January 01, 2009
Happy Fucking New Rage
Apparently I slept through the midnight festivities and Odessa trying to wake me (thrice!) which I guess only proves that I could sleep through nuclear winter if you filled me with enough food and beer. While I'd have preferred to have beem awake for this, I can't help but think of this as symbolic of the cynicism and ennui that's managed to grab the US by the throat within the past year. While a few things were cool, like.....er, the election results and Iron Man and Slumdog Millionaire, I think most Americans and residents of the planet in general would prefer to leave '08 in the dust. So here's to the end of the Bush administration, goodbye and a middle finger to an utterly boned economy, and to crossed fingers with a tentative but somehow more sure hope...not just for America, but for the world - under a new and hopefully more pragmatic set of leaders. Here's to mankind... we're gonna need all the goodwill we can muster.
December 26, 2008
Holiday rage just kicked back in. I raided the Talon Mercs hideout in Fallout 3 last night, snuffed their commanding officer, got some cool stuff, and went out the wrong door. Now when I try to go back into the CO's quarters, the game freezes. No big deal, maybe the disc is dirty...so I took the disc out of the 360 and while cleaning it, I noticed cracks all along the center of the disc. CRACKS. What the fuck, packaging people?
Argh. Mass comment purge, too. Apparently the spamming dolts have started offering advice on how to handle spam comments. Does that count as the internet serpent eating its own tail?
I took vacation time until the 5th...it's not much, but it's nice to unwind and just dick around at home. Considering the massive amount of guilt that I got from the old guard whenever I would take time off, it's nice to have someone say "Vacation? Okay, that's fine!"
With the return of television into the household, I've noticed that I'm slowly starting to leave it on as background noise. Granted, most of the time it's on the news so I'm not being slowly lulled to the dark side by "Teach Your Baby To Read!" or "Get Hip-Hop Abs Like Black Dudes!", but it's still odd to be going back to the same thing that I used to endlessly bitch about.
But I'm sort of loving the DVR. I've got a handful of shows and a ton of movies on there (which I promised myself I'd start going through - I also need to finish a DVD review for CHUD, but I'm using today to officially unwind from the past few days and just the general holiday rage that consumes people (and me) at this point in time. I think it's getting tougher all around and I'm trying to decide if it's drawing people closer together or pushing us against each other to the point that people are cracking. Go figure.
December 15, 2008
Dispatches from the Sucking Void
So the latest news is that my mom is depressed. She’ll be sitting around the house and just bursts into tears. During her latest phone call, she informed me of this and mentioned how she went to see a new doctor at the recommendation of a co-worker. The doctor a) bumped up her dose of Prozac, and b) told her to see a counselor.
The next day, the same co-worker told her that she could always come over and talk to them if she needed to let it out. I immediately told her that that was a terrible idea and to NOT DO THAT, because people at her job are weirdly treacherous and there’s always the lurking issue of small-town gossip.
Apparently Wal-Mart is cutting corners to save some profit, since exploiting child labor in third-world countries doesn’t bring those profits into dear old Bentonville, AR like they used to when Pappy Walton was still sucking his last breath of air on the ventilator as his family hovered around him like a pack of slavering jackoff dogs waiting for the kill.
So their latest version of “cutting corners”, other than paying women less than they do men and giving their employees the shittiest benefits possible short of shooting you in the head as you lay dying from an impacted molar, is slyly adding and subtracting hours during the work week, so most employees end up with 38 hours at the end of the week rather than 40. How charming.
She then went on to tell me that she’d have to pay out the $80 fee that they charged at the doctor’s office, and that she had to borrow $100 from my step-grandfather just to pay bills. “Oh, and your stepdad’s out of work again and probably won’t have anything until the start of the year.” Happy holidays.
Of course, not even a month ago she was talking about how my stepdad had work coming out of his ears, how they just got a new car, how everything was just going fine. Now this. It’s feast or famine with these guys, and I don’t understand it.
So she went on to mention that my stepdad was probably going to apply for a job doing night stock at the new Brookshire’s Grocery that was set to open up in town.
“Good.”, I said, “It’s about time that he applied for something steady. I don’t understand why he never did this in the first place.”
