doesn't approve, but because rather than follow my usual train of thought from boobs to "it's been too long since I've made acquaintance with boobs" to "my life is pointless and stupid" and then to "everything is pointless and stupid", my thoughts now go from "hey, aren't boobs great?" to nowhere, because for some reason my brain has bypassed all the steps from initial thought to exasperated nihilistic shouting... and then it's later and I'm tired.

Wish I had a hammock.

Thoughts on The Oscars

2009-02-25T04:14:00.002-06:00

I've been thinking about movies and the awards that come with making movies, and I think it's interesting, whether you're a movie snob or just have awful taste, you're going to be dissatisfied with the Oscars.

I think this is weird.

I don't want to suggest there's a spectrum for this sort of thing, where you start with four year-olds who are just getting used to the idea of focusing on a giant screen and end with some brilliant movie savant, there seems to be a section, somewhere in the middle, where the Oscars completely represent their views.

There's not a shortage of interesting articles written about why Slumdog Millionaire didn't deserve to win best picture (from critiques of the film's failure to address social issues, the uninspired nature of the film, the insulting insinuations of all things, including the blinding of orphans for profit, being fated so this character can thrive, to the crazy chanting that Dark Knight should have won everything ever), and I tend to agree... I wasn't thrilled.

But, as I was writing earlier, there seems a gap, sort of like how if you drop a cat from above a certain height it'll have time to go limp and thus survive the fall, and from below a certain height it'll hit the ground and walk away with minimal damage, but between those heights there is supposedly a few feet in which the cat is too high to survive the impact but does not have enough time to go limp and thus survive thanks to whatever magic allows limp cats to survive devastating falls... I also feel compelled to note there is likely a height from which, limp or otherwise, the cat will explode on the cement.

The dead cat gap in movie taste, as I'm sure it will be referred to from now on, exists between the adolescent hoards who demand more and more of those "Parody of some genre" Movie movies (that have suceded in the impossible task of making the film 300 seem almost decent in comparison to its satire Meet the Spartans), and the more than casual viewer of foreign and independent cinema who feel, in the tradition of Camus, that art is meant not to escape reality but to investigate our existence.

The Oscars has become (and I say has become assuming it was ever anything else, but I have no reason to believe that is the case) an award for the small gap that can appreciate movies that don't depend on farting to further the plot yet can't quite stand an ambiguous or novel ending.

In this sense the Oscars are what America seems to want to be, a diluted combination of the best of us and those of us who have nothing much to contribute, meeting somewhere not exactly in the middle, with lofty, though ultimately hollow ambitions resulting in watered down self-important decisions being made in the spirit of compromise and tolerance.

I can't imagine I'd have it any other way though, as the elitist's claims that they know what makes a good movie would of course be rendered moot by the fact that most of America would tune out, not particularly interested in what a bunch of weirdos think about movies where nothing happens, and the vast majority (who reside in the lower cat-will-land-and-be-injured-but-not-killed portion) already determine which movies to honor by way of spending billions of dollars on utter crap, ensuring the very same crap will be made over and over as things explode and hot chicks take off their tops... unless they're famous, because nudity is apparently something you only do if you're desperate or artistic.

Damn Magazines and Their Impossible Standards

2009-02-14T16:03:00.006-06:00

Thoughts On Role Models

2009-02-10T22:03:00.003-06:00

I don't know Michael Phelps. Apparently he swims.

I don't swim (I imagine this is because I was a fat kid and never wanted to take my shirt off) but I admire those who do. If only this Phelps guy was around when I was a young boy, I might have discovered that exercise is cool, that swimming is a great way to improve muscle tone and cardiovascular health, and that being endorsed by Subway restaurants and Kellog's cereal is a necessary part of living a meaningful life and growing to be a strong, charismatic young man who swims... a lot.

But I'm sure that little boy, who could have gone on to do great things (like swim... a lot), would have been devastated, outraged, and confused by this betrayal (not just betrayal... betrayer is too good a word, reserved only for those who make catty comments about the way other sixteen year-old girls are dressed or are instrumental in handing over the son of God to the Romans). My chances of growing up to swim (... a lot), would have come to an abrupt halt when I learned the most celebrated Olympian since... uh... ... that Michael Phelps (after a photograph of him smoking marijuana had been published in England and crossed the Atlantic faster than... let's say Michael Phelps) admitted to smoking marijuana in the off season in the privacy of some guy's dormroom.

What happens now? I'll tell you what happens, the fictitious little boy (who lived in an alternative past where Michael Phelps would have been his hero but then isn't because everyone started talking about how this swimmer was no longer a role model), who could have been inspired by Michael Phelps winning more necklaces than anyone else, gets to grow up to be some complete waste of a person who does not in fact swim (... a lot).

How could you, Michael?

How could you do something so harmful?

Michael Phelps doesn't care about our children.

Or so I thought.

But here's a shocking statistic. In the year two-thousand-five 3,582 unintentional drownings occurred in this nation's many swimming pools (I have no idea how many souls were claimed by rivers, lakes, and hot tubs) according to a website I found with a picture on its homepage of an attractive interracial couple kayaking.

I spent some time searching for people who died, in that (or any) year, by falling into a giant pile of marijuana (as well as less the less likely scenario in which someone would be unfortunate enough to be near some amount of marijuana that has caught fire and happened to inhale the fumes) and found a staggering no deaths (definitely two, but maybe as much as five, less than the peanut-butter Kellog's had pulled from the market due to a salmonella outbreak sometime before deciding to no longer sponsor the young swimmer).

Let's consider (if only for a second, this sick, twisted, selfish-bastard) Phelps (with his damned celebrity, elitist, "I'm the best swimmer in the world," devil-may-care attitude who thinks it's all right to put things in his own body that are sort of illegal) has caused even one child to throw in the towel (in this case into the pool and subsequently decide not to wade after it but rather allow it to float around for a bit before clogging the filter) and lose hope of one day being freakishly proportioned and unpopular enough to have fifteen hours in a given day with which to spend in the water, instead goes to a party where he's passed a joint, inhales, coughs for a bit, gets to second base with some girl who'd always thought he was kinda funny, and wakes up in the morning feeling like a real champion.

Let's consider the possibility that this child is one of the several thousand who would have died needlessly, at the bottom of a pool, in the safety of their own backyard while their parents whispered petty things about the neighbors' kids, who they're certain are all getting high and throwing Sunday-morning-orgy-brunches.

I'm not suggesting Michael Phelps smoking pot has saved any lives, but I can't bring myself to ignore the numbers.

I got bored

2009-01-27T10:13:00.000-06:00

Fuck. Who's balls do I have to tickle to get published in this town?

2009-01-22T03:15:00.007-06:00

More Rejection, More Cartoons, Less Will to Live

2009-01-17T01:45:00.004-06:00

Cartoon Again

2009-01-14T01:21:00.008-06:00

I thought this was funny

2009-01-03T22:19:00.001-06:00

Also More

2008-12-21T00:04:00.004-06:00

And More...

2008-12-15T19:05:00.004-06:00

I've been watching a lot of Youtube videos of debates and speeches given by Christopher Hitchens and Richard Dawkins. I'm enjoying that.

New Cartoon... Watch it

2008-12-12T02:44:00.001-06:00

Edit: I notice I have been grouped, by means of Youtube's "Related Videos," with Richard Dawkins, George Carlin, and Albert Einstein. While I grasp that this is most likely based solely on my choice of title, I would like to note... this is pretty cool.

Bored and not sleeping

2008-12-05T00:41:00.002-06:00

Stuff

2008-12-04T19:45:00.002-06:00

Cartoon

2008-12-03T23:17:00.002-06:00

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Gj82srgEiHI

Rejected... again

2008-11-28T22:54:00.002-06:00

Gay Marriage

2008-11-14T23:43:00.004-06:00

I'm watching CNN. I've started watching CNN because now that the election's over MSNBC seems less likely to break interesting news than maybe serve as a counter to Fox News. To be fair, I enjoy watching Keith Olberman, he seems to hate the things I hate and enjoy things I enjoy, but recently, and maybe this is because nothing all too important is going to happen, it's all just pointing out how stupid Fox News is. I feel this is noble. But for news, I think I'm looking to CNN... when BBC isn't on.

On CNN I'm watching someone who isn't Larry King pretending to be Larry King, directing a panel consisting of a syndicated writer, the mayor of a major metropolitan city, and two people who have an invisible friend.

Here's something I notice: Gay people seem to think gay marriage is a civil rights issue. Some straight people seem to think gay marriage is a civil rights issue. Religious people do not. And I think that's interesting.

I figure it's because telling someone they can't have their civil rights is difficult to stomach, or in a probably more apt sense, difficult to defend. As such, the argument isn't an argument so much as two sides (which is a simplified way of saying the general pro's and not pro's) raising random points that are supposed to elicit either an emotional reaction or a rational response but don't particularly correspond to the points being made by the other.

It's a trend, that I'm sure isn't a trend but more a general reality, that bothers me. There's no discourse. In politics it's just phrases designed to garner suport and mislead the masses. I've accepted this. There's a value to it... sort of. But on the TV, it just seems stupid... really fucking stupid.

One side says, "gay marriage is a civil rights issue." The other side, knowing no one would support them if they agreed, says, "the real issue is whether we define a word correctly." Immediately this is no longer an argument over gay marriage, the argument has become some sort of meta-argument best symbolized by someone shouting, "what the hell are we arguing about?" and another guy pissing himself whilst mumbling something anti-semitic.

