No, former President Bush, mistakes were not made. You do not get to go on Oprah and plead your case in a vain attempt to salvage your legacy of ineptitude, manipulation, jingoism, proud ignorance, flagrant abuse of American values, laws, and privilege, and abject failure on every conceivable level.
Allow me to explain. A mistake is when you forget your girlfriend's name during sex, possibly confusing her with your ex. It happens, you're human.
A big mistake is, say, calling out for your current wife while you're fucking your girlfriend. Yeah, you're pretty much a bastard on this one, but, with time, forgiveness is possible.
But no, Bush, yours was more akin to sodomizing the bullet-shredded corpse of a Marine using the widow's newborn as a condom, and then telling her not to make eye contact while you're wiping yourself off on her tits. At this point, it doesn't really matter if you remember her name, y'know?
If you had even a shred of human decency you'd spend the rest of your life doing everything in your power to unfuck the country that had to endure 8 years of your helmet-child buffoonery, not appearing on fucking Oprah to publicize your fucking ghost-written coloring-book-for-the-blind memoirs.
You're a monster, Bush, and no amount of jokey fraternizing and "Aw, shucks, I did bad" pandering will change it.
Tuesday, November 9, 2010
Wednesday, October 27, 2010
A response to a particularly clueless Christian in our community
There's a man in my community, one Stanley Jesik, who is Poe-like in his complete ignorance of the bible and his faith. His latest letter, published on Monday, holds the assertion that there is no violence or hate in the bible, and ends with the deranged proclamation that it's those anti-religionists who are ruining it for everyone else. Yeah, those damn atheists, what with their... what, 7% of the population? If that? Fuckin' twit.
Anyway, my response is as follows. Not sure if it will be printed as it's a bit on the long side, but that's what this blog is for. Enjoy.
"If I didn't know any better I'd swear Mr. Jesik was pulling our legs. There's no hate or violence in the bible? This is roughly akin to saying there's no sand in the desert, or water in the Atlantic. It's fractal wrongness; wrong on every conceivable level, and even levels beyond conception.
To start with, we have the story of Jesus. Ignoring the hideous idea that the blood sacrifice of an innocent is the only thing with which we can be "saved" from the great evil of... being born, we have his betrayal, torture, and execution, described in lurid, loving detail. And then Judas hangs himself. Jesus gets better; not so much for Judas.
And then we have gentle Jesus meek and mild's major contribution to culling thoughtcrime: hell. Because what better way to show how non-violent and non-hateful you are than threatening eternal torture for the sin of a differing opinion. Swell guy, Jesus.
How about Noah and his family? (Old testament, but mentioned several times in the new as having happened, so I'm counting it.) Yeah, great for them, what with the incest and all -- perhaps not violent, but ew all the same -- but I would ask how it turned out for every other being on the planet except for the lucky few who hitched a ride on the Ark. Oh, that's right, they were drowned for no reason other than god's lack of foresight. Apparently omniscience ain't all it's cracked up to be.
I'm just getting started. Matthew 5:17, "Think not that I am come to destroy the law, or the prophets: I am not come to destroy, but to fulfil." No problem whatsoever with the kill 'em all and let god sort 'em out philosophy of the old testament. Jesus saves!
Or how about Mark 6:11, in which Jesus explicitly says that anyone who ignores his teachings will suffer far worse than the denizens of Sodom and Gomorrah? This, clearly, is the wisdom of a benevolent man; "Open your arms to my followers or I will torture you."
And then there's Romans 1:31-1:32, in which it is said that homosexuals are "worthy of death;" and Colossians 1:20, in which god is positively giddy about the blood sacrifice of the cross; and, well, Revelations, all of it, which reads like a particularly pretentious snuff film. Nope, no violence or hate in there; having the whole of the earth set ablaze, and the survivors stabbed, mauled, starved and the like is A-OK according to Mr. Jesik.
One can draw several conclusions from Mr. Jesik's letter. Perhaps the most charitable is that he's simply naive, though that would seem to fly in the face of his chastising Mr. Lane for his "lack of knowledge." Another, less charitable interpretation is that Mr. Jesik is a Liar for Jesus; he knows it's all a sham, he knows it's revolting, and he must lie to make it seem more palatable both to himself and to the masses.
Or, perhaps even more disgustingly, he views violence against non-believers to be perfectly justified. And yet the atheists are the immoral monsters. It really makes one think -- well, those of us capable of thinking, anyway"
Anyway, my response is as follows. Not sure if it will be printed as it's a bit on the long side, but that's what this blog is for. Enjoy.
"If I didn't know any better I'd swear Mr. Jesik was pulling our legs. There's no hate or violence in the bible? This is roughly akin to saying there's no sand in the desert, or water in the Atlantic. It's fractal wrongness; wrong on every conceivable level, and even levels beyond conception.
To start with, we have the story of Jesus. Ignoring the hideous idea that the blood sacrifice of an innocent is the only thing with which we can be "saved" from the great evil of... being born, we have his betrayal, torture, and execution, described in lurid, loving detail. And then Judas hangs himself. Jesus gets better; not so much for Judas.
And then we have gentle Jesus meek and mild's major contribution to culling thoughtcrime: hell. Because what better way to show how non-violent and non-hateful you are than threatening eternal torture for the sin of a differing opinion. Swell guy, Jesus.
How about Noah and his family? (Old testament, but mentioned several times in the new as having happened, so I'm counting it.) Yeah, great for them, what with the incest and all -- perhaps not violent, but ew all the same -- but I would ask how it turned out for every other being on the planet except for the lucky few who hitched a ride on the Ark. Oh, that's right, they were drowned for no reason other than god's lack of foresight. Apparently omniscience ain't all it's cracked up to be.
I'm just getting started. Matthew 5:17, "Think not that I am come to destroy the law, or the prophets: I am not come to destroy, but to fulfil." No problem whatsoever with the kill 'em all and let god sort 'em out philosophy of the old testament. Jesus saves!
And then there's Romans 1:31-1:32, in which it is said that homosexuals are "worthy of death;" and Colossians 1:20, in which god is positively giddy about the blood sacrifice of the cross; and, well, Revelations, all of it, which reads like a particularly pretentious snuff film. Nope, no violence or hate in there; having the whole of the earth set ablaze, and the survivors stabbed, mauled, starved and the like is A-OK according to Mr. Jesik.
Or, perhaps even more disgustingly, he views violence against non-believers to be perfectly justified. And yet the atheists are the immoral monsters. It really makes one think -- well, those of us capable of thinking, anyway"
Tuesday, October 5, 2010
Your faith is stupid and wrong.
Today's entry: Transubstantiation: The process by which a magical pedophile transforms gullibility into profit.
We're starting off with an easy one, the Catholic belief that a charlatan in a dress has the ability to transmute a cracker and cheap wine into the literal body and blood of Christ, but you can't actually tell he's done anything because... accidents? No, seriously, it's built right into the dogma that you won't be able to detect that he's done fuck all, you just have to accept that he's not batshit insane.
Y'know, Newton was a genius, and his work on the force of gravity has immortalized him for all time, but you don't hear much about his obsession with alchemy beyond reinforcing that the man had some issues to go with his brilliance. It's the same principle, really; lead is not gold, crackers are not Jesus, and Catholics are not rational.
We're starting off with an easy one, the Catholic belief that a charlatan in a dress has the ability to transmute a cracker and cheap wine into the literal body and blood of Christ, but you can't actually tell he's done anything because... accidents? No, seriously, it's built right into the dogma that you won't be able to detect that he's done fuck all, you just have to accept that he's not batshit insane.
Y'know, Newton was a genius, and his work on the force of gravity has immortalized him for all time, but you don't hear much about his obsession with alchemy beyond reinforcing that the man had some issues to go with his brilliance. It's the same principle, really; lead is not gold, crackers are not Jesus, and Catholics are not rational.
Tuesday, September 28, 2010
See, I wouldn't mind being taxed for this.
It occurred to me that even if a Catholic church actually followed the example of Christ and spent all its revenue making the world a better place and blah blah blah, I would *still* have a problem with it being tax exempt on the grounds that their core message is still one of batshit-insane buffoonery. It doesn't matter to me how well meaning you are if you're operating under the assumption that worldly wrongs can be forgiven by being fed a cracker over which a man in a stupid dress waved his hand. That shit does not parse with reality, and I fear those who think it does.