“Well, there just aren’t any jobs.”
“Funny, there were plenty of jobs several years ago when he decided just to hang out at home drinking while you worked all the time.”
She made an odd faint noise that was obviously rooted in displeasure, but I couldn’t keep my mouth shut. It was the lipstick-on-a-pig thing all over again. I know that she cares for him and vice-versa, and they sort of keep each other sane in the way that rats bind together and float as a seething mass in water just to keep from drowning, but there are only so many excuses I’m willing to endure from them anymore. I love them both deeply, but they’re constantly bumming me out.
It’s like the roles have been reversed and I’m the pompous, scolding parent all the way in another city, griping at my kids for screwing up yet again. While talking to her, I almost feel like this is a half-hearted request for money. Like I’m going to pull a Congress and give my parents a bailout. I laugh inside while wanting to punch something as the conversation grows more awkward.
I keep telling myself that I knew this was coming, because I could feel it like a buzzing in my chest. It never fails. This time of year brings out the best and worst in people, and always the worst in my family. My mom immediately gets depressed (again) and tries to basically tell me – without explicitly telling me – that I won’t get dick this year, and that’s if they can scrape together the money for a card.
And you know what? I’m fine with that. I’m used to that. I’m not some insolent bratty bastard of a child howling at my parents for not giving me gifts, because I know that life sucks in that place. It’s hard, and it’s kind of why I hate going back there to visit because I have to see just how much further down the ladder they’ve slipped. But I do it, because it gives me perspective, and at the end of the day I do really love my family despite all the dysfunction and the occasional Republicanism and the weirdness and the substance abuse and the horrible financial planning.
However, when they come to me with the Tiny Tim act, I immediately tune out. At least have the balls to tell me that you’re broke and that I can put on a Santa hat and go take a flying fuck at a rolling donut for Christmas. At least then it wouldn’t make me mad when you start telling me about how you got a new car but then you’re broke again.
Staring at the wall is only working for so long, and while I’m oddly Zen after my cheat meal last night, I’m glad that she didn’t call me when I was in the first week of my current PSMF diet. I would have screamed Slayer lyrics into the phone, eaten it, and taken pictures of me shitting it out just to mail it to them with the words “THIS IS WHAT YOU MAKE ME DO TO MYSELF” written in my own fecal matter and blood on a piece of white printer paper. She finally asks me how everything is with Odessa and I.
While reciting the rote lines that I give everyone who asks me how I’m doing, I look up to watch the cats hungrily stare at a crow perched on the wire outside our bedroom window. The food chain hindered by nothing more than a screen and a wire grate. I think about how I’ve gotten so used to rattling this off to co-workers that it comes as second nature, like pulling a string on a talking doll and hearing it yammer away until you get sick of it and throw the wretched thing in the dumpster. I wonder if anyone ever pays attention in the first place to realize that I keep telling them the same thing over and over just to see the day that someone calls me on it. At least then I’ll know they’re not pretending to care.
I end up gently cutting the call short because I’m really not in the mood to hear more doomsaying. It feels like we’re just walking circles around each other conversation-wise. I’ve had all I can take of it for now, and the more it goes on, the angrier I get. I tell her that I love them…that we love them, and I really mean it.
I hang up.
I lay in bed and absentmindedly stare at the comforter for a bit. It’s actually not that comforting.
November 11, 2008
Stuck Between Barack And A Hard Place
I’m not too thrilled with the news that the Democrats may very well let Joe Lieberman slide for all of his craven ass-kissery with the McCain campaign. On one hand, I can understand the Dems not wanting to waste too much time with infighting, seeing as how that’s what the Republicans have been doing since the primaries, and also taking into consideration all the battles ahead if the currently hotly-contested Senate seats don’t go blue.
But on the other hand, fuck Joe Lieberman. That backstabbing two-faced little toad started his temper tantrum back when Ned Lamont fired a shot across the bow and kicked off a bid for Lieberman's own seat in CT and hasn’t stopped squealing since, having taken the stage with John McCain to throw barbs at his party’s presidential nominee, entering that gaudy whore’s den we called the RNC to deliver an address on McCain’s behalf, and even standing onstage and saying a few words alongside Caribou Barbie herself, Sarah Palin, that were shots at Barack Obama.