In an effort to further the discussion the first side says, "there's nothing wrong with gay marriage," to which the other side, having no evidence, says something almost scientific, and by that I mean something they want to sound scientific but generally comes off as "MY BRAIN HURTS!", replies, "in the history of the world every society that has accepted gay unions has fallen!" which is like saying that in the history of the world every society that has accepted drinking water has fallen (or will... France). Essentially the claim is supposed to be that gay marriage will lead to the destruction of any society, which would seem to say something about the faith religious people put in the strength of our society... what because somehow dudes fucking will ruin it, which is to say, to the religious, our society is about as stable as an IKEA coffee table built by gay dudes who want to have sex so bad on the coffee table that they forgot to put those little wooden pegs into the boards.

Anyway, the "debate" (it's in quotes because I don't think the word debate adequately describes what's going on... more like pissing contest but instead of people pissing in any direction they just wet themselves for a while until someone shouts "I win") continues and someone says "For the love of Christ! This is a civil right's issue! Damnit people!" To which the other side will say "You're a racist! Gays are taking civil rights from the blacks!" At which point the moderator ought to apologize for having passed over thousands of rational human beings that would have been better able to explain why they felt voting against civil rights was a good idea (because they're douches) in favor of the depraved incessant rambling of a spiritual leader, a title I compare unfavorably with people who masturbate in front of playgrounds and Rush Limbaugh.

Here's a thought: suggesting that people ought to vote a particular way or else our society will crumble, is literally using fear to influence the political direction of our nation. From what I understand using threats and fear to influence politics is the rough definition of terrorism.

It strikes me that a group of people so focused on how words are defined should be concerned about that (I'm referring to the religious... because they suck).

More Cartoons

2008-11-09T03:15:00.004-06:00

These were returned to me after three months at the New Yorker. I'm not sure what to make of that as their usual turn around is within two weeks.

Anyway, as they're worth absolutely nothing, I'm posting them on the internet.

I Wrote all Day

2008-11-07T03:38:00.002-06:00

I spent an entire day writing.

As a result I have fifty pages of passable work where once (and by once I mean yesterday) I had a random collection of vague statements and a relatively cluttered and unnecessary list of dialogue.

I also got some stretching in. As of today I can almost touch my knees to the floor behind my ears lying with my head to the ground.

Living the dream...

...just living the dream.

I wonder, given the amount of MSNBC and CNN I didn't watch today and the subsequent increase in my overall productivity if this whole Barrack Obama thing was worth it.

The little news I did catch (the Daily Show) left me feeling pretty good about the world. There's something about the past few days in the way Jon Stewart doesn't look like he kind of wants to give up anymore. I don't even care if the jokes start falling flat (which I feel is entirely unfounded and really only a concern) watching Jon Stewart regain his childish glee is reward enough.

I'd like to add that while I've heard a few interesting rumors about a certain Alaska governor who apparently can't remember the name of the country the state she is governor of boarders, I am in no way bothered by this. It's the damnedest thing. Call it sadism or a prolonged euphoric high from the opiate that was Tuesday night, but Palin being stupid has become somehow not terrifying... I'd even say damnably endearing.

On a lighter note, I'd like to add, what the fuck? in reference to California and the whole pissing on what ought to have been (and I'm sure still will be) a monumental day for civil rights. From what I've seen (cable news was on while I ate a sandwich) black people whose turn-out apparently made an Obama presidency a reality, seem to be about as against gay rights as the reddest members of any given solid red state (ie: Pennsylvania, Virginia, or Indiana... heh... suck it conservatives), which isn't to suggest white people are blameless in this (I noticed the honkies were split almost evenly on the issue).

But, I don't know. What would politics be without a big ironic "fuck you" to people who've been given after years of being spoken to by politicians as if we were a nation populated entirely by functionally retarded four year-olds, a small amount of respect subsequently a reason to chance some hesitant reserved form of optimism?

To be fair, I don't recall a certain president elect Barrack Obama supporting in any way the notion of equal marriage rights for gays (and I'm still hoping it was all just a shameful ploy to get elected), meaning it's probably not neatly ironic like rain on one's no-rain-day, but damnit if it doesn't just scream America.

Hey, I Did Something

2008-10-27T18:40:00.002-05:00

Yesterday I voted. It was crazy. I woke up before noon and stood outside (in Texas so it was pretty fucking hot in the sun) for almost an hour, spent the next hour winding through a series of hallways and folding chairs set up like a crappy version of some amusement park waiting area, and then, in that way that I do, voted for Obama.

So that was cool.

Since then I haven't done much.

I bought paint.

I drank some coffee.

I played with Photoshop.

This is my life now.

Drew Thirty Cartoons Last Night

2008-10-17T09:59:00.003-05:00

My fingers are curled and throbbing.

These are old but no one wanted to buy them, so now they're on the internet.

I'm Sure You've Seen It

2008-10-13T23:50:00.002-05:00

I'm watching Larry King Live (not actually live, as it's almost midnight and from my understanding Larry King is currently vacuum sealed in nefarious lair beneath the CNN broadcast tower) and Dean Kane, who for a while used to be Superman and as such I feel I need to listen to what he says, is telling me it's imperative that we focus on national security and decreasing the size of government. I've heard some rumors in the past that Superman would in fact be a republican, being from Kansas and having been raised on a farm (also some stuff about him serving as a Christ figure... which is stupid when you consider both his creators were heavily Jewish) but I find it unsettling to imagine Superman cowering in fear of a terrorist attack while someone else runs challenging us all to have a little hope. Frankly, I think Superman would be a liberal, but that might just be me remembering that he's the second best reporter for what is essentially a fictitious version of The New York Times (plus he's always flying onto the scene of some accident and catching people rather than demanding they pull themselves up by their bootstraps and overcome gravity by their own means).

I think if I were Superman I'd demand the government set free all drug offenders. This might be an intense overreaching of my Superherodom, but the implied threat of being able to fly around the nation at super speed and just release all the potheads myself might be enough motivation to get things moving in some interesting direction. I'd also use my x-ray vision to see what's inside my refigerator, so as to save energy, because every little bit helps and if I were Superman I'd have to take on a little more responsibility, I get that.

But, what I'm enjoying is, again, the farce that is the Republican ticket.

The possible (though increasingly unlikely) next vice president, Sarah Palin, has recently been caught reprimanding her own supporters, confusing them with protesters as they shout for her to speak louder (I assume they wanted to hear what everyone would be laughing about this week as it happened). Her response to these protesters, as is the general response to those crazy leftists with their bitching about whales and genocide (no, not tear gas and rubber truncheons), was to remind them they had ought to thank a soldier for their right to protest.

I recognize that this is the perfect conservative (seemingly pro-military but actually pro-obedience) response to dissent and fittingly it makes absolutely no sense. I assume anyone capable of reading probably has this worked out on their own, but ultimately what she's saying is 'shut up and I unlike you douchebags support the troops' and in doing so, following her statement's inherent logic is actually saying, 'thank the troops for the rights they gave you while I strip them from you and negate their sacrifice.' I enjoy this. I suppose I'd enjoy it more so if the nation, or even a significant portion of the military itself would recognize how unintentionally moronic, though quite intentionally smug and almost-clever this soundbite actually is.

Iowa came up on MSNBC today. This is interesting. Also, I've been watching MSNBC. I like it. Iowa, as I know it, is a wonderful place full of incredibly nice people who have never given me reason to fear for the human race. Today, I may have to ammend that statemtent. Much like Samson, or maybe the Philistines because I don't suppose I can refer to a conservative Iowan pastor as a powerful force for goodness in this world (or a sociopathic murder machine... maybe) this man is publically praying for his god to let McCain win, because, and this is the part I like, if Obama wins, all of the muslims and hindus and buddhists who want him elected will think their gods are bigger than the christian Iowan god and probably, because I assume godly rank is based on popular opinion, Jesus, if Obama wins, will be demoted from god to assistant to the unknowable force of life and knowledge that the buddhists generally seem to dig on (when they're not being arrogant pricks).

I'd like to point out that I've intentionally capitalized Superman's name.

I also want to point out that this pastor is upset because god might have people think other gods are "bigger than" him. He actually said bigger. Just wanted to make sure it was clear that this is a quote and not me being sarcastic and belittling.

Here's something the television just told me. Apparently the term "McCarthyism" was coined by a political cartoonist who is now dead. I'd like to say, and I know it's tacky to keep mentioning things that happened in college and even more tacky to use people's names, but uh... "Suck it Lou Stark!" I think he was the guy who kept trying to get me kicked off the newspaper.

I was thinking about that today. I've been considering journalism. Most likely I'm just in love with the romance of news standing for something, I would like truth to make some difference in the world, I've been reading Bob Woodward's new book about the Bush Administration (buy it), and for some reason I irrationally believe if I get a job at or near a newspaper I'll meet Lois Lane and convince her that I really like freedom of the press too and we should probably hang out.