However, let it never be said I am inflexible. I have hit upon a brilliant idea in which they'll be able to peddle their brain-rotting bilge on my dime, and I'll be able to sleep soundly at night.
My compromise? Catholic churches can continue to blight the scenery at the taxpayer's expense if they're willing to install gigantic, blinking signs with "X days since we fucked your children". And it'd be updated every time a new scandal came to light in which an anointed pederast spread his seed betwixt the nethers of his pint-sized parishioners. There could even be a betting pool - guess the day when a bishop chafes his charges and win a year's supply of crackers! - with the proceeds going towards, say, building a new abortion clinic, or a rape counseling center.
A reasonable request, methinks.
However, let it never be said I am inflexible. I have hit upon a brilliant idea in which they'll be able to peddle their brain-rotting bilge on my dime, and I'll be able to sleep soundly at night.
My compromise? Catholic churches can continue to blight the scenery at the taxpayer's expense if they're willing to install gigantic, blinking signs with "X days since we fucked your children". And it'd be updated every time a new scandal came to light in which an anointed pederast spread his seed betwixt the nethers of his pint-sized parishioners. There could even be a betting pool - guess the day when a bishop chafes his charges and win a year's supply of crackers! - with the proceeds going towards, say, building a new abortion clinic, or a rape counseling center.
A reasonable request, methinks.
Monday, September 27, 2010
On hope.
Today I have taken what I hope to be the last first step towards mental health. I am committed to staying with this therapy for as long as it takes, and I am willing to put in every effort necessary to ensure that I won't relapse into despair and self-mutilation.
I am tired of feeling like a bystander in my own life. I am tired of feeling anger towards that which I can't control, and dealing with it in self-destructive ways. I am tired of feeling mistrustful of those who want to help. I'm tired of living inside my head, away from the real world. I'm tired of being a failure. I'm tired of letting my family down. I'm tired of letting myself down.
Most of all, however, I am tired trying to drag everyone down instead of trying to raise myself up. Clownshoes cliche, I know, but I'm sick of the easy way out. I need help, and I'm getting it, regardless of what it takes.
I am tired of feeling like a bystander in my own life. I am tired of feeling anger towards that which I can't control, and dealing with it in self-destructive ways. I am tired of feeling mistrustful of those who want to help. I'm tired of living inside my head, away from the real world. I'm tired of being a failure. I'm tired of letting my family down. I'm tired of letting myself down.
Most of all, however, I am tired trying to drag everyone down instead of trying to raise myself up. Clownshoes cliche, I know, but I'm sick of the easy way out. I need help, and I'm getting it, regardless of what it takes.
Friday, September 24, 2010
On anger.
This is an ugly post, and I make no apologies for it. I am trying to keep a log of how I'm feeling day-to-day, and it does me no favors to lie.
I'm finding increasingly less joy in my life. That which used to buoy my spirits - my dogs, my family, video games, movies, etc. - are now little more than diversions from anger and frustration; hell, I'll call it what it is: rage.
Today I feel utterly worthless. I literally cannot stop shaking, and my insides feel clenched, like I'm bracing for a hit. I feel contemptuous and malicious, but have no target through which I can claim some sort of catharsis.
This isn't me talking; it's an illness. I *know* this, but on the worst days - like today - I would be lying to say that I find myself all that convincing. Were it not for the continued love and support of my family and friends, I would be a monster, of that I have no doubt.
I'm finding increasingly less joy in my life. That which used to buoy my spirits - my dogs, my family, video games, movies, etc. - are now little more than diversions from anger and frustration; hell, I'll call it what it is: rage.
Today I feel utterly worthless. I literally cannot stop shaking, and my insides feel clenched, like I'm bracing for a hit. I feel contemptuous and malicious, but have no target through which I can claim some sort of catharsis.
This isn't me talking; it's an illness. I *know* this, but on the worst days - like today - I would be lying to say that I find myself all that convincing. Were it not for the continued love and support of my family and friends, I would be a monster, of that I have no doubt.
Thursday, September 23, 2010
On depression, again
It's not that I don't "feel" like a normal person; I do. I feel what I can now identify as happiness, sadness, joy, love, hate, anger, etc.. For most of my life I couldn't, but thanks to a concerted effort over the past few years I've opened up somewhat and acknowledged that which makes us human, or at least not lungfish.
But even now, knowing what those emotions are and knowing when they're appropriate, I still have trouble connecting them with my demeanor; I don't express them with any ease. They feel distant, abstract. They're like objects in a fog; I know there's something there, but I can't tell what it is.
One of the major signs of depression is a feeling of joylessness; everything becomes rote, done out of necessity instead of pleasure. Life feels bland and gray. This has been my existence for much of my life. I don't mean to paint a bleak portrait; I've had a good life, with an incredibly loving, supportive family. But I view the highs of love and success as abnormal; breaks from the tedium, I suppose.
I have felt, and still at times do feel, suicidal. I know it's been called the coward's way out, but those who speak of it without knowing the relentless drudgery of worthlessness and shame can, frankly, go fuck themselves. It's but one of many answers to an open-ended question; "What's the point?"
I'm still looking for that point. I don't know if I'll ever find it, but I'm willing to hang in there for awhile yet. Maybe I can help people who, like me, feel out of place in a world that does not and cannot give a damn.
But even now, knowing what those emotions are and knowing when they're appropriate, I still have trouble connecting them with my demeanor; I don't express them with any ease. They feel distant, abstract. They're like objects in a fog; I know there's something there, but I can't tell what it is.
One of the major signs of depression is a feeling of joylessness; everything becomes rote, done out of necessity instead of pleasure. Life feels bland and gray. This has been my existence for much of my life. I don't mean to paint a bleak portrait; I've had a good life, with an incredibly loving, supportive family. But I view the highs of love and success as abnormal; breaks from the tedium, I suppose.
I have felt, and still at times do feel, suicidal. I know it's been called the coward's way out, but those who speak of it without knowing the relentless drudgery of worthlessness and shame can, frankly, go fuck themselves. It's but one of many answers to an open-ended question; "What's the point?"
I'm still looking for that point. I don't know if I'll ever find it, but I'm willing to hang in there for awhile yet. Maybe I can help people who, like me, feel out of place in a world that does not and cannot give a damn.
Wednesday, September 22, 2010
The uninteresting truth behind my complete lack of success with women
I'm an attractive, reasonably intelligent, well-spoken, honest, and, most obviously, tall man. I've been told these are desirable traits. Oddly enough, I don't date much. I'd go so far as to say I don't date at all. This puzzles some people. Well, ye shall puzzle no more!
You know how they say that until you love yourself you can't love another? Well, it's true. I don't love myself. I don't even *like* myself. I'm 25, unemployed, shy as hell, and I live in my parents' basement on what amounts to their charity. These are not the qualities required to ride the bullet train into the Love Canal.
As well, I am quite introverted; for the most part, I prefer being on my own. I find it physically and mentally draining to spend more than a day with someone in my "space," so to speak. It's never personal, I just grow weary of being vulnerable.
Vulnerable, you say? Oh yes. I have trust issues. Who doesn't, I know. I've spent much of my life fearing intimacy and convincing myself that I'm better off alone. I don't like being touched, still -- although I have gotten somewhat better about that in recent years.
To top it off, I have some serious problems with anger; I tend to bottle my emotions because I don't know how to properly deal with and express them. I've spoken before of the seeming disconnect between my "gut" and my "intellect," and I have yet to figure out how to reconcile the two. On the one hand I wish to lash out make others as miserable as I am, but I *know* that's not acceptable. As I've said before, I'll turn the dagger unto myself... somewhat literally. I figure it's better to take it out on myself than another.
So, what's all this add up to? Someone who's built walls to keep himself safe. I'm afraid of giving straight answers to honest questions; again, so as to not make myself vulnerable. And no, it's not an act, I really can't tell when someone's attempting to flirt with me.
Oh, and I have a lackluster penis, so I'm fucked even if I do find someone willing to put up with my bullshit.
You know how they say that until you love yourself you can't love another? Well, it's true. I don't love myself. I don't even *like* myself. I'm 25, unemployed, shy as hell, and I live in my parents' basement on what amounts to their charity. These are not the qualities required to ride the bullet train into the Love Canal.
As well, I am quite introverted; for the most part, I prefer being on my own. I find it physically and mentally draining to spend more than a day with someone in my "space," so to speak. It's never personal, I just grow weary of being vulnerable.