This isn’t just sour grapes coming from someone who wholeheartedly voted for Obama and can’t stand the current crop of Republicans, folks. This is assbackwards spinning - nay, a political game of Twister - on Lieberman’s behalf, and they’re probably going to let him get away with it. Not only did they catch him with his hands in the cookie jar, there’s video of him gorging away and jacking off into the jar afterwards. Sure, there’s also the completely understandable concern about stripping Lieberman of his chairmanship and further making him a martyr that’s only more likely to run for solace within the doddering, clammy, sexual predator-esque arms of the GOP, but at this point: is it THAT much of a loss?
Look, Dems. You don’t have to make a debacle out of this. We don’t need to tar and feather Lieberman and run him out of DC on a rail. It’s much more simple than that.
You can call a secret session, where Lieberman enters the room and finds it to be pitch-black save for a sole spotlight honing down on Barack Obama, who is seated in a plush chair at the head of the room, nothing around him except for a microphone. Joe can stutter and give all kinds of bullshit reasoning for bucking the party lines and smooching up to the right-wing – even the farfetched idea of McCain offering Lieberman a foursome with Meghan, Cindy, and Sarah Palin won’t suffice. Joe will endlessly plead for absolution, and Obama can sit and yawn and endure his crap, only punctuating his impassioned defense with three words.
“Kiss the ring.”
And Lieberman will slowly wander his way through the dark, toward what he sees to be the only salvation of his dignity and political career. He’ll stoop down to his knees as Obama extends his left hand to reveal a big-ass glittering skull ring on his middle finger, right next to his wedding band. Joementum will pucker up, tears of gratitude slowly meandering their way down his cheeks, and touch his crusty little lips to the cool metal.
And then the lights will come on.
The entire room will be bathed in fluorescent light, revealing the entire Democratic party, all with thick rulers in their hands – the type that used to be wielded by nuns and that still haunt the dreams of many a practicing Catholic or ex-Catholic. Chuck Schumer and Harry Reid will grab him by each arm, slam him down onto the nearest table, drop his Brooks Brothers trousers to reveal boxer-briefs with John McCain’s face and hearts on them, and they’ll all line up to take a swing, starting with Rahm Emanuel just because he wants to remind everyone what an ornery, rabid little fucker he is. He’ll scream with partisan rage while caning the shit out of Lieberman’s pruny little ass, and everyone will cringe – and then take their turn.
Lieberman can still stagger out of there with a slightly bruised ego and a torn-up set of asscheeks, and nobody will be any the wiser save for a couple of days of seeing Joe on CSPAN perched upon a hemorrhoid donut, bowing and scraping to the Democrats just like he did the McPalin campaign and the Republican Party for the past couple of years.
Or you guys can drop the fucker like a bad habit and let the chips fall where they may.
I’d prefer that, but if not, I’ll settle for cheap cellphone video of the scenario I just described. I promise that I won’t be too picky.
Seriously, guys, we voted you into office. Time to put up the dukes and get going.
November 04, 2008
Dear World,
We're sorry for being assholes and idiots for the past 8 years. Please take this president as an apology.
Yours truly,
America
November 03, 2008
You Have To Be Kidding.
No, seriously, this has to be a joke.
Actually, the entire Palin thing has to be a joke. A terrible, horrible act of depraved fuckery foisted upon people who make it a priority to pay attention to politics and the issues and reality. Why? Because a woman who could potentially end up in the presidential seat PROBABLY shouldn't glorify things like this, especially a song that prides itself on being low-class and somewhat nit-witted.
Don't get me wrong, I think the song works well for Sarah, but it's not fitting for anyone who aspires to a career in politics or plans on using common sense or logic in the near future.