In making that joke about Lois Lane I think I may have tipped my hand somewhat unintentionally. As much as I feel the public deserves the news they can trust, as much as I'd like to believe truth means something, and that I'd be satisfied 'making a differnce' by working as a press type journalist, I think I might care less about the public being served than I do about our ability to speak what is true because it is true. I think I ought to develop some condensed version of 'I despise censorship' as I write it so often, and my hatred of being limited by small minded people is strong, but I notice I'm not satisfied writing a story that isn't read, or that doesn't accomplish something in being read. I don't know if great journalists feel telling the story is its own reward, but I think they probably have to. I can't imagine writing article after article as the world ignores the news, or lets it be drowned out by sensationalized nonstories and the general propaganda that is most everything we hear on a daily basis (in this I include religion, commercials, fast food menus, and of course cable, network, and printed news).

Also, just as a general thought I've had that hasn't gone anywhere, I'm thinking there might be a bright side to our nation becoming less powerful in the global sense. It strikes me, it's entirely possible in our life-time the nation might respect some higher authority than "whatever the president says" and maybe, just maybe, it won't matter that the president has signed legislation pardoning him from future charges of war crimes. It's a thought I had.

Nietzsche Might be Disappointed

2008-10-12T23:32:00.002-05:00

I'm watching Hollywoodland. It's making me think about regrets and I've decided I have one.

When I was in high school I took a course at the art institute and there was this blonde girl who told me she was really into Superman. At the time, being an angry teenager, I didn't much care for the man of steel. She asked me out to lunch after class one day and I remember having some reason to turn her down, but it strikes me, looking back, that I don't know many women who love Superman.

She might have been interesting.

I like Superman a lot more now that I'm an adult.

I wonder if that's just me.

I Was Told Mac's Didn't Fuck Up

2008-10-12T19:49:00.002-05:00

I like my computer. I do. I don't know much about computers, save for the things one picks up when one has grown up in the age of internet. But what I do know is that I now have a mac. I was told that macs were better than PCs because macs don't get viruses.

I suppose that's true, but here's something I notice: My mac is pissing me off. On occasion, and to be honest it's a rare occasion that hasn't until today really affected me, the keyboard will just decide to stop working. The computer keeps plugging away and I can watch the writing I've been working on sitting on my screen not being saved. The thing isn't frozen, it's just not responsive to outside stimuli. It's like how Christians believe comas work.

So I get to watch my computer wait for me to tell it what to do as I manage to avoid hurling it across the room in disgust. To be honest that urge is never really related to my computer's performance... I just think it'd be fun to break something really expensive.

In the past I've been able to close the laptop and then open it again at which point I'd be rewarded with a brief amount of control, enough to save what I'd been working on. But today I couldn't manage that and for the first time in quite some time discovered I'd lost some work. It's annoying.

This bothers me.

Thoughts on The Presidential Debate

2008-10-07T21:38:00.003-05:00

What was with McCain wandering around like an Alzheimer's patient?

Obama's answering questions and McCain's just moving about in the background looking lost and confused.

My Opinion of the Vice Presidential Debate

2008-10-02T20:32:00.004-05:00

Joe Biden: I'm educated and I live in Scranton, that's where the Office is set, you guys like the Office right? Vote for me because I'm competent and not a moron and Barrack Obama likes me so you know? Why not?

Sarah Palin: I don't want to answer your questions or argue points that make me look like a crazy fundamentalist Christian... so vote for me because I can't pronounce words correctly.

How about the Gays?

Joe Biden: Gay couples, straight couples... it's all good.

Sarah Palin: I tolerate people who choose to be gay.

Gay Marriage:

War?

Sarah Palin: Obama hates the troops! If we keep fighting we're going to win this and then we can all go to the malt shop and then have a party and everyone will get unwed teenage pregnant!

Joe Biden: We're uh... we're going to end the war.

Sarah Palin: You're a pussy. Surge! Surge! I like it when you disagree and belittle Obama. Our kids are at war and his are doing what? Going to middle school... fucking commies.

Joe Biden: McCain votes against our troops best interests, and he's been completely wrong and uninformed about every aspect of this war. Facts!

Nuclear War? Pakistan? Iran?

Joe Biden: Pakistan's got nuclear weapons. Iran would be dangerous if they had them, but you know who doesn't? Iraq where McCain loves to exploit. We need to build schools in Afghanistan.

Sarah Palin: US generals and Al Queda say Iraq is important, what, you don't trust Al Queda. Iran hates Isreal. Akmadinigad is probably not sane. He can't have nukular weapons. Obama wants to date him probably. He's going to get us all killed with is nukular weapons and wipe our ally off the face of the Earth! Fuck!

Kissinger (asshole war criminal bastard)?

Sarah Palin: I love him. We can't fix the world by talking to people. Freedom comes from being serious and making threats.

Joe Biden: Five secretaries of state and all our allies have been begging us to speak to the nations instead of just bombing them. McCain wants to sanction Spain. Fucking Spain!

Isreal?

Sarah Palin: Let's cut it in half. Worked for South Korea. We need to stop the nazis from creating a Holocaust II. We love Isreal. There's nothing more important than Isreal.

Joe Biden: You love Israel? Fuck you. I love Isreal. We're cool me and Israel. McCain let Hammas and Hezbollah take power in Isreal and Lebanon. Iran is thriving because threats don't work.

So... Isreal?

Sarah Palin: You two can't stop blaming people and getting past partisanship. The Democrats are too partisan. Change is comin'.

Joe Biden: Past is prologue... bitch.

Nuclear Weapons... again...?

Sarah Palin: Nukular weapons are scary. I'd like to add that Afghanistan is also scary and we need to surge in Afghanistan... we need to keep surging! We're not killing civilians like Obama says because he wants to demoralize the troops. We're handing out freedom like popsicles at fat camp.

Joe Biden: The general said the surge wouldn't work... and he's like in charge. And nuclear weapons... Obama fucking hates nuclear weapons. He tried to make laws about that and McCain opposed them.

Sarah Palin: The general didn't say shit. You're stupid.

Joe Biden: Did so. He so did. McCain said Mission Accomplished in Afghanistan... he's stupid.

Intervention in Darfur?

Joe Biden: I wanted to stop Bosnia... and I saved tens of thousands of lives... we ended thousands of years of war. I hate genocide! We need to send helicopters to Darfur!

Sarah Palin: You're a flip-flopper! People want straight talk, I'll say continuing to avoid referencing Darfur in any sense... oh right... umm... yeah, we need to have options... I've helped by living in Alaska. We called for divestment from Sudan... it hasn't happened yet... but we're thinking that'd be neat.

Joe Biden: We need to draw a line! No genocide! No harboring of terrorists! John McCain is a prick. I never liked him. He's stupid and didn't listen to me when I prophesized the future.

Sarah Palin: I disagree! You're a liar. I can't prove it but you're a liar. John McCain is fighting Evil... like Star Wars. John McCain is like Star Wars.

So, if your running mates happen to die?

Joe Biden: I'd do what Barrack wanted to do. I'd save the world.

Sarah Palin: We're mavericks! I'd bring Alaska to Washington. Hockey moms, teenage brides high on meth, and women who have to pay for their own rape kits. Taxes hurt the economy.

Joe Biden: I like to hang out at Home Depot. People at Home Depot think McCain's a prick. Fuck Alaska, Scranton's where it's at.

Sarah Palin: Joe, you ignorant slut. Your wife is great and "her reward is in heaven" (I think this might have been a threat). We need to increase no child left behind. We need to teach our children about history, the young Earth theory, how to ignore evolution, and fighting witches.

What?

Sarah Palin: I also think the VP should have more authority. We need to hug special needs kids more.

Joe Biden: John McCain hates education. As vice president I'd probably be Barrack's go to guy. We'd be buds.

Does the VP belong to any branch solely?

Sarah Palin: Our founding fathers didn't think we'd be stupid enough to not get this, so yeah, I'm gonna be like Cheney and exploit ambiguity for personal gain.

Joe Biden: Cheney is a cock! The constitution defines the vice president as part of the executive branch... it helps if you read it. He has no authority over congress. Fucking cock!

Your Experience?

Sarah Palin: I've had a lot of jobs, like George Bush. But what I bring is my spunky hockey mom, special needs child having, only having a million dollars, America loving down home Reagan loving fighter for America! Plus we're a team! Team USA!

Joe Biden: I think I care too much. I put cops on the streets. I help women. I stop genocide. I've been through some shit. I'm fucking blessed. I own one house. I'm tearing up. People need help.

Sarah Palin: John McCain is criticized by everyone who meets him. And I get shit done. McCain's got friends... like Guiliani (I yelled at him) and Romney... and some other despicable pricks like Lieberman. Republicans and Democrats are equally stupid... John McCain is super.

Joe Biden: All right, fuck it. McCain's a tool. He hasn't done shit and hasn't been a maverick on any issue. He voted against people being able to heat their homes in the winter. Fuck that guy.

Ever Flip-Flop?

Joe Biden: Oh yeah. I used to think judges just had to be smart and capable... eventually I realized, they also have to be not batshit insane. This took time yes, but I stand firmly against crazy people being judges.

Sarah Palin: I should have vetoed more. I should have cut more taxes. And no, I've never compromised ever. I've never changed my mind. And I, me, the greatest governor ever didn't care who got to credit. I love America.

How do you change the tone?

Joe Biden: I think McCain would agree that I've been very good at convincing people to abandon their stupid beliefs. Don't question motives. That's some deep shit.

Sarah Palin: I already did. You don't learn what Democrat or Republican means and appoint people who will wish really hard that things will work themselves out. Or you be like Obama and kill America.

In closing?