Vulnerable, you say? Oh yes. I have trust issues. Who doesn't, I know. I've spent much of my life fearing intimacy and convincing myself that I'm better off alone. I don't like being touched, still -- although I have gotten somewhat better about that in recent years.
To top it off, I have some serious problems with anger; I tend to bottle my emotions because I don't know how to properly deal with and express them. I've spoken before of the seeming disconnect between my "gut" and my "intellect," and I have yet to figure out how to reconcile the two. On the one hand I wish to lash out make others as miserable as I am, but I *know* that's not acceptable. As I've said before, I'll turn the dagger unto myself... somewhat literally. I figure it's better to take it out on myself than another.
So, what's all this add up to? Someone who's built walls to keep himself safe. I'm afraid of giving straight answers to honest questions; again, so as to not make myself vulnerable. And no, it's not an act, I really can't tell when someone's attempting to flirt with me.
Oh, and I have a lackluster penis, so I'm fucked even if I do find someone willing to put up with my bullshit.
Monday, September 20, 2010
American politics
I'm a Canadian, yet am all too familiar with the state of American politics today. I'm somewhat ashamed to say that I listen to more American news than Canadian, but I'll be honest, our neighbours are just way more fuckin' entertaining. I mean, Stephen Harper is a multi-faceted fuck-up, don't get me wrong, but his hair-helmet and robotic delivery are positively charming in the face of, say, Sarah Palin, a woman because of whom the discourse has been lowered into the earth's magma core. To hear that addle-minded twit prattle on about the lamestream media - a phrase the use of which should be punishable by death, as its proponent(s) are dangerously retarded - at a Tea Bagger rally, her butchery of the English language notwithstanding (those immigants don't even speak pretty!), is akin to having your firstborn child slowly crushed in an industrial press, its screams echoing across eternity like a feedback loop in the Grand Canyon.
... That was probably the worst and longest metaphor I've ever attempted. You have my apologies for having had to suffer through it.
It's amusing to me, too, to hear President Obama referred to as a socialist (and/or fascist, ignoring that they're mutually exclusive) when he's to the right of our whacko conservative PM. Seriously, you get a politician in Canada who bends over and says, "Hey, fuck your subsidzed medicare! We're privatizing healthcare!" and see how far it gets you come election season. (Sidenote: Who the fuck thinks it's a good idea to make healthcare for-profit? When it's in a company's best interests to let you suffer and die, you know your system is fucked.)
And then there's Fox News. Oh, Fox News. To paraphrase Jon Stewart, being the thinnest kid in fat camp is hardly an accomplishment over which you can gloat. When Bill O'Reilly is the voice of reason within your organization, it's perhaps time to kill yourselves. Publicly. I'd say it's like the crazies running the asylum, but I'm not that optimistic. Crazy people at least have internally consistent logic; people like Glenn Beck are to logic what Hitler was to race relations.
I love the United States. I really do. I'm not stupid enough to believe that its worst and most vocal representatives are somehow indicative of the majority; I know how the world works, more or less. The stupidest people tend to be the loudest 'cause it's all they have going for them. I get it. But sometimes, I wish that the "elite" would come out of their "ivory towers" and just say, in no uncertain terms, "SHUT THE FUCK UP." There's no shame in being impolite to those who are too inept to be reasoned with.
... That was probably the worst and longest metaphor I've ever attempted. You have my apologies for having had to suffer through it.
It's amusing to me, too, to hear President Obama referred to as a socialist (and/or fascist, ignoring that they're mutually exclusive) when he's to the right of our whacko conservative PM. Seriously, you get a politician in Canada who bends over and says, "Hey, fuck your subsidzed medicare! We're privatizing healthcare!" and see how far it gets you come election season. (Sidenote: Who the fuck thinks it's a good idea to make healthcare for-profit? When it's in a company's best interests to let you suffer and die, you know your system is fucked.)
And then there's Fox News. Oh, Fox News. To paraphrase Jon Stewart, being the thinnest kid in fat camp is hardly an accomplishment over which you can gloat. When Bill O'Reilly is the voice of reason within your organization, it's perhaps time to kill yourselves. Publicly. I'd say it's like the crazies running the asylum, but I'm not that optimistic. Crazy people at least have internally consistent logic; people like Glenn Beck are to logic what Hitler was to race relations.
I love the United States. I really do. I'm not stupid enough to believe that its worst and most vocal representatives are somehow indicative of the majority; I know how the world works, more or less. The stupidest people tend to be the loudest 'cause it's all they have going for them. I get it. But sometimes, I wish that the "elite" would come out of their "ivory towers" and just say, in no uncertain terms, "SHUT THE FUCK UP." There's no shame in being impolite to those who are too inept to be reasoned with.
Sunday, September 19, 2010
"Success."
I'm not sure what it says about me that I can't think of what a successful life means to me. For context, I've been asked several times lately if I have any goals, or some metric by which I can measure "success." I've not had an answer beyond the flippant; "Survive 'til 2012 when we're all fucked anyway" was one of the more recent responses.
This is the damnable part of depression. I can know that I've got certain standards which I long to live up to, and there are things I'd like to do with my life - travel, get involved with worthy charities, get involved with politics, and generally leave the world a better place than when I entered it - and yet on the emotional, "gut" level, I don't give a damn. I want everyone else to feel as empty as I do, cliche as that may sound. I feel anger, bordering on rage; I feel the need to hurt myself lest I take it out on others.
Again, though, that's the emotional level, if you will. Intellectually, I know it's wrong to hurt myself; I'm not an idiot. I know it's wrong to hurt others. I don't generally lash out in anger or frustration; for the most part, I'm as healthy and happy as the next guy.
It's weird to have seemingly two minds, each vying for supremacy and influence. I don't know enough about others to know whether this is how everyone feels, if perhaps this is why seemingly normal people can just "snap" and go postal.
So what does this have to do with success? Well, differing goals, really. I know what I want to do with my life, but I'm struggling to make myself care enough to go about *doing* it. I hate feeling like I have to trick myself into being productive instead of stewing in self-loathing.
And good god, "stewing in self-loathing." Who the fuck writes that? Assholes, that's who.
This is the damnable part of depression. I can know that I've got certain standards which I long to live up to, and there are things I'd like to do with my life - travel, get involved with worthy charities, get involved with politics, and generally leave the world a better place than when I entered it - and yet on the emotional, "gut" level, I don't give a damn. I want everyone else to feel as empty as I do, cliche as that may sound. I feel anger, bordering on rage; I feel the need to hurt myself lest I take it out on others.
Again, though, that's the emotional level, if you will. Intellectually, I know it's wrong to hurt myself; I'm not an idiot. I know it's wrong to hurt others. I don't generally lash out in anger or frustration; for the most part, I'm as healthy and happy as the next guy.
It's weird to have seemingly two minds, each vying for supremacy and influence. I don't know enough about others to know whether this is how everyone feels, if perhaps this is why seemingly normal people can just "snap" and go postal.
So what does this have to do with success? Well, differing goals, really. I know what I want to do with my life, but I'm struggling to make myself care enough to go about *doing* it. I hate feeling like I have to trick myself into being productive instead of stewing in self-loathing.
And good god, "stewing in self-loathing." Who the fuck writes that? Assholes, that's who.
Monday, September 13, 2010
Things that make me angry.
Racism, sexism, willful ignorance, an unwillingness to admit wrongdoing, decaf coffee in the morning, long lines at Starbucks, Ethernet cables, short people, intellectual laziness masquerading as "open-mindedness," child abuse, animal abuse, haughty vegetarians who don't realize that they only exist because of billions upon billions upon billions of deaths, pop music, Justin Bieber, tweens, rubberneckers, soy milk, the south, finicky bra straps, custom ringtones, cell phones, romantic comedies lacking in either romance or comedy, romantic comedies *with* romance/comedy, Jersey Shore, tweens again, "fashion," skinny pants, stupid haircuts, guys who aren't drag queens who wear makeup, girls who wear perfume, designer dogs that serve no purpose beyond annoying the fuck out of me, stupid people, people more concerned with being politically correct than actually getting shit done, politicians, Fox News, people who watch Fox News and don't realize it's a propaganda tool, soccer, cricket, tennis, golf, idiots who think what's done in the bedroom between consenting adults is any of their fucking business, people who think that they've any say in what's done with private property, slow drivers, bad drivers, tweens, backwards baseball hats, sideways baseball hats, cheap sunglasses, the French, Sarah Palin, musicals, diet Pepsi, pretension, massages, public nudity restrictions, PDAs, old people, young people, middle-aged people, babies, gun control, lack of gun control, Finding Nemo, Michael Buble, Michael Bolton, MySpace, Life is Beautiful, RTS games, sexual longing, sex in general, typos, dating, not dating, ricer cars, teen drivers, offensively inoffensive entertainment, Dane Cook, people who comment on Youtube videos, Youtube "celebrities," txting, sxting, teens, people who don't realize that fascism and communism are opposite ends of the political spectrum, hippies, people who use drugs, people who don't use drugs, Scientologists, religionists of all sorts, indie music, ska, country music, the country in general, hicks, rednecks, proud rednecks, goths, emo fuckhats, wankers, and everything else I forgot to mention.