If this entry comes off as hateful and condescending: Good. I'm sick to death of the people who would champion a song like this as emblematic of who they are having lots of political clout. I'm tired of hearing politicos pandering to the common folk by throwing all thought processes out the window. If this election doesn't give us an Obama presidency, I at least want it to be a referendum on politicians dumbing - nay, retarding - issues and their personalities down for the masses. I want it to show politicians that it's okay to talk to Americans like grown-ups. That there's nothing wrong with having a president that's smarter than you. All of the Joe Sixpack Hockeymom Lipstickpig bullshit needs to be jettisoned from our cultural landscape, because in the end it's just dragging us all down into a mire of dumbness that overcomes people like quicksand.
And Palin, to me, is a representation of that dumbness. She's an avowed anti-intellectual who never seems to connect her brain with her mouth, she's basically the antithesis of a feminist, and can't even seem to decide whether or not she wants to play homegrown country gal mom-type or big-time rabble-rousing politico. Every time she shows up with McCain, he's glaring around with a forced grin that makes him look like someone shat in his coffee and he's trying to play it off as cool. She trips over her words as often as he does, directly contradicts herself on multiple occasions, and seems to be dumbly skulking her way through our cultural landscape as if she were blindfolded. Even the likes of Nancy Pfotenhauer can't carry enough water to put out all the fires that she starts.
And people absolutely ADORE HER. Why? Because she reminds them of themselves. They see this perky, somewhat goofy housewife giving stump speeches and think "Wow, if I quit my job cashiering at Wal-Mart and finally got my GED, that could be me!"
Yeah, don't do that.
I can't wait until tomorrow.
October 23, 2008
Okay, here's a rundown about life, starting at 12:15 PM.
-Need to poop.
-This sandwich officially tastes like barf. I think it's the pesto aioli.
-CHUD is going to fucking fire me if I don't get this DVD review in by Saturday. I also have way too many movies in queue to watch. Between everything that I've DVRed and everything that people have given to me, I need to take a week off of work just to watch stuff.
-Work is boring. I already processed $13,000 worth of invoices, scheduled three meetings, and am debating over whether or not to go to the gym now for my lunch break or wait until 2:00.
- I wasted an hour on campus earlier today while getting my new ID badge for my hot, sexy, steaming promotion to Admin Specialist(dolla dolla bills, y'all) because the computer system went down faster than Jenna Haze during a porn shoot. Such great technology around this place.
- (Update, 12:50 PM) The toilet paper in this building makes me feel like I'm wiping my ass with a sun-scorched portion of Hollywood Boulevard - discarded syringes, broken glass, hipster douchebags, Walk of Stars, tourists, and transsexual hookers included.
-If the Republicans manage to steal this election, I'm going to strangle myself to death with my own bare hands. Sorry, but I can't bear to see Grandpa Simpson and Caribou Barbie taking the oath. Even though she's a woman, I get the faint impression that she hates women. And learning. Besides, anyone who openly promotes a constitutional ban on gay marriage should be hit in the head with a rake. Additionally, I can't wait until all this shit is over. I've chewed my fingernails down to the quick, can't stay away from political news for more than an hour without getting the shakes, and have a deep, lasting fear of voter fraud/intimidation/apathy on November 4th.
-The new TV On The Radio album is still bumpin' on my mp3 player. I try to get rid of it, and it comes back like a sexy venereal disease that may have been given to me by Prince during the best 30 seconds of my life.
-Rachel Maddow is pretty amazing. It was dope as fuck watching her practically cane Pat Buchanan's little wrinkled boiled ham-looking ass on her show last night after he howled about how unqualified Joe Biden was to be VP candidate. Between that and her backhanding that little neoconservative toad David Frum when he tried to make some sort of half-assed referendum WHILE ON HER SHOW about the tone of her show and the concept of mockery and humor in political discourse, I may have an unbearable crush on that woman. Even if she does prefer the vajeen.
-I vastly prefer Facebook to MySpace. Sorry, MySpace. It's not you, it's me. I think we just need to start seeing other people.
-I have an unhealthy obsession with the comments on Onion's AVClub blog. They're all retarded, and it's glorious.
-Still don't understand why my co-workers piss and moan about me reheating salmon and broccoli in the break room microwave while they get to bring in all kinds of stinking greasy junk from whatever fast-food chain they decide to patronize that day. It's just weird.
-I really need to stop dicking around and write more.