Sarah Palin: I like everyone here. I like being able to answer questions without Katie Couric being mean to me. I'm gonna fight for America. I'm proud to be an American, unlike that upity Michelle Obama... whore.... I'm gonna fight for freedom so that one day my children can keep fighting and fighting and the fighting will go on forever.

Joe Biden: Don't fuck this up America. We need to respect ourselves. We need to believe in ourselves and be honest and work hard and accomplish anything. Barrack Obama is great and may God protect our troops.

And then they make out with tongue.

I'm Kind of Tired

2008-10-02T05:56:00.002-05:00

I've been awake for a while. I'm actually nearing the end of a story I've been writing. I'm maybe a chapter away from being finished with a first draft that had gone by rather quickly, which I'm realizing now is mostly due to my cavalier style of not worrying about minor things like having any of it make sense or connecting any sentence with the next sentence.

I started fleshing out a chapter and realized writing in present tense consistently is difficult and it's pretty tough to work the bits of talking into the narrative without feeling like I'm constantly just adding on little tags like "he said" which become very much repetitive and makes me sound stupid.

I'm realizing what I need to do is ignore the urge to finish a chapter. Finishing a chapter is probably a terrible idea for me. Maybe my desire to finish a chapter is the cause of my suffering.

I'm going to pretend I invented this thought.

I suppose I'm at that point where the writing stops being a theoretical future product and can be judged on its merit which is, at the moment, not something I particularly love. I imagine this is how people feel when they start considering marriage or long term commitments of some sort. I can't help but ask myself, is this going to suck? Am I capable of making this not suck? Is there something else I could do that would not suck? Will this suck less if I ignore the possibility that it might suck and convince myself that it won't suck? Given that the majority of the world's problems are the result of people not recognizing their own delusional thinking is it responsible, or even safe for me to continue without at least acknowledging the possibility that this is going to suck? Should I have more in my life than just this? Am I endangering myself and others with my potential to suck?

I feel these are all important questions.

At times I wonder if I should have been a painter. If I were a painter I could probably just look at naked people all day and not have to worry about whether or not I suck because naked people, in my personal experience are often nice and generally very supportive.

In closing, I hate people who aren't naked.

I had intended to end this with the previous statement but I just realized that aren't isn't a word in and of itself but rather the combination of are and not. This makes perfect sense but somehow I've spent over 22 years thinking aren't was its own word, spelled for some reason with an apostrophe. This makes me feel stupid and kind of want to die a little.

Huh...

2008-09-30T01:53:00.002-05:00

Here's a thought I had... or maybe Nietzsche had...

If it was discovered that Jesus was wrong or had sinned in some way, would Christians still be obligated to forgive him?

I'd like to think they'd do it, but I suppose that's asking a lot.

Been Watching the Debates

2008-09-26T21:02:00.003-05:00

Here's something I notice:

Obama is taller than McCain.

I've Decided to Hate Everything

2008-09-22T23:40:00.002-05:00

It's eleven forty-three on a Monday night.

I don't have a headache, unless I think about having or (interestingly enough) not having a headache. Maybe that's the nature of headaches, or the word headache... maybe the conservatives are right and words have an objective power to injure and as such must be banned. This is probably why so many of them refuse to read.

For the past week and a half I've been writing. I've been making progress. I'm at 30 or so pages, all roughly sketched dialogue and a few bits of narration just to make it look like I know what I'm doing. But, I'm doubting myself... not really. I'm doubting my work, which feels worse somehow. I feel the only redeeming factor is the fact that it's taken me so damn long to write this much and if I were actually an awful writer I'd have probably not been so consistently forced to stop writing and consider the validity of what I thought I might have been trying to say.

What's less comforting is the realization that I have nothing to do aside from write this goddamned awful story and then, when I feel too tired to continue some train of thought and recognize I wouldn't watch a sitcom with writing so clever, I stop writing and spend three to four hours wondering if I've made my characters too old, or not old enough, or too clever, or too obtuse, or whether a certain character's father, who's never mentioned in the story, having asked his girlfriend to move in with him ten years before the story begins would influence the way said character orders a glass of water.

I guess my point is there's a lot to consider and i can't seem to stop considering it. Ultimately I don't feel it's unfair in any way, given that I continually make the choice to write and it's not like I'm lifting things or wearing a suit. I suppose I could wear a suit... class up the fucking place.

But, and maybe this is where I was going with this, I don't have much else to do with myself. From cartoons and Muppet versions of Robert Lewis Stevenson short stories I was of the belief that cabin fever resulted in crazy hallucination and the desire to eat giant food that might in fact be some poor bastard you're stuck in a confined space with. I guess I'm more misanthropic and given to fits of despair. Maybe I don't have cabin fever. I don't see anything really motivating me though, save for the perverse urge to carry on despite the apparent hopelessness of it all. Hopelessness might be the wrong word. Pointlessness? I don't enjoy television anymore, because after the first season of most television shows (the ones that aren't comedies) the general tone shifts from interesting to desperate for attention... the shows become more advertisments for the next week's episode and rather than carry a story they seem to offer just enough bits of story to hint that something might be happening and I feel less entertained and more annoyed that they aren't just getting on with the damn thing. Notable exceptions to this general rule probably exist, but fuck if I've noticed.

So television's not helping much. Maybe Bradbury was right.

Porn's out, as I've explained.

I don't know anyone.

I have no hope of doing anything but writing in the foreseeable future.

So, what I notice is that I can keep writing because I'll fail at anything else, including being a real person and having any hope of enjoying anything at all about the world.

Here's Some Things I Hate

2008-09-19T23:24:00.002-05:00

I can't write today. That's something I'd like to be different.

I've been trying to watch pornography, and not that direct, to the point internet pornography, but the kind you find on cable stations, the kind of pornography that feels the need to justify its existence and in doing so accomplishes the monumental task of making me not care about nude women awkwardly attempting to engage in oral sex with each others navel. I'd accepted the common held belief that no one ought to watch pornography for the storyline years before I'd actually been in a position to watch pornography, having grown up without cable or internet access, but I fear this infection runs deeper. Perhaps I've given too much thought to the art-form that is film making to accept a tall nude blonde woman moving in slow motion shot in soft focus doing absolutely nothing without wondering, "why is this nude blonde woman with incredibly spherical breasts standing around doing absolutely nothing in slow motion, and what is the director intending to convey with all this blurriness?" I hadn't expected free cable softcore pornography to be interesting, but I'd hoped nude women, as an iconic figure, wouldn't be so prone to not holding my attention.

What's worse, I've noticed even the committed relationship I've fostered with internet pornography has begun to suffer. Maybe I'm not being challeneged in my outside life, which is entirely possible as I've not in fact left the house in over a week, but I'm stuck analyzing that which I would readilly accept, by which I mean naked people engaging in strange actions to achieve orgasm. After analysis pornography is becoming more and more disturbing, and less and less interesting. I'm reading into that which ought not be read into.

In this softcore not paid for cable porno I'm finding depressed, angry writing... much of which I'm capable of writing and try to avoid whenever possible. It reads like something written by someone who feels the world owes them, who believes women should have been appreciating them instead of whoever they choose to appreciate, and who finds the act of sex distasteful and boring.

The less than softcore is somehow worse though refreshingly less concerned. There aren't characters so there's less of a chance they'll be portrayed as simple pointless vehicles capable of transporting genitalia from scene to scene. But the overall tone is misanthropic, not even misanthropic, but hostile. I won't jump onboard the mysoginistic bandwagon... I don't know, is there a bandwagon? But there's a lot of anger, a lot of it aimed at women, a lot of it channelled through control and humiliation... which is something, in my less focused days I try to pretend everyone involved understands.

But it's not just the general tone. I've been watching girls go wild for quite some time now and remember my first girlfriend ask me, as we giggled at the DVD's in the video store behind those plastic screens with the world adult embrossed on them, "why do people watch Girls Gone Wild? I mean, can't they find regular porn?" Her point, I assumed, was that it wasn't enough for her to watch women flash, and that she'd rather see something more involved. And I suppose that's how I took Girls Gone Wild, all these years, understanding it as something girls did when they were liberated, or reclaiming their sexuality, or drunkenly engaging in typical overly-rational teenage behavior, or getting back at their repressive parents, or desperately demanding attention, or hoping to be remembered for their pertness... I've had a while to think about it... but I'm noticing, just now, not the girls, but the cameramen, whose inane rambling I've always managed to begrudgingly ignore. But for some reason I've been paying attention to things I'd rather ignore and I notice the majority of the dialogue on a typical girls gone wild episode is desperate begging on the part of the cameraman. The whole affair seems humiliating for all involved. I suppose mainly for the women, as they offer, for a hat or tank top, the producers the chance to make what must be millions of dollars.

So I hate that.

But I worry, maybe rightly, as I do, that I'm mistaken about this whole, "not being engaged in thought and as a result overly analyzing my world" thing. I've spent the past week feverishly working on a story, giving every angle I can imagine as much thought as possible. I wouldn't say I've been exhausting myself, but I do think I've been so intent on understanding these characters that maybe I'm unable to turn it off... as it were. On an unrelated note, I think I add "as it were" when I settle on a phrase I don't really think is interesting enough. But I'm worried. I'm worried because I want to write, I enjoy being engaged in this near exhausting contemplative process, and I think the writing would suffer if I weren't so into it. But... if it's going to ruin porn... and it's already an established fact that I can't maintain a relationship for any substantial length of time, and I'm terrible at meeting new people anyway... I guess what I'm saying is, if I'm going to keep up this charade of pretending to be a writer, they'd better start making some less hateful pornography.