Friday, September 10, 2010
On respectful disagreement
I respectfully disagree when my position is as valid as the contrary; ie. Australian Shepherds are the greatest dogs ever. This is not a matter for which I will fight; it's opinion, and you are free to your own.
However, as has been said by far smarter persons, you are not free to your own facts. Interpretation is open to the layman, of course, but when it runs perpendicular to experts in the field, you have to be prepared to accept the possibility that your position is based on a lack of understanding. When you are vehement and mendacious in your opposition, the respectful disagreement rapidly turns into character assassination and sniping as it's clear you are not one for reason.
I am, of course, only speaking for myself; I'd rather be honest about my disinclination to engage in calm, reasoned debate with frothing assholes for whom opinion and fact are interchangeable. I've no problem playing at that level; to be sure, it's vastly more entertaining, if not necessarily elucidating.
However, as has been said by far smarter persons, you are not free to your own facts. Interpretation is open to the layman, of course, but when it runs perpendicular to experts in the field, you have to be prepared to accept the possibility that your position is based on a lack of understanding. When you are vehement and mendacious in your opposition, the respectful disagreement rapidly turns into character assassination and sniping as it's clear you are not one for reason.
I am, of course, only speaking for myself; I'd rather be honest about my disinclination to engage in calm, reasoned debate with frothing assholes for whom opinion and fact are interchangeable. I've no problem playing at that level; to be sure, it's vastly more entertaining, if not necessarily elucidating.
Thursday, September 9, 2010
Random thoughts
When I see a video of someone getting hit by a train, my first reaction isn't one of sympathy or empathy, but of wonderment. Setting aside my contempt for the destructive idiocy of the masses, I am struck with genuine curiosity; "What kind of fucked up sperm-and-egg combo contributed to the stupid bastard who couldn't see coming a 100-tonne, loud-as-banshees-fucking monstrosity? Or worse, saw it coming and thought, hey, I can take that."
What kind of three-tailed, circle-swimming motherfucker of a baby-gravy tadpole could *possibly* have won out against its competitors? What set of circumstances, what kind of cosmic joke could allow someone to survive infinitely more dangerous situations - ie. eating, discovering electrical currents in the wall sockets, etc. - yet succumb to the man-made equivalent of a man-eating giant sloth? Seriously, fuck people who outrun trains, and then don't.
What kind of three-tailed, circle-swimming motherfucker of a baby-gravy tadpole could *possibly* have won out against its competitors? What set of circumstances, what kind of cosmic joke could allow someone to survive infinitely more dangerous situations - ie. eating, discovering electrical currents in the wall sockets, etc. - yet succumb to the man-made equivalent of a man-eating giant sloth? Seriously, fuck people who outrun trains, and then don't.
Thursday, August 26, 2010
Felt like posting, so blah.
There's this pervasive meme that infamous dictators such as Stalin - or, if one is particularly ignorant of history, Hitler - did their deeds in the name of "atheism." I've never quite understood this, as one does not typically act in accordance with their non-belief. It's roughly equivalent to saying the pope's disinclination to bring the abusive pedophiles in his flock to justice follows from his non-belief in Russel's teapot. In other words, no, the pope is an immoral bastard because he is... an immoral bastard; it has nothing to do with his faith, or lack thereof. Likewise, Stalin, who also had a bitchin' 'stache, but likely did not employ the use of gulags due to his hatred of shaving.
All that an atheist necessarily has in common with another atheist is his or her lack of belief in gods. That's all it means. It is a very specific term for a very specific subset of beliefs.
It occurred to me, however, that this line comes from the mind of a person who cannot separate their faith from their actions; they genuinely believe that all that's stopping them from committing murder, rape, theft, etc. is their belief in an afterlife. Their morals do not stem from community and rational thought, they stem from blind allegiance to the flock. I would submit that this is far more troubling than an atheist who admits that he is of the default position on godly matters and has trusted his reason to grant him a set of rules that, more or less, allows him to live relatively harmoniously with others. I suppose I would, though, given I'm not a disingenuous prat.
All that an atheist necessarily has in common with another atheist is his or her lack of belief in gods. That's all it means. It is a very specific term for a very specific subset of beliefs.
It occurred to me, however, that this line comes from the mind of a person who cannot separate their faith from their actions; they genuinely believe that all that's stopping them from committing murder, rape, theft, etc. is their belief in an afterlife. Their morals do not stem from community and rational thought, they stem from blind allegiance to the flock. I would submit that this is far more troubling than an atheist who admits that he is of the default position on godly matters and has trusted his reason to grant him a set of rules that, more or less, allows him to live relatively harmoniously with others. I suppose I would, though, given I'm not a disingenuous prat.
Friday, August 13, 2010
The latest letter to the editor that I can't submit under my real name
The recent landing of immigrants from Sri Lanka has sparked a public outcry; why should we be spending money on illegal immigrants when our own people continue to struggle through a recession? Why should we have to shoulder the burden of those who contribute nothing? Well, we already do it, although our politicians are too cowardly to admit it. Luckily, I've no intention of running for office and no problem with speaking my mind.
My suggestion? Tax the churches, tax the mosques, tax the synagogues - property tax and income tax, just like every other business. Refuse the continuation of separate, wasteful school boards when we've a perfectly good one for all comers. Let every pious parasite practice what he preaches and help those who can't help themselves. Support the country that has given you undeserved privilege and demand that the government take its due from Canada's largest untapped resource.
You want our economy to get back on its feet? Collect several billion dollars in one fell swoop and let the religions and the religious finally share in the joy of a modern, secular society. It's what Jesus would do, I'm sure.
My suggestion? Tax the churches, tax the mosques, tax the synagogues - property tax and income tax, just like every other business. Refuse the continuation of separate, wasteful school boards when we've a perfectly good one for all comers. Let every pious parasite practice what he preaches and help those who can't help themselves. Support the country that has given you undeserved privilege and demand that the government take its due from Canada's largest untapped resource.
You want our economy to get back on its feet? Collect several billion dollars in one fell swoop and let the religions and the religious finally share in the joy of a modern, secular society. It's what Jesus would do, I'm sure.
Monday, August 9, 2010
The world ended more than 5 years ago
I recently had a discussion - OK, hate-filled flamewar - with an individual from the United States; effectively, my "gay marriage is A-OK" went up against his "fuck human rights, this is America!", and a glorious time was had by all. Among the many, many stupid things he said, perhaps the funniest was "I've lived long enough to know that the erosion of marriage will preface the fall of our people." Something like that; I can't remember the exact quote, but basically the gist was that the overturning of CA's idiotic Proposition 8 will herald the death of America.
Now, a sane non-asshole will see no causal link between granting equal rights to gays and lesbians with the downfall of society. In fact, one would think that a great nation like the United States would be the first in line to recognize that all people are born equal and share equal rights. Well, maybe not in Texas; you have to be able to *read* before you can understand what the constitution actually says.
So what does this have to do with the world having already ended? Well, July 20, 2005, the day that Canada became the 4th country to officially recognize same-sex marriage, marked the turning point in our country's history, right, where it all just went to shit?
... Not quite. In fact, if I remember correctly, it received a fair bit of press, we saw some interviews with happy gays and lesbians, and then everything went back to normal. Better than normal, in fact, as it was basically a big ol' fuck you to the assholes who think their religion has any place in secular politics.
So what's my point in all this? I forget. I just wanted to gloat a bit.
Now, a sane non-asshole will see no causal link between granting equal rights to gays and lesbians with the downfall of society. In fact, one would think that a great nation like the United States would be the first in line to recognize that all people are born equal and share equal rights. Well, maybe not in Texas; you have to be able to *read* before you can understand what the constitution actually says.