-I have had entirely too much coffee today. I feel like I've been mainlining Ritalin and could gnaw my way through my monitor right now. And is there nothing more depressing than decaffeinated coffee? Once you go decaf, the "everything is awesome and I rule" part of your life is officially over.
-I just realized that "Gnaw" backwards is "wang".
-Everything is awesome and I rule.
October 22, 2008
Confession
Confession time:
I haven't been to the gym consistently in about a month and a half.
I've been letting my diet slip horribly, even though I dropped ten pounds on a friend's diet plan (carb cycling rules). I still look like shit, and I'm wondering how much of that ten pounds was water weight. I look somewhat loutish and paunchy, and have lost strength. I can still deadlift 365 lb., it's just way harder. I can still squat 315 lb, but I can't pull it off of the rack and do reps with it like I could earlier this year.
I've just let myself slip, period, in quite a few ways.
I used to subscribe to Henry Rollins' idea that: "I believe that one defines oneself by reinvention. To not be like your parents. To not be like your friends. To be yourself."
Well, I've definitely reinvented myself - into a fairly unhealthy, weak-willed, and overweight person.
Today I walked to the store on my lunch break. I was disgusted with how I felt constantly slightly out of breath, even though I walk pretty fast. I stood under the sun in the burning heat and realized how long it had been since I threw myself completely into something to the point that I was a complete sweaty wreck by the time I was done.
I miss that.
So, it's time to fix some shit. I've got some thinking and planning to do, but I'm going to stick to it this time around. I need to stick to it.
I'll do a few physical things this week(mostly going to focus on getting my mind right), but next week is when the fun really starts. I'm going to restart Waterbury's Total Body Training, up the cardio, and clean up my diet...AND STICK TO IT. No more three cheat days in a row, no more justifying things by saying "Eh, I'll work it off later".
I need to prove to myself that I can do this. Again. I've got all I need upstairs, I just need to put that shit to use and stop making excuses.
October 14, 2008
DAVID FRUM MORE LIKE DAVID SCUM HUR HUR
Quick background to this rant: Diva and I finally broke down and got cable. What with the upcoming election and all, it’s just dumb to have your finger off of the pulse of politics regardless of which way you vote in the end. Plus it would give us a chance to talk about the issues together and just enjoy more time together…so all in all, I was sold.
We’ve both started paying more attention to MSNBC, specifically the likes of Keith Olbermann and Rachel Maddow. Sure, my two or three right-wing critics will chime in with a “HAR HAR UR WATCHIN THEM LIBRUL SHOWZ IDJIT”, and that’s fine. I can still sleep at night without having witnessed the bluster and bullshit of the likes of many right-wing pundits.
And, like I’ve said before, the right-wing just doesn’t seem to get humor or satire unless a nonwhite or a hippie is being killed, and even then…it’s not funny. But the fact remains is that, for the most part, irony, satire, and humor are pretty much lost on such a dour bunch.
Which David Frum proved last night when he went on the Rachel Maddow Show to, presumably, perform a reverse-Jon Stewart-on-Crossfire, but it ended up being a full-douchebag-backfire.
I’m going to get my bias out of the way – I’ve never liked Frum. He’s always come across as nothing less than a syncophantic little Chris Kattan-looking ass-kiss who, by way of being a speechwriter for and author in favor of Bush, has essentially penned rationalizations for some of the worst policy the United States has seen in years, the aftermath of most of which we are now seeing come home to roost.
So his appearance on Maddow’s show thinking that he had any sort of moral authority to be bullying her around and telling her how she should run her game struck me as a bit…ballsy.
Not like huge swinging balls, mind you. More like tiny, shriveled, impotent ones belonging to someone who’d want to bully a woman over her show.
But, she stuck it out, completely calm and rational, and stuck to her initial point while he danced around the question using moves that would put Mikhail Baryshnikov to shame. I just find it funny that the same party that's spent so much time over the past two terms shouting down any opposition or constructive discussion in favor of talking points, discrimination, inflammatory language, threats, and base insults suddenly wants to have an enlightened, rational, mature discourse on politics. It's laughable.
I think I’m going to be watching her for a while.
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