I'm Alive

2008-09-15T20:10:00.002-05:00

So, I managed to not be a dead person for a while longer.

I've learned a few things during my altogether arduous ordeal. For the most part I realized my life in Texas is not much different due to the massive fucking hurricane that has left a whole hell of a lot of devastation in the areas near me. Mostly I understand this to mean I know two people in Houston, both of whom I share half a set of chromosomes with, and as a result, generally have no reason to leave the house I happen to be trapped inside. I don't suppose the mandatory curfew or the fact that nothing is open are unrelated to my being imprisoned is a novel idea (Denmark is a prison and all), but I do hate having to face it.

On a generally more relevant note I've been watching the twenty-four hour news channels, hoping to be just as misinformed as I would be had I been living not in the path of a giant-assed hurricane. I've decided I want John McCain to win the election. Maybe I have a perverse hope that I'm wrong and that karma, justice, and friends with benefits are all things that actually exist, but I believe I'd thoroughly enjoy Barack Obama giving a concession speech consisting of "You had your chance. I'd like to apologize to everyone who voted for me, but you live in a country full of morons. Best of luck assholes." It'd be juvenile. I accept this.

I don't understand the world the way I used to. Politicians probably don't have to lie to us anymore, but they seem to love doing it. I read Karl Rove told Fox News that he felt the campaigns were stretching the boundary of spin in their advertisments (of course, the article I read actually said Karl Rove Criticizes McCain Campaign... only later adding that he in fact criticized both, which, though the article failed to go into it, I inferred to mean Karl Rove, being a completely realized amoral douchebag, in some brilliantly perverse way, managed to say McCain outright lying ("Obama wants to raise your taxes," "Obama wants to teach your children about anal sex," or "Obama's a sexist racist," not to mention "Palin doesn't accept earmarks," "Palin wasn't for the bridge to nowhere and certainly didn't keep the money after publicly denouncing the idea," or "I'm in any way qualified to lead this nation") is just as awful as Obama citing facts, all the while allowing Karl Rove, and anyone who's too stupid to realize they're being lied to, to be comfortable being incredibly self-righteous pricks) which is neat.

Here's something I notice. Politicians seem to be able to avoid testifying, being investigated, or spoken to in stern voice because there may be a bias against them on the part of the interviewer, police officer, or United States Justice System. I suppose I understand why people get into politics. If I could get hoped up on drugs, steal huge amounts of money, and run through up-scale prostitutes at a rate that would make your average whoremonger recoil in fear. I'd love to do these things. Unfortunately, I'm not willing to pretend I love Jesus and apparently that's the one thing a politician in this country can't just excuse themselves from addressing.

Here are some things I'm starting to realize:

- People who tell you "this place needs someone like you" are probably very nice people who have no idea what they're talking about.

- People who think you're wise and would make an excellent father, president, or fireman are probably very nice people who don't know you all that well.

- Though I've only seen eighteen minutes of it, Californication is a very good television show.

- I'd like to have a cash advance. I recognize that one often has to write something before anyone with money bothers to give one money so that one can write things. I would like this to not be the case.

As a general matter, would it be obscene to drive seventeen hours so as to be in a city where sushi is available? Further along that line, would it still be objectionable when one considers that somewhere that isn't seventeen hours from here probably has sushi, and better sushi, most likely, but lacks the appeal of being seventeen hours from here and full of people I have a general array of conflicted feelings about?

2008-09-12T22:40:00.003-05:00

I also found these.

It sounds like someone's bouncing basketballs outside. One guy, bouncing dozens and dozens of basketballs.

An update:
I have taken two extra-strength aspirin for my headache. I decided the odds of me having to drive a car off of my sofa were more impressive than the possibility that I might be impaled on something or other. So, as a result, I chose blood thinners over opiates. I guess that whole odds thing isn't really true, which just goes to show you even minutes before my untimely demise I'm still terrible at math.

I've decided scientists are just as self-righteous as the religious, though I respect scientist because they're at least looking to change things and often times will confess that they have no idea what any of it means. It's difficult for me to deny the ballsiness of building machines that may destroy all of existence. You've got to be pretty certain of something when you build a machine that could potentially destroy all of existence, and no, it's not that you're not going to destroy all of existence, it's that what you're doing matters. Scientists, excluding those who are in it for fame, those who have nothing better to do, and those who are just trying to prove to themselves that women should have had sex with them in high school, are sure enough that advancing human knowledge is worthwhile that they're completely willing to put an end to humanity in pursuit of this goal. It's not democratic, but then again, I wouldn't trust the fate of our species to the collective whim of the "average man". If mankind as a whole were supposed to guide our species they wouldn't have invented nobel prizes, gold stars, or the cover of Time Magazine.

I've found grey hairs. I'm old enough to have grey hairs. And red hairs. And blonde hairs. And brown. And black. I have all the hair colors. This is a thing I like about me.

Power's going out.

And the wind began to howl.

More Cartoons I'm Going to Post In Case I Get Eaten by Snakes

2008-09-12T18:50:00.002-05:00

Here are Things The New Yorker Didn't Want

2008-09-12T18:47:00.006-05:00

I figure since I might be a dead guy soon there's no reason to try and sell them somewhere else.

So I'm Going To Die

2008-09-12T15:15:00.002-05:00

Hurricane. Big assed hurricane. Coming for me.

Hmm...

I suppose it is incumbent upon me to steal a small moment before my sudden, tragic death (I'm imagining either being torn apart, shredded, or crushed... probably ironically... like by the bathtub I filled with water... that'd be kind of a bitch) to reflect and share what final insight I may have insought (final as in before the splatter... is there a word that means before I'm splattered to death?).

"Gimme Shelter" is a pretty great song (also quite fitting... other songs I'm listening to include Cat Steven's "The Wind", Led Zeppelin's "When the Levee Breaks", Lynyrd Skynyrd's "Tuesday's Gone", Phil Collins' "In the Air Tonight", Bob Dylan's "Blowing in the Wind", "Shelter From the Storm", and "Hurricane", as well as Duke Ellington's "I'm sad 'cause a hurricane's 'bout to kill the fuck out of me suite").

Still think religion's a bunch of nonsense. Don't suppose anyone expected that to change.

I have doubts about Obama. I feel he's the best option and well beyond capable of leading the country. Also I trust that he's intelligent and morally a pretty great dude. But, even if he is president, it'll be president of a country full of people who don't understand what the word metaphor means, think freedom is so important it can't be trusted in their stupid hands, and believe their president to be too smart to lead their nation... and suspect he might be secret muslim.

The wind's getting stronger. This is a thing I notice.

I guess I don't really care about the election anymore. At this point my choice has been made for ... more than a year really... and any further coverage is just our country's parade of idiocy. It's depressing.

I have a headache. I'm considering taking some medication... I'm hesitant though... I mean, let's say a car is thrown into my living room. I'm probably going to want to be lucid enough to drive said car out of my living room. On a related note, I think, I've faced the decision of whether I want to use drugs or alcohol to deal with my headaches enough in my life that I don't feel I missed out. That's cheery I guess.

I don't think there's anything else I was supposed to do before being a dead guy. I'm sure there were things I could do. There's a lot of things I haven't done that could be pretty cool.

I never went to India. India seems like a cool place.

I never wrote anything that really stuffy looking official types on fancy committees considered to be better than everything written by all the other idiots who want to be told they're the best.

Probably would have been nice to have disproven religion... that could have been fun.

I wish yoga would have paid off in some way.

The trees are being jerked around somewhat fiercely. Gotta keep an eye on that.

Sinks

2008-09-09T13:39:00.003-05:00

Who the fuck decided all sinks had to be so fucking close to the ground? I suppose, if we want to be fair, we can admit that sinks are nearer the level of our hands than say, our feet, but, and this may just be me, I can't seem to use a sink without having to bend the fuck over and furiously wring my hands about one another, straining my back and as a result, slowly losing the will to live. Maybe it's just this house. I'm living in a new house, using a new bathroom... maybe it was designed for dwarfs or sticky little children, that they may easier wash their sticky little hands. But I hate it.

I'm not really up on my Ancient Greek or Roman history, but it's my understanding sinks have been around since those guys decided it'd be nice to splash their hands about before eating, cooking, and I assume love making. If we've had the technology for thousands of years now, and I go on record saying that I've been to truck stop bathrooms and seen urinals stacked at different heights to better suit the varying tallness of the average trucker, why can't a sink be built at proper "even with my hands without having to bend over" height?