So what does this have to do with the world having already ended? Well, July 20, 2005, the day that Canada became the 4th country to officially recognize same-sex marriage, marked the turning point in our country's history, right, where it all just went to shit?
... Not quite. In fact, if I remember correctly, it received a fair bit of press, we saw some interviews with happy gays and lesbians, and then everything went back to normal. Better than normal, in fact, as it was basically a big ol' fuck you to the assholes who think their religion has any place in secular politics.
So what's my point in all this? I forget. I just wanted to gloat a bit.
Monday, August 2, 2010
The 25 most badass movie shades of all time
Why? Because I can. Also, just read a list that was wrong on every conceivable level. Goddamn.
(Yes, this blog is for more than just me bitching about politics and religion. Sunglasses! For some reason!)
25 - Every movie that has ever featured a pair of Wayfarers. Because that while that shit is entirely played-out and I never want to see a pair ever again, they are, grudgingly, classics. Now fuck off and move on.
24 - Men in Black (Ray Ban Predator) - Will Smith's character said it best; "You know the difference between you and me? I make this look good."
23 - Terminator (Gargoyle ANSI Classics) - Surprisingly fashion-forward for an 80s action movie featuring the future-Governator, these can still be pulled off today, though whether that's a testament to classic status or history repeating itself, I can't say.
22 - Mission Impossible 2 (Oakley Romeo) - Back before I hit puberty I thought Oakley was the greatest thing ever, and with the Romeo being the top-of-the-line, these were the pinnacle of engineering and fashion and pure sexy superness. Now that my balls have left my abdomen, I prefer sunglasses that don't look like prizes from a box of Cheerios, but these still hold a nostalgic place in my heart. Bonus: They're bigger than Tom Cruise's face, which is endlessly amusing. It looks like his head's been attacked by a Geiger-esque rodent.
21 - Rock n' Rolla (Cazal 856) - I've said it before and I'll surely say it again, Cazal sunglasses seem to only ever be worn by drug users, drug dealers, or musicians. The character who wears them is a drug-addicted rock star. Hypotheses confirmed.
20 - Mr. and Mrs. Smith (Oliver Peoples Victory) - This movie, along with Burn Notice, have made the OP Victory (55mm lenses, not the more recent 58mm) one of the most sought-after and popular aviators of the past decade. Thanks, popular culture, for ensuring I have to pay out the ass to get a pair.
19 - Terminator 2 - (Persol 58230) - Speaking of popular culture making shit far too expensive, say hello to one of the most popular frames ever produced by the legendary Ratti factory in Italy. To be sure, you should have to pay a lot to look this good. Shame about the Liquid Cop breaking them, though.
18 - Collateral (Custom Silhouette) - Want to make a sociopathic hitman even scarier? Give him impenetrable black-lensed sunglasses that can be worn whenever eye contact would reveal too much. That they're one-offs made specifically for Cruise makes 'em that much cooler.
17 - Pitch Black (Riddick's goggles) - Contrary to popular belief, the goggles DO something, but only if you're a mass-murdering brick-person with anger issues.
16 - Zombieland - (ic! berlin Maja) - Yes, I know, they get about 3 seconds of screen time - according to the commentary, Woody wanted to wear them throughout but the director convinced him otherwise - but what an awesome 3 seconds. A perfect introduction to a character as badass as the shades he sports. And then discards. Oh well.
15 - The Thomas Crowne Affair (Persol 714 with custom blue lenses) - There's a reason Steve McQueen is considered a style icon even today: because his glasses kicked fucking ass. Worn both on-screen and off, the Persol 714s were considered his "trademark" shades, forever to be associated with the man for whom cool came effortlessly.
14 - Willy Wonka and the Chocolate Factory (Custom-crafted goggle... things) - Call me crazy, but I prefer Tim Burton's version, thanks in no small part to Johhny Depp's completely cracked-out portrayal of an intensely creepy man, Willy Wonka. His borderline contempt for the children, coupled with his outlandish wardrobe - including the goggle-shades to end all goggle-shades - ensure him a place on this list.
13 - The Matrix: Reloaded/Revolution (Smith's and Neo's customs by Blinde) - Yeah, the movies don't hold up all that well, but the shades do. Smith's are actually rather interesting, in that they're an edgier, more angular version of Neo's shades from the original. I think that's an attempt at subtext. Or supertext. Whatever, they're cool.
12 - The Matrix (Morpheus' pince nez by Blinde) - Likely the first time anyone in the audience - under the age of 30, anyway - had been exposed to a pince nez. What's that, a sunglass without arms? That's like a car with no wheels! Notable for making a large, intimidating man seem that much larger and intimidatier.
11 - Game of Death (Whatever it is non-Bruce wears) - The only reason non-Bruce wore these gigantic-ass shades was to hide the fact that looked nothing like the real Bruce Lee, who had died after filming all the fight scenes. Or, an alternate interpretation is that the sunglasses are meant to hold back Bruce Lee's true power, which is why he only ever takes them off to fight. I guess that's kinda badass.
10 - The Big Lebowski - (Ray Ban Shooter) - Omni-present sunglasses had better be badass, and luckily, these are. They make the already-unhinged Walter Sobchak seem that much closer to the brink; these were, after all, made popular in the early days of competitive shooting, and Walter is known for flashing his piece around the bowling alley.
9 - Iron Man (Oliver Peoples Corsair) - Another model with very little screen time, but damn, does it ever earn its place. Custom red lenses make the gold frames pop - and hint at the origin of the color scheme for Tony's suit - and the single-bridge aviator style ensures they look current, yet timeless. It's a tricky balancing act.
8 - Quantum of Solace (Oliver Peoples Airman) - I don't care if it's officially a Tom Ford product; the style's an *exact* copy of the Airman, hence, credit goes to Oliver Peoples. Anyway, this is another single-bridge aviator which, while unisex, looks perfect on Bond and gives him an air of both intrigue, with a hint of I-will-strand-your-ass-in-a-desert-if-you-kill-my-conquest.
7 - Scarface (Linda Farrow 6031) - OK, so they only appear in one scene, but damn if they don't make an impression. In an era, and movie, where conspicuous consumption was a virtue, these nearly sate Tony's inner glutton. The mountains of coke probably didn't hurt, either.
6 - Zoolander - (The whole freakin' movie) - You could probably do an entire feature on just this movie. But as I'm far too lazy for that, you get this recommendation to watch it for yourself. Enjoy.
5 - Ocean's Eleven (Oliver Peoples Whistle) - Y'know, I didn't understand the appeal of Sex and the City until a friend pointed out that my love of the Ocean's series is based on much the same thing: material lust. I would argue that there's also far less vapidity and that the Ocean's movies didn't set gender relations back 50 years, but that's just me. Oh, yeah, and the Whistle is Brad Pitt's frame of choice. Dude has taste.
4 - Fear and Loathing in Las Vegas (Ray Ban Shooter) - I know, they're already on this list. I don't care. They're awesome.
3 - Miami Vice (Robert Marc 710, Sama Slam) Dress to impress! And intimidate! These two styles are simple, but ooze class and superior workmanship. If only more designers would take their heads out of their asses and realize that you don't need flashy logos when you have a well-executed product.
2 - Casino (Ultra Goliath 2 and Cazal 951) - The two best pairs of many in the best mob movie ever made? Hell yes. Bonus: Cazal hypotheses confirmed yet again; they're worn by Lester Diamond, who is, among other things, a coke fiend.
1) Fight Club (OP-523, Sunset, and Aero 54) - The holy trinity of badass movie shades, all worn by the man that every dude in North America wants to be. Oliver Peoples, take a bow.
(Yes, this blog is for more than just me bitching about politics and religion. Sunglasses! For some reason!)
25 - Every movie that has ever featured a pair of Wayfarers. Because that while that shit is entirely played-out and I never want to see a pair ever again, they are, grudgingly, classics. Now fuck off and move on.
24 - Men in Black (Ray Ban Predator) - Will Smith's character said it best; "You know the difference between you and me? I make this look good."
23 - Terminator (Gargoyle ANSI Classics) - Surprisingly fashion-forward for an 80s action movie featuring the future-Governator, these can still be pulled off today, though whether that's a testament to classic status or history repeating itself, I can't say.
22 - Mission Impossible 2 (Oakley Romeo) - Back before I hit puberty I thought Oakley was the greatest thing ever, and with the Romeo being the top-of-the-line, these were the pinnacle of engineering and fashion and pure sexy superness. Now that my balls have left my abdomen, I prefer sunglasses that don't look like prizes from a box of Cheerios, but these still hold a nostalgic place in my heart. Bonus: They're bigger than Tom Cruise's face, which is endlessly amusing. It looks like his head's been attacked by a Geiger-esque rodent.