On a less cheery note, this is what's become of my life. I'm keeping a check list of reasons I shouldn't be living in Texas. So far I have:

- Tiny Sinks

- It's Freezing (air-conditioners are set at a temperature I can only describe as "absolute 2", leaving me generally unable move for fear of wasting vital energy needed to stave off the hypothermia)

- The Crippling Isolation

- The Very Real Possibility I Am In Fact Living In A Retirement Community (I haven't seen anyone under the age of 40 in two weeks... or maybe it's a result of the air-conditioning... everyone's freeze dried)

- My Mother's Howard Hughes-ian Fear Of Insects (I suspect crazy might be contagious, and while I do not feel the particular need to place everything I own in plastic Tupperware boxes and jars I feel it's only a matter of time before I grow used to the idea and begin vacuum sealing my underpants)

- The Fact That No One Challenges My Nihilistic View Of The World (I notice isolation makes me forget that I am certain of very little and my opinions are generally based on poor evidence at best. If I surround myself with myself, not only am I plagiarizing what I thought was Simon and Garfunkel but turned out to be Yes, I risk becoming, I shudder to say, religious -- in that I've removed the possibility of someone who isn't me calling challenging my silly ideas, or even better telling me I'm full of shit. I have difficulty telling myself I'm full of shit, and not because I believe the things I believe to be valid, but rather because I'm conditioned to abhor self righteousness and, I suppose I might believe, I can't criticize myself without, on some level representing the opposing viewpoint and, in that sense, passively extol my greatness.)

- I Feel I'm Regressing (In Vietnam I had enough faith in myself to wander blindly into the heart of Hanoi without concern for where I may end up because ultimately I assumed I'd find my way back to something familiar... The other day I brought my little GPS machine to Jamba Juice because I thought there was a chance I might get lost... My parents are cautious people, which works well for them, but I don't like facing the reality that I can drive from Cedar Rapids to Kansas City without directions on the vague notion I knew where I was going because I'd been sitting in a van with someone who did it a year ago and not seven days later be anxious navigating a few suburban streets. Granted, there's more opportunity to be lost in a suburb than on a highway, but I can't pretend the daring hasn't left my do.)

- Dogs (There are dogs in my house. I like dogs. I hate that dogs don't shut the hell up.)

- People Seem To Think It's A Moral Imperative To Wake Me Up (At random times on a given morning someone will knock on my door and ask if I'm awake, or on occasion, if I'm alive... I've brought up the possibility that this is a passive aggressive way of suggesting I should be awake at a particular time of day, and I've been assured that "We're not passive aggressive people," which is of course bullshit. Everyone's a passive aggressive person. It's the real building block of society. Focus on the Family can focus on my dick. I don't know where that came from... I mean, I'm really not a passive aggressive person.)

- This Place Is Not Very Interesting

Internet Stuff

2008-08-14T14:20:00.002-05:00

Yesterday, or the day before, or maybe the day before that, I don't know, I realized that I can watch television on my computer. Not only does this mean I can sit in my living room and watch three separate television shows (there's a tiny TV in my kitchen which faces the living room), but I found I can also watch shows that don't suck.

I didn't watch Arrested Development while it was on the TV, but I can see why everyone was all "why they gotta cancel our favorite show?" In my opinion Ron Howard has finally redeemed himself for ... I want to say I had some reason to hate Ron Howard ... stealing all the attention from his massively talented brother ... fuck it. But I like the show. Or liked the show.

What I notice about life: stupidity redeems people. I don't mean stupidity excuses our vice and selfishness, but I think it keeps us from enjoying our ill-gotten gains and allows us to thwart our own dark aspirations. It's an idea I had.

I just saw a pretty lady get shot. I'm watching CNN, and a Georgian reporter was grazed by a bullet on camera. Whatever chore of a network anchor is covering the story read, I'm assuming from the bottom of the screen, that a reporter had been shot and I said, in an internal, possibly wry monotone, "huh... that sucks." Then they showed their footage, as apparently it happened on camera, and I noticed something, namely that the reporter was a very attractive woman. And I became instantly concerned -- maybe twelve times as concerned. But yeah, that was weird... I didn't expect to see a pretty lady get shot today.

Anyway.

Here's something I know. I hate dogs. More to the point, I hate my dogs. There are two of them in this house. They won't shut up. I should preface this by pointing out I like to sleep at strange times. If it's say, six o'clock in the morning I'm probably asleep. So if it's six o'clock in the morning and the dogs I'm supposed to be watching start barking at joggers, or birds, or whatever the fuck it is dogs bark at when it's six in the morning, I start to hate them.

But it's not just the dogs. It's also the phone. Apparently when one's family is moving one's morning must be laced with phone calls from moving companies, utilities types, parent's friends, and a dozen or so other callers who I chose to ignore because I feel answering the phone only encourages these people.

Also, when moving one finds oneself in the regrettable position of being hungry and having no food with which to sate that hunger. In short, I can't buy food that I won't be eating in the next few days. But, as I'm far too hungry to leave the house, I find myself unable to procure foodstuffs with which to stave off my inevitable demise.

Today I did so many things

2008-08-12T01:21:00.003-05:00

The world is full of people who have no intention of loving you. I think that'd be a good title for a book, or album, or maybe a new line of greeting cards.

Today I did so many things.

I cut the grass, I rode my bike, I ate Burger King breakfast, I got a blueberry smoothie, I wrote a few pages of my most soon to be rejected writing, I washed some dishes, I did a little bit of yoga, I ate a club sandwich on a croissant (so maybe not technically a club sandwich), I made corn bread muffins, I watched a little bit of television (of which I remember nothing), I realized that chick from the terminator TV show is twenty-seven years old, I got a nose bleed, I investigated the strange car parked in front of my house (turned out it was locked), I listened to the theme song from M*A*S*H, held a door open for a teenager, nodded to a passing jogger, and considered taking a nap.

I did not take that nap.

Hey, remember when I said I quit? Turns out I didn't... of course, who didn't see this coming?

2008-07-26T20:16:00.004-05:00

Yeah, so my attempt at using the internet for my own vile, capitalistic, selfish reasons has proven itself stupid and pointless... a pipe-dream, I suppose.

I got another rejection from the New Yorker today. There was a pleasant little note in the envelope though. Someone drew a line through the standard rejection "thanks but no thanks" bit and wrote something like "very nice work, but not what we're looking for". I've finally realized what unsuccessfully asking all those girls out in high school was preparing me for.

Anyway, that was annoying.

I wonder what the market's like for "cartoons that are very much written for the New Yorker but not quite fit to be published in the New Yorker". I'm hoping that it's great. Something tells me it might not be, but I'm struggling to be more optimistic.

Yesterday I got to pretend to be a lumberjack. I used an ax to turn a stump into a bunch of little bits of wood. Halfway through the job I resentfully accepted two facts, the first being that axing is difficult and the second that fireworks need to start pulling their weight in our society. Shortly thereafter I made another realization, which was that axes are not, but very likely should, be sold with an accompanying pair of gloves. I've gone through at least eight band-aids since yesterday. I feel like my hands were drawn by Frank Miller. On the upside, I can now add sustaining several ax injuries to the list of cool things I've done in my life.

So, glass is half full:

I now have almost thirty cartoons, that I think are pretty damn good. On top of that I don't have to worry about whether or not sending these cartoons to magazines that aren't the New Yorker is a missed opportunity, what with them already having been rejected.

No More Blogging

2008-06-24T21:54:00.002-05:00

After literally minutes of consideration I've decided to stop blogging and relaunch my old website. I'll be at CranberryJustice.com from now on. So, anyone looking can find me there.

Cheers.

What the Fuck?

2008-06-21T15:48:00.000-05:00

http://www.iht.com/articles/2008/06/20/america/wiretap.php

So Part of Me Hates Being an Adult

2008-06-21T01:26:00.002-05:00

Here's something I notice:

I'm too old to care about the world.

I'm too young to not be upset about that.

Also I'm drunk.

Philosophical Point

2008-06-17T02:25:00.002-05:00

Is it possible to rationally decide to be crazy? There was a time when I honestly thought I was crazy, which is to say I was convinced I was crazy (it helped that I had no discernible medical knowledge) and I remember being more content.

So if I wasn't crazy, but thought I was, and as a result was happy, then isn't it probable that I can decide to be crazy, and as a result be happy?

A lot of people reject reality.

Here's something I notice, I'm bored and I don't see any reason to not be bored. I feel like I could trick myself out of being bored, or distract myself from it, but it all feels forced and pointless (which is to say while bored I can't imagine not being bored, though I accept completely that I won't feel bored at some point in the future) which leads me to believe I have very little control over my life.

In a certain sense I do. I can choose to open a can of soda. I can choose to drive to Miami. I can choose to strip to the nude and bury myself in chocolate pudding (I have enough money to buy the pudding, I have a shovel in the shed, and I have no qualms about being nude). Point being, I have control over my actions.

But, I don't know if I have a similar control over my motivation. Meaning, I don't particularly want to strip to the nude and bury myself in chocolate pudding. I don't have an urge to change myself, which is annoying in that I'm not particularly enjoying my current self.

If I were in control of my motivation, I imagine I'd stop thinking about growing old, being a broken person, eventually not existing, being a burden to my family, being a disappointment to my friends and family, and dying without ever feeling a sense of accomplishment. If I were in control of my motivation I could focus on the fact that I am young, for the most part I'm a functional human being, I do exist, I have been a source of joy and inspiration (artistic, not spiritual... ewww) for my friends and family, and while it's debatable as to whether or not I've accomplished anything worthwhile at this point in my life, there's a considerably fair chance I'm going to find myself satisfied with something I've done (like that time I stuck it to that diminutive prick from the sports section... prick).

Were I crazy, I think I'd be able to ignore the apparent pointlessness. But, I wonder, would I be able to revel in the pointlessness? Could I be content lancing windmills that I knew to be windmills? I think that's what I want, but I'm not an absurd-hero. I've tried to embrace the idea, the way I'd embraced the idea of being a superhero when I was twelve (by twelve I mean 12-20) but to be completely honest I think the likelihood of me finding a lasting strength in meaninglessness of existence is not unlike the likelihood of me looking great in spandex (spandex first, flying second).

In a few hours I'm going to be flying to Houston. Hopefully a few days in Texas will be just what I need to brighten up my disposition.

*I hate that commercials at three in the morning are overwhelmingly concerned with selling me sleep medication. I get it, target audience and all... but seriously, salt in the wound.

**I'm noticing the commercials for Mike's Hard Lemonade stressing the "hardness" of their product. In and of themselves I enjoy the commercials, but it strikes me, no amount of clever wordplay is going to make me feel any less ostracized at family gatherings when I reach for "not a beer" and have nothing to say about baseball player's statistics. It is, of course, not my intention to praise the taste of Mike's Hard Lemonade, my point is just that the commercials either feel they've got the authority to deny reality (ie: the Bush administration) or feel they needn't reflect reality because people are desperate to believe they're just as manly as their beer drinking associates (which is, of course false... men drink beer... and build shit... and punch stuff)

Guess What I Saw

2008-06-16T20:12:00.003-05:00

I just saw a commercial for Scientology. On the television. A commercial. Seriously.

While there are many reasons I object to this, the most glaring is the fact that I use television to escape from reality by distracting myself with silly stories containing impossibly simple life lessons that can only prove inadequate when viewed outside the context of this pointless time wasting distraction. As such I feel I can understand what it's like to be religious, but I don't barge into a church halfway through the "Job deserved it" speech and tell everyone they should be watching House. And I love House.

I can respect their right to busy themselves with their mindless, uninteresting fairy-tales. I want them to respect my right to watch television doctors quip cleverly and occasionally talk to patients.

I don't know if you're getting this, but I think religion is stupid.

And I love House.

McCain

2008-06-14T23:56:00.002-05:00

http://www.nytimes.com/2008/06/15/us/politics/15pows.html?hp

So what I notice about this is that McCain, who was tortured in Vietnam, seems to think people who weren't stubborn enough to be tortured for years should have been court-martialed.

Also I don't like that stuff about indoctrinating our soldiers... more so... than we... already... screw it.

Show of Hands

2008-06-11T22:12:00.002-05:00

I've come into some easy money. The question:

Do I use the money to get settled in an apartment somewhere?

- or -

Do I buy something incredibly stupid?

If I invest in an apartment I'll have: a place to live, an incredibly satisfying distance between myself and my family, the illusion of being an adult, a place to bring "the ladies", a physical manifestation of the enveloping coffin that is existence, and a place to put my books.

If I buy something incredibly stupid I could have: a vespa, a high definition video camera, a bunch of crazy computer software what to pretend I'm a Hollywood movie film editor, a segue, rollerblades, video-games, booze, a weekend in Vermont, surf lessons, a bathtub full of spaghetti, lots and lots of pornography, guitars, bass guitars, a nice suit, candy, real sex doll, hundreds of blankets, root beer floats, plastic surgery, or stocks... like in the stock market.

As I wrote the latter list I realized I have no interest in owning anything right now. Partially this might be because I own a lot of shit. Can I buy away an existential crisis? Without resorting to powerful prescription medication?

On a lighter note, the Hulk comes out soon. That's going to be pretty great. I hear they cut out a scene where Hulk tries to kill himself and somehow meets Captain America in the process; I believe the scene was deemed too interesting for the masses. So no Captain America. That blows. But still Ed Norton... so kick ass.

I'm going to bake myself a cake. Funnel cake. If I could make a funnel cake I'm pretty sure I'd follow a carnival around and offer superior funnel cake from my booth a hundred or so feet from the carnival proper. The secret will be that I'm in league with the carnies, having struck a deal with the carnival manager, Dwayne "eight toes" McAllister, what for the right to operate my cakery without threat of carnival style vengeance, provided I teach them all to read and pass their GED's. I will also be growing a mustache and getting daily hepatitis vaccinations.

Stayed Up All Night (Again)

2008-06-08T07:37:00.002-05:00

Finished a passable draft of that story I might have written about. Anyway, I'm liking it.

Here's something I never got a satisfactory answer about: if you video-tape yourself having sex with a prostitute is it still illegal? Does creating pornography depend on intent to distribute? I wonder about these things.

Also I'm feeling inspired by Young MC's seminal hit, Bust a Move. Sometimes I wish life was how Young MC saw it in the early nineties. Then I remember the spandex bicycle shorts. Then I feel disillusioned all over again.

Devastating Realization

2008-06-05T01:20:00.002-05:00

I've come to realize something tonight. Recently I ran into some money. That was a strangely worded sentence, but I got a little extra in the wallet and I'm thinking to myself, "I'm bored, I got money, maybe I should buy one of those computer video games." I don't particularly like video games. I usually get bored when I realize I can turn them off and no one's life is really all that effected. On occasion though I find someone has gone ahead and made a video game about something I think is cool, like Star Wars, Spiderman, or Wes Anderson movies. On these rare occasions I can seem to ignore my distaste for sitting in front of a computer not looking at naked people, but only for a while.

I've developed a trick for talking myself out of purchasing such time wasting paraphernalia, which is I ask myself if I were talking to someone at the grocery store (I don't go to bars) and I wanted to let them know what I was up to, would I be ashamed to admit I had spent the past week developing my connection with the force or some such nonsense? Usually the answer is yes and I decide to spend my cash at Starbucks instead.

This of course leads me to my devastating insight. I was considering getting a video game for my cool Macintosh computer and I asked myself if I had any reason to think people would be interested in listening to me explain how my video game worked. The answer was a resounding no, as expected. Unfortunately I then immediately considered what else I would be doing with my time and settled on reading... I like to read... want to make something of it? It was at this point I made the mistake of asking myself if anyone would be interested in me explaining what I'd read the week before. To be fair it would be pretty awesome to stumble upon someone in the grocery store who thought my insights into Henry Miller's prose was interesting, but odds are this probably won't happen. So I'm left with the undeniable truth that whether I spend my week shooting lasers at space men or reading about a morally bankrupt American surviving in pre World War II Paris, I'm going to have nothing to say to whoever happens to be standing behind me in line while I buy my yogurt.

I don't suppose I should let this deter me from reading for the next week, but it just bothers me that I'd likely have a more fulfilling interaction if I spent the next seven days watching baseball games and memorizing batting averages. People sure like to discuss baseball... not so much Albert Camus... pretty much just baseball around these parts.

Thought About This Today

2008-06-04T17:02:00.002-05:00

I don't know if it's just the books I happen to read but I'm starting to think great writing is all about incredibly selfish people. This leads me to believe everyone is an incredibly selfish person and great writing is partially about exploring that.

Though I've no real evidence to support this assertion I do have a few yet to be thought out ideas on the subject. I should warn, I came about this discovery while listening to Coldplay's new single Violet Hill. As surprising as it may seem, I haven't listened to all that much Coldplay in my life, but this song doesn't seem as young as the tunes I remember being used as a back drop for MTV's real world when I was in high school (maybe earlier). The tone is different -- I don't know enough about music to really do this justice but, as I am a writer, I like to pretend I know about almost everything -- and the subject seems ... broader? Their earlier songs felt like most band's early songs (save for Weezer whose songs have always been and always will be about not being twenty years old yet) which is to say about a single thought, or in Coldplay's case, a single emotion. I think their early strength was in capturing a tone and using the song as an exploration of that feeling.

But now it sounds more complicated, which isn't to say the actual music is more complex, it's just something about the scope of the song. I don't want to say there's an intellectual depth (mostly because I can't decipher the words to anything but the chorus -- and frankly I don't feel I have to) but this song doesn't offer a delusionaly simple solution (the truth is we need much more than love) or content to explore the seemingly genuine profundity of some post coital, drunk on endorphin, carefree oneness with the universe (I'm looking at you Hey Ya).

I think I may be focusing entirely too much on Coldplay. I've noticed this in books recently, but the more engaging literature is about larger issues than falling in love with people or saving the world can fulfill, which isn't to say these aren't themes in great works, but they aren't the end that is to be reached by the final reel. There has to be something more than just plot to make a story captivating, no matter how convoluted that plot may be (Matrix Revolutions) and I'm sure anyone reading this knows the other half of the equation is character, but it's more than writing characters who are earnest or quirky.

I think great writing for a young man is to be very honest; young people are concerned with finding truth. But older writers seem to go beyond that. I don't know if it's just adding complexity to the character, letting them feel conflicting emotions, making them self aware... something like that, or if it's about unsticking their characters in time (not in the Vonnegut sense). Maybe great writing is about losing sight of what is true always, and accepting that truth fluctuates for characters as time passes. I don't want to sound like a White House Press Official (did you guys hear about that book; Bush authorized the leaking of a CIA agent's identity -- I remember when that was going on and everyone was terrified to accuse him because that's like literally treason... anyway) but there's something to this "getting caught in something larger" idea.

Maybe it's just my writing, but I know I've always intended to be conscious of whether a character was acting in character or betraying some "true nature," having conflict when the character was acting unlike themself and celebrating a character's self awareness when they find some genuine and simple expression of that self. I'm starting to feel that this might be too simple. Maybe characters become what they are doing (Sartre... always back to Sartre). This isn't to say the character can't be "living a lie" and eventually repent, but I think I've been too quick to attribute this revelatory state to a return to the self rather than the continuation of the character. I think when we embrace a simple idea we feel we've left the older distractions and complications behind, purified ourselves somehow, but that doesn't seem right. I think great literature understands that we are just as true to ourselves when we are aimless and complicated as when we are focused and purified.