21 - Rock n' Rolla (Cazal 856) - I've said it before and I'll surely say it again, Cazal sunglasses seem to only ever be worn by drug users, drug dealers, or musicians. The character who wears them is a drug-addicted rock star. Hypotheses confirmed.
20 - Mr. and Mrs. Smith (Oliver Peoples Victory) - This movie, along with Burn Notice, have made the OP Victory (55mm lenses, not the more recent 58mm) one of the most sought-after and popular aviators of the past decade. Thanks, popular culture, for ensuring I have to pay out the ass to get a pair.
19 - Terminator 2 - (Persol 58230) - Speaking of popular culture making shit far too expensive, say hello to one of the most popular frames ever produced by the legendary Ratti factory in Italy. To be sure, you should have to pay a lot to look this good. Shame about the Liquid Cop breaking them, though.
18 - Collateral (Custom Silhouette) - Want to make a sociopathic hitman even scarier? Give him impenetrable black-lensed sunglasses that can be worn whenever eye contact would reveal too much. That they're one-offs made specifically for Cruise makes 'em that much cooler.
17 - Pitch Black (Riddick's goggles) - Contrary to popular belief, the goggles DO something, but only if you're a mass-murdering brick-person with anger issues.
16 - Zombieland - (ic! berlin Maja) - Yes, I know, they get about 3 seconds of screen time - according to the commentary, Woody wanted to wear them throughout but the director convinced him otherwise - but what an awesome 3 seconds. A perfect introduction to a character as badass as the shades he sports. And then discards. Oh well.
15 - The Thomas Crowne Affair (Persol 714 with custom blue lenses) - There's a reason Steve McQueen is considered a style icon even today: because his glasses kicked fucking ass. Worn both on-screen and off, the Persol 714s were considered his "trademark" shades, forever to be associated with the man for whom cool came effortlessly.
14 - Willy Wonka and the Chocolate Factory (Custom-crafted goggle... things) - Call me crazy, but I prefer Tim Burton's version, thanks in no small part to Johhny Depp's completely cracked-out portrayal of an intensely creepy man, Willy Wonka. His borderline contempt for the children, coupled with his outlandish wardrobe - including the goggle-shades to end all goggle-shades - ensure him a place on this list.
13 - The Matrix: Reloaded/Revolution (Smith's and Neo's customs by Blinde) - Yeah, the movies don't hold up all that well, but the shades do. Smith's are actually rather interesting, in that they're an edgier, more angular version of Neo's shades from the original. I think that's an attempt at subtext. Or supertext. Whatever, they're cool.
12 - The Matrix (Morpheus' pince nez by Blinde) - Likely the first time anyone in the audience - under the age of 30, anyway - had been exposed to a pince nez. What's that, a sunglass without arms? That's like a car with no wheels! Notable for making a large, intimidating man seem that much larger and intimidatier.
11 - Game of Death (Whatever it is non-Bruce wears) - The only reason non-Bruce wore these gigantic-ass shades was to hide the fact that looked nothing like the real Bruce Lee, who had died after filming all the fight scenes. Or, an alternate interpretation is that the sunglasses are meant to hold back Bruce Lee's true power, which is why he only ever takes them off to fight. I guess that's kinda badass.
10 - The Big Lebowski - (Ray Ban Shooter) - Omni-present sunglasses had better be badass, and luckily, these are. They make the already-unhinged Walter Sobchak seem that much closer to the brink; these were, after all, made popular in the early days of competitive shooting, and Walter is known for flashing his piece around the bowling alley.
9 - Iron Man (Oliver Peoples Corsair) - Another model with very little screen time, but damn, does it ever earn its place. Custom red lenses make the gold frames pop - and hint at the origin of the color scheme for Tony's suit - and the single-bridge aviator style ensures they look current, yet timeless. It's a tricky balancing act.
8 - Quantum of Solace (Oliver Peoples Airman) - I don't care if it's officially a Tom Ford product; the style's an *exact* copy of the Airman, hence, credit goes to Oliver Peoples. Anyway, this is another single-bridge aviator which, while unisex, looks perfect on Bond and gives him an air of both intrigue, with a hint of I-will-strand-your-ass-in-a-desert-if-you-kill-my-conquest.
7 - Scarface (Linda Farrow 6031) - OK, so they only appear in one scene, but damn if they don't make an impression. In an era, and movie, where conspicuous consumption was a virtue, these nearly sate Tony's inner glutton. The mountains of coke probably didn't hurt, either.
6 - Zoolander - (The whole freakin' movie) - You could probably do an entire feature on just this movie. But as I'm far too lazy for that, you get this recommendation to watch it for yourself. Enjoy.
5 - Ocean's Eleven (Oliver Peoples Whistle) - Y'know, I didn't understand the appeal of Sex and the City until a friend pointed out that my love of the Ocean's series is based on much the same thing: material lust. I would argue that there's also far less vapidity and that the Ocean's movies didn't set gender relations back 50 years, but that's just me. Oh, yeah, and the Whistle is Brad Pitt's frame of choice. Dude has taste.
4 - Fear and Loathing in Las Vegas (Ray Ban Shooter) - I know, they're already on this list. I don't care. They're awesome.
3 - Miami Vice (Robert Marc 710, Sama Slam) Dress to impress! And intimidate! These two styles are simple, but ooze class and superior workmanship. If only more designers would take their heads out of their asses and realize that you don't need flashy logos when you have a well-executed product.
2 - Casino (Ultra Goliath 2 and Cazal 951) - The two best pairs of many in the best mob movie ever made? Hell yes. Bonus: Cazal hypotheses confirmed yet again; they're worn by Lester Diamond, who is, among other things, a coke fiend.
1) Fight Club (OP-523, Sunset, and Aero 54) - The holy trinity of badass movie shades, all worn by the man that every dude in North America wants to be. Oliver Peoples, take a bow.
Saturday, July 31, 2010
I hate this shit
How is it that I can sleep, uninterrupted, for 12 hours and still feel like shit when I wake up? I don't like to think of myself as lazy, but fuck, why am I exhausted after sleeping for half a day? Of course, this just feeds into my lack of self-respect and esteem; only shiftless, lazy morons can't get a good night's sleep.
Yes, this is how my mind works. It's fun being damaged.
Also, there's something I want to address that's been bugging me for a week or so now. I've been told at various times that I have a rather misogynistic outlook; I make demeaning comments about women, sex, consent, etc.. It bothers me, as I don't believe myself to be one - most of my friends are female, and I generally think I treat them with as much respect as I do men - and I'm not intending to *be* demeaning, but I slip into it rather frequently, often without even noticing.
For example, on this blog I recently made the comment that girls who dress seductively and post pictures of it on their online dating profiles are asking to be objectified; I believe the exact term was "you come off as an all-you-can-eat buffet." It didn't even occur to me that this was anything beyond sound advice until I was taken to task by my sister-in-law's sister. Mind you, she was absolutely right to do so; I'm far from perfect and welcome the rebuke when it's warranted.
All I can do is attempt to be more sensitive about demeaning and degrading comments and realize that, as a man in a largely patriarchal society, I have to be more conscious about the damage that I can do with my words. You don't have to be a rapist to be a misogynistic ass, I guess.
Yes, this is how my mind works. It's fun being damaged.
Also, there's something I want to address that's been bugging me for a week or so now. I've been told at various times that I have a rather misogynistic outlook; I make demeaning comments about women, sex, consent, etc.. It bothers me, as I don't believe myself to be one - most of my friends are female, and I generally think I treat them with as much respect as I do men - and I'm not intending to *be* demeaning, but I slip into it rather frequently, often without even noticing.
For example, on this blog I recently made the comment that girls who dress seductively and post pictures of it on their online dating profiles are asking to be objectified; I believe the exact term was "you come off as an all-you-can-eat buffet." It didn't even occur to me that this was anything beyond sound advice until I was taken to task by my sister-in-law's sister. Mind you, she was absolutely right to do so; I'm far from perfect and welcome the rebuke when it's warranted.
All I can do is attempt to be more sensitive about demeaning and degrading comments and realize that, as a man in a largely patriarchal society, I have to be more conscious about the damage that I can do with my words. You don't have to be a rapist to be a misogynistic ass, I guess.