I've come this far and I think I may have forgotten all about that selfish idea in the beginning. Maybe I just meant focussed on the self... or highly aware of the self. I don't know if this is a result of becoming more confident as a writer and thus more able to explore larger ideas or maybe it's remembering to be engaged in character (I think television suffers from this problem most notably -- the Simpsons used to be engaging, there was an understanding of the motivations for the characters, but with confidence the writers seem to have become comfortable and with comfort seems to come the assumption that the character is being written "in character" which results in less exploration into the character and more cartoonish ideas represented by a vehicle named Homer Simposon).

I'm going to go read some Proust and see if I can't change my mind entirely by the end of the day.

Finished Reading

2008-06-04T00:45:00.003-05:00

I'm done with the Power and the Glory. Mostly I felt disappointed, which is considerably unfair actually. I enjoyed the story, and the characters were interesting... so it had pretty much everything I look for. I guess I was expecting something more from Graham Greene's "masterpiece." Come to think of it Greene probably didn't refer to this as his masterpiece, so my problem's most likely with Penguin Classics.

I haven't read Ulysses, but I'm expecting the same reaction when I finally get around to Joyce. I wonder if the days of me reading something and feeling awed and intellectually fulfilled are gone. After seeing that written down I almost feel like I get religious people... come to think of it I don't remember wanting to be satiated by a novel.

I was surprised by Greene's characters though. I read Quiet American in while I was in Thailand and I remember falling in love with his tone; that cynical, broken, aloof, knowing look at the world spoke to me. I was expecting the same from this story but I didn't find it at all as distanced.

The tone seemed far more desperate. I won't say hopeless because it had that strange "everyone's connected... shared human experience... conscious of the ambiguity" feel which is as close to hope as I think writers usually manage without becoming deluded and escapist in nature. I like when characters get pulled through the story by larger forces and eventually wonder why they are where they are and whether they can explain or at least understand what it is they're doing.

On an unrelated note I did a whole bunch of push-ups yesterday and now my chest feels tight and may be surging with pain. I don't like that the only thing I know about heart attacks is that they make your chest feel tight and they apparently hurt like hell. Point being I don't work out enough to know I'm not dying of a massive coronary.

If I'm still alive later I'll let you know what else I'm reading.

I Wrote Something Today

2008-06-02T23:50:00.002-05:00

I've been writing. I've got a few pages of dialog.

It's about relationships... and doing it... and also fire.

Twenty bucks says this one gets published -- eventually.

Also can I just have twenty bucks regardless? I'll spend it on something responsible; I promise.

Something I Read

2008-05-30T02:04:00.002-05:00

I spent today reading half of The Power and the Glory by Graham Greene.

At some point I read the sentence "Hatred is a lack of imagination."

I wish I had a time machine, what to steal that sentence and publish it before Greene did.

Absolutely nothing else happened today.

New Comic

2008-05-28T22:45:00.004-05:00

I'm thinking my inability to produce cartoons is due to my inability to leave my house, which is mostly due to me not having planned on doing anything with my life.

On the upside, I've been doing yoga and now my arms stretch to next week.

Oh Hell...

2008-05-28T00:22:00.002-05:00

I'm officially out of ideas. I had enough ideas to get through college and now I've run dry. So... I think this makes me a normal person. I don't even care about health care anymore. Pretty soon I'm probably going to think it'd be crazy to pull out of Iraq until total and complete victory has been achieved. It makes perfect sense. We need to win or else we're not winners.

Maybe that's the problem with college; we just let things get too complicated by learning about them. We could waste time trying to tell the difference between the political and religious groups grasping for some semblance of power in the Middle East or we could realize when the war's over they're all going to be Yankees fans anyway and none of that deep-rooted social identity will mean anything. John McCain is just looking at the big picture.

So tomorrow I'm going to draw two cartoons. I was going to draw one today; this did not happen. I think I'm going to try to get something published as soon as I can because this not accomplishing anything is getting old.

I'll let you know how it goes.

Two or Three Weeks Since Graduation

2008-05-24T23:07:00.002-05:00

I remain uncertain as to how long I've been out of school. I feel it's been some time as I've shaved at least twice since graduation and both times I remember feeling the process was arduous, due to the heavy growth of beard.

My hair's been getting longer, as hair seems to do. I tried to fix this but it seems there's an obscure law on the books in this town which prohibits hair to be cut after the hour of six in the afternoon on a Saturday. Essentially my day consisted of driving from strip mall to strip mall, disappointedly idling past Supercuts, Great Clips, and a men's only hair cuttery called Honeycuts, in hopes of breaking the covenant between myself and the Lord (I'm feeling too tired to make a really clever Samson reference here... in case you were curious, that's what I was going for).

So far, since leaving college I've:
-done some writing (it's a rough outline for an incredibly blasphemous novel about)
-painted that painting from the last post
-drew a cartoon (half a cartoon actually... there's the drawing but it's lacking the funny)
-doubled the number of days I've gone without showering this year (the number was very small and thus easily doubled... still gross though)
-found a lava lamp in my basement
-bought three scented candles (honeydew, pumpkin pie, cinnamon roll)
-eaten a tub of organic yogurt
-watched the new Indiana Jones (no comment)
-rented some movies that were actually pretty great (Lars and the Real Girl, Hot Rod, The Savages)
-bought new shoes (puma's)
-found the Thai consulate in Chicago
-submitted fiction and cartoons to magazines (only response so far was that I submitted in an improper format, but they did ask me to resubmit... so that's neat)
-shaved at least twice
-made Indian mango sorbet
-watched teenagers drive five sports cars and a minivan down the street revving their engines
-helped my mother paint the garage door
-painted shamrocks on a flower pot for my grandmother
-read up to halfway through the last book in the Dark Materials trilogy (I like it because it combines my love of overly murderous polar bears with my mistrust of religion)
-spent three nights not sleeping (haven't done this since last summer)
-ate sushi three times
-applied to work at bookstores and coffee shops
-freaked out about not having any friends within driving distance
-forgot where everything in this town is
-still can't come to terms with my inevitable death
-noticed that I haven't been sick since that first week in Asia (I remember being a kid and being sick like every month... my adult immune system seems to have things under control)
-watched Jesus Christ Superstar (I liked it)
-looked into graduate school (looking back I probably should have considered this a year ago... to be fair a year ago I had no idea I was going to be an English major though)
-wondered if my lack of human interaction is going to effect my ability to write (crazy reclusive geniuses usually excel in rational analytic fields... at least this is my assumption)
-found a box of Spiderman Valentine's Day cards (unopened)
-took up jogging
-gave up jogging
-killed a bee with a rubberband (it was a giant bee, on the skylight of a two story room... I couldn't believe it either)
-got hit on by a seventeen year old girl who works at one of the Hallmark stores in the mall (rest assured, I was duly incredulous)
-realized the major difference between serious films and action flicks is that in action flicks people jump at some point and no one seems to think this is out of the ordinary (I haven't jumped at all in six years)

That's all I remember at the moment.

I've Been Painting

2008-05-15T23:09:00.005-05:00

Yeah, it's Shakespeare. Deal with that Philistines.

Also I'm thinking it might be difficult to tell from the photos, but it's huge. Maybe six feet wide. Maybe twelve. Probably six.

Something I Noticed About Being an Adult

2008-05-15T05:28:00.002-05:00

So I'm noticing that when you're an adult you can find a picture of yourself from several years ago and it very well may look a lot like the present day you. I think that's cool.

Also tonight I downloaded three versions of Country Roads and have been listening to them while trying to write. As of now the entirety of my writings since graduating equal three pages of me complaining that I'm not being a productive writer. This is a problem for me.

The other day I was thinking about being a writer (or some other kind of artist type) and I realized to be a writer someone has to have a whole hell of a lot of faith in themselves. Most college majors these days lead into a system... this at least is my understanding. English, unlike say accounting or physics, is a major that prepares one to go to grad school and creative writing is a major that prepares one for a very uneasy two weeks post graduation. It just seems interesting to me that there's no clear system one can embrace if they want to be a writer, which is to say there's no real path to becoming a great writer save for becoming really good at writing. I find something about betting on my own ability to produce rather than putting my faith in a system somewhat empowering. On the other hand, there's something terrifying about not having a road map to the future.

I read once that people can not envision time. This makes sense to me because it matches my personal experience (which is the same logic I used as a six year old to reject the church). But I find it unsettling that the only certainty in my future is the graduation party my parents are throwing me at the end of the month. When I was in school I used the end of a semester as a gauge for the passage of time. Over the summer it was the beginning of the school year that signaled time just kept on moving. Whether I would dread the coming date or rush toward it anxious to push forward I always seemed to have a big abstract coming towards me. I'm not feeling that right now and I don't know how to feel about that. I suppose the idea of summer vacation is still in my mind, but it's wearing away faster than I expected it to.

These are things that I notice.

Here's Something I Like

2008-05-13T02:44:00.002-05:00

More Things I Found Today

2008-05-11T23:59:00.013-05:00

Another Graphic Piece

2008-05-11T20:51:00.007-05:00