Thursday, July 29, 2010
An experiment
At the urging of my parents I've decided to keep a running log, or diary, of my mental state on a day-to-day basis, in the hopes of being better able to track my progress and regress. I'm not sure how long I'll keep this up for, but I figure it's worth trying.
I woke up today at 8:30 or so as my dad was leaving for work. I got up, let the dog out, and promptly fell back asleep until 1. I went upstairs, made coffee, and fell asleep on the couch for another hour. Note that I still felt exhausted afterwards, but hey, at least there was coffee now.
I went down to my room and ate breakfast over the next hour while reading various blogs, watching videos on Youtube, etc.. I remember feeling dazed, like I had lost the capacity for emotion and affect. It's like looking at the world through a fogged window.
I watched a couple episodes of The Shield, continuing until my father got home around 4. We talked for a bit, then we both went upstairs to make dinner. My mother noticed that I "wasn't myself," and the three of us talked for close to an hour about what I need to do to get feeling better.
I feel as though my life is not only not going anywhere, but that it's going to get gradually worse until I lash out at someone else or I turn my anger completely inward and destroy myself.
It's an awful feeling to be simultaneously powerless and furious. I have so much hatred and self-loathing inside of me and no healthy way of coping with it.
I woke up today at 8:30 or so as my dad was leaving for work. I got up, let the dog out, and promptly fell back asleep until 1. I went upstairs, made coffee, and fell asleep on the couch for another hour. Note that I still felt exhausted afterwards, but hey, at least there was coffee now.
I went down to my room and ate breakfast over the next hour while reading various blogs, watching videos on Youtube, etc.. I remember feeling dazed, like I had lost the capacity for emotion and affect. It's like looking at the world through a fogged window.
I watched a couple episodes of The Shield, continuing until my father got home around 4. We talked for a bit, then we both went upstairs to make dinner. My mother noticed that I "wasn't myself," and the three of us talked for close to an hour about what I need to do to get feeling better.
I feel as though my life is not only not going anywhere, but that it's going to get gradually worse until I lash out at someone else or I turn my anger completely inward and destroy myself.
It's an awful feeling to be simultaneously powerless and furious. I have so much hatred and self-loathing inside of me and no healthy way of coping with it.
Friday, July 23, 2010
This is why my skin burns when exposed to holy water
I submitted this as a letter to the editor in the St. Catharines Standard. It remains to be seen if they've the balls to print it, but fuck it, I liked it.
"I was driving with my dad the other day and passed a church with the seemingly innocuous pronouncement that "Salvation is not achieved, but received." I can think of no stronger condemnation for religious thought than this flatly immoral prospect. In one fell swoop the folly of religion is lain clear; your worth is determined by your credulity and not your action. No wonder, then, that the happiest atrocities are carried out by the "godly."
Even if your god does exist - and I submit that the case has never been made - he would still be a petty tyrant worthy of naught but scorn and derision. Our greatness as a species stems from cooperation and community; let us move beyond the artificial barriers of religion once and for all. Our survival depends on it."
"I was driving with my dad the other day and passed a church with the seemingly innocuous pronouncement that "Salvation is not achieved, but received." I can think of no stronger condemnation for religious thought than this flatly immoral prospect. In one fell swoop the folly of religion is lain clear; your worth is determined by your credulity and not your action. No wonder, then, that the happiest atrocities are carried out by the "godly."
Even if your god does exist - and I submit that the case has never been made - he would still be a petty tyrant worthy of naught but scorn and derision. Our greatness as a species stems from cooperation and community; let us move beyond the artificial barriers of religion once and for all. Our survival depends on it."
Wednesday, July 21, 2010
Online Dating 101
Plenty of Fish, the world's largest free dating site, is, to be blunt, fucking funny. For every well-written profile featuring the interesting factoids so vital in sparking a flame there's at least 100 that read like the not-quite-there drafts of a thousand monkeys at a thousand typewriters attempting to recreate the entire works of Hustler. It's ridiculous to think that one shall find a potential mate, someone to have, cherish, and hold, 'til death, etc., when your profile is written in alternating caps and txt spk. It's like running for president and having all your ads performed by Famous People Players; it doesn't inspire confidence.
Now, far be it from me to give advice on actual dating; that shit's so far beyond my ken that I view it as more a sociological experiment - hypotheses: girls are fickle and impossible to please - than a serious shot at making that one connection that makes all the others shitty in comparison.
No, my advice only goes so far as the profile. So, for all you losers in love who, like me, have turned to the last bastion of the lonely and listless for lethario scenarios, here are some helpful hints separated by gender.
Men
1) Shirtless pictures are an instant turn-off for the opposite sex. Why? Because you're trying to make a good first impression; telling the world that all you have going for you is your cheese-grater abs means you're a dunderfuck who couldn't carry a conversation in a bucket. Cut it out.
2) Pictures taken in front of expensive vehicles, pictures featuring you flipping gang signs, pictures in which you're drunk or high, pictures in which you're surrounded by women, etc., speak to insecurity. You want your personality to shine through in everything you put in your profile; such things as those listed make you look like an asshole.
3) No, seriously, no fucking gang signs. And un-pop your fucking collar, you collossal bag of douche.
4) Take some time to write an interesting profile. Don't just write "there's too much to list, so just message me if you're interested." Interested in what? Sell yourself. Like a whore. Exactly like a whore.
5) And for fuck's sake, if your preview has more squiggly red lines than Cthulhu on his period, don't even try to date. Stay far away from dating. And breeding.
Women
1) Yes, we know you don't want a one-night stand. That's what Lavalife is for. But drop the ambiguity by making sure your photos don't make you look like an all-you-can-eat buffet.
2) The eyes are the window to the soul. Or would be if we had souls. We don't, so don't tell us that god is #1 in your life. That's about the biggest turn-off imaginable; it says you're boring, you'll wake us up early on Sundays, and your dad owns a shotgun. We fear shotguns a lot more than god.
3) If under body type you put "prefer not to say," it means you're fat. You're not fooling anyone, and frankly, there are more dudes out there who like it than not, at least if they're being honest.
4) As with the men, put *some* effort into writing an interesting profile. If you won't spend the time to make yourself stand out, why the fuck should *we* spend the time to dig it out of you?
5) Nothing is less attractive than children. Photoshop them out of everything and hide them in the attic for the first year of dating. After that he's legally fucked anyway, so you've got nothing to lose.
There, I hope I've done my part to make the Internet a happier, healthier, more-fuckable place.
Now, far be it from me to give advice on actual dating; that shit's so far beyond my ken that I view it as more a sociological experiment - hypotheses: girls are fickle and impossible to please - than a serious shot at making that one connection that makes all the others shitty in comparison.
No, my advice only goes so far as the profile. So, for all you losers in love who, like me, have turned to the last bastion of the lonely and listless for lethario scenarios, here are some helpful hints separated by gender.
Men
1) Shirtless pictures are an instant turn-off for the opposite sex. Why? Because you're trying to make a good first impression; telling the world that all you have going for you is your cheese-grater abs means you're a dunderfuck who couldn't carry a conversation in a bucket. Cut it out.
2) Pictures taken in front of expensive vehicles, pictures featuring you flipping gang signs, pictures in which you're drunk or high, pictures in which you're surrounded by women, etc., speak to insecurity. You want your personality to shine through in everything you put in your profile; such things as those listed make you look like an asshole.
3) No, seriously, no fucking gang signs. And un-pop your fucking collar, you collossal bag of douche.
4) Take some time to write an interesting profile. Don't just write "there's too much to list, so just message me if you're interested." Interested in what? Sell yourself. Like a whore. Exactly like a whore.
5) And for fuck's sake, if your preview has more squiggly red lines than Cthulhu on his period, don't even try to date. Stay far away from dating. And breeding.
Women
1) Yes, we know you don't want a one-night stand. That's what Lavalife is for. But drop the ambiguity by making sure your photos don't make you look like an all-you-can-eat buffet.
2) The eyes are the window to the soul. Or would be if we had souls. We don't, so don't tell us that god is #1 in your life. That's about the biggest turn-off imaginable; it says you're boring, you'll wake us up early on Sundays, and your dad owns a shotgun. We fear shotguns a lot more than god.
3) If under body type you put "prefer not to say," it means you're fat. You're not fooling anyone, and frankly, there are more dudes out there who like it than not, at least if they're being honest.
4) As with the men, put *some* effort into writing an interesting profile. If you won't spend the time to make yourself stand out, why the fuck should *we* spend the time to dig it out of you?
5) Nothing is less attractive than children. Photoshop them out of everything and hide them in the attic for the first year of dating. After that he's legally fucked anyway, so you've got nothing to lose.
There, I hope I've done my part to make the Internet a happier, healthier, more-fuckable place.
Sunday, July 11, 2010
An explanation of sorts for yesterday's post
This summary is not available. Please
click here to view the post.
Saturday, July 10, 2010
My new dating profile
This is what happens when spam bots try to get me to join their dating sites.
What are you here for?
I'm here to set the world on fire, by which I mean I'm a dangerous pyromaniac.
Describe yourself:
I'm tall, pasty, and somewhat good-looking from most angles. I blame my Irish heritage for the glow-in-the-dark whiteness and the unfortunate facial characteristics on fetal alcohol syndrome.
What I am looking for:
Someone who doesn't irk me. You can contribute to the cause by: not typing like you're texting your "bestie," showing at least a basic grasp of the English language (I'm no expert and I do make mistakes, but c'mon, unless you're one of those flipper-handed folk you have no excuse for writing like a retard), having something to talk about beyond Twilight or Sex in the City 2: Rich, Racist Bitches in Dubai, etc.. If this is too much to ask, do us both a favor and go away.
If this doesn't get me women, nothing will.
What are you here for?
I'm here to set the world on fire, by which I mean I'm a dangerous pyromaniac.
Describe yourself:
I'm tall, pasty, and somewhat good-looking from most angles. I blame my Irish heritage for the glow-in-the-dark whiteness and the unfortunate facial characteristics on fetal alcohol syndrome.
What I am looking for:
Someone who doesn't irk me. You can contribute to the cause by: not typing like you're texting your "bestie," showing at least a basic grasp of the English language (I'm no expert and I do make mistakes, but c'mon, unless you're one of those flipper-handed folk you have no excuse for writing like a retard), having something to talk about beyond Twilight or Sex in the City 2: Rich, Racist Bitches in Dubai, etc.. If this is too much to ask, do us both a favor and go away.
If this doesn't get me women, nothing will.
Friday, June 11, 2010
Call me an asshole...
But when your dating profile includes the words "baby daddy," "sugar daddy," or "gold diggah," spelt with an obnoxious blend of uppercase and lowercase letters, you are clearly not dating material. You are not even friend material. You are branding yourself as a cum depository. Knock that shit off.
Yes, I've taken the plunge at www.plentyoffish.com, trying to get my sea legs back, so to speak. I know what I'm missing now that I'm willing to acknowledge how lonely I am, and I think I have a fair bit to offer, overwhelming assholery notwithstanding. I'm confident for the first time in possibly ever that I can handle the ebb and flow of an adult relationship; no mean feat given my past reluctance to open up to anyone, let alone a significant other.
It's a good feeling.
Yes, I've taken the plunge at www.plentyoffish.com, trying to get my sea legs back, so to speak. I know what I'm missing now that I'm willing to acknowledge how lonely I am, and I think I have a fair bit to offer, overwhelming assholery notwithstanding. I'm confident for the first time in possibly ever that I can handle the ebb and flow of an adult relationship; no mean feat given my past reluctance to open up to anyone, let alone a significant other.
It's a good feeling.
Wednesday, June 9, 2010
Pet peeve
I like ninjas. I like action flicks. I unapologetically like bad movies. My brother called Ninja Assassin the best bad movie he's seen in years, and I'm inclined to agree.
I mean, this flick has everything: swords, ninjas, awesome fights, and over-the-top, CGI enhanced blood effects. It's spectacularly stupid, but decently-acted and choreographed, and shows a surprising attention to detail when it comes to shot-to-shot continuity. (Lots of action movies don't, and it can be annoying when it's glaring, like in Gladiator when Maximus does the double-sword decapitation and the shots are constantly flipped so his left hand and right hand are reversed. Seriously, watch that scene again and tell me it doesn't take you out of the flick to see such blatant discontinuity.)
So what's got my dander up? The fucking money shot, that's what.
You know what I'm talking about; all action movies have that scene where the hero not only beats the villain, but fucking destroys him with some creative deathblow. In Heat, Waingro gets Mozambiqued by Neil after he gets the shit pistol-whipped out of him; Miami Vice has one main villain get a fist-sized chest wound courtesy of a 40mm shotgun shell blast while the other gets shot in the head, twice; the aforementioned Gladiator has Commodus stabbed in the throat with his own dagger; and the list goes on.
So, right, Ninja Assassin: After a pretty cool fight scene, the hero, Raizo, after having the shit slashed out of him for five minutes, finally gets the upper hand against the Big Bad, and proceeds to slash his arm off, slash his achilles tendon, the works. Raizo approaches the wounded, kneeling baddie from behind with his blood-splattered sword at the ready, he performs a cool little flip and stabs the blade into his opponent's shoulder, burying it all the way to the hilt. I'm thinking, awesome! Pretty cool way to dispatch the dude. But it gets BETTER! After the dude fountains gore for a few seconds, Raizo grips the sword with his other hand and proceeds to rip it out from right-to-left, effectively cutting the baddie in half. Awesome!
And then... it all goes to shit. Cut to an overhead shot of the two opponents, the baddie's severed arm still clutching his sword, and not only has the villain's clothing not been even remotely inconvenienced, but there's NO FUCKING BLOOD COMING OUT OF WHAT SHOULD HAVE BEEN A GAPING WOUND.
Let me put this into perspective: I said earlier that the movie was pretty damn good with shot-to-shot continuity, such that when Raizo gets slashed in a fight, his clothing gets cut along with him and stays cut until a warddrobe change. For the entire movie they got it noticeably right, and then at the fucking climax, they completely and utterly blow their wad.
Put it this way, it would be like fucking Highlander ending with "THERE CAN BE ONLY ONE," decapitation, and then next week fucking McCloud has tea with the Kurgan because his head is still attached to his fucking shoulders. Goddamn this shit annoys me.
I mean, this flick has everything: swords, ninjas, awesome fights, and over-the-top, CGI enhanced blood effects. It's spectacularly stupid, but decently-acted and choreographed, and shows a surprising attention to detail when it comes to shot-to-shot continuity. (Lots of action movies don't, and it can be annoying when it's glaring, like in Gladiator when Maximus does the double-sword decapitation and the shots are constantly flipped so his left hand and right hand are reversed. Seriously, watch that scene again and tell me it doesn't take you out of the flick to see such blatant discontinuity.)
So what's got my dander up? The fucking money shot, that's what.
You know what I'm talking about; all action movies have that scene where the hero not only beats the villain, but fucking destroys him with some creative deathblow. In Heat, Waingro gets Mozambiqued by Neil after he gets the shit pistol-whipped out of him; Miami Vice has one main villain get a fist-sized chest wound courtesy of a 40mm shotgun shell blast while the other gets shot in the head, twice; the aforementioned Gladiator has Commodus stabbed in the throat with his own dagger; and the list goes on.
So, right, Ninja Assassin: After a pretty cool fight scene, the hero, Raizo, after having the shit slashed out of him for five minutes, finally gets the upper hand against the Big Bad, and proceeds to slash his arm off, slash his achilles tendon, the works. Raizo approaches the wounded, kneeling baddie from behind with his blood-splattered sword at the ready, he performs a cool little flip and stabs the blade into his opponent's shoulder, burying it all the way to the hilt. I'm thinking, awesome! Pretty cool way to dispatch the dude. But it gets BETTER! After the dude fountains gore for a few seconds, Raizo grips the sword with his other hand and proceeds to rip it out from right-to-left, effectively cutting the baddie in half. Awesome!
And then... it all goes to shit. Cut to an overhead shot of the two opponents, the baddie's severed arm still clutching his sword, and not only has the villain's clothing not been even remotely inconvenienced, but there's NO FUCKING BLOOD COMING OUT OF WHAT SHOULD HAVE BEEN A GAPING WOUND.
Let me put this into perspective: I said earlier that the movie was pretty damn good with shot-to-shot continuity, such that when Raizo gets slashed in a fight, his clothing gets cut along with him and stays cut until a warddrobe change. For the entire movie they got it noticeably right, and then at the fucking climax, they completely and utterly blow their wad.
Put it this way, it would be like fucking Highlander ending with "THERE CAN BE ONLY ONE," decapitation, and then next week fucking McCloud has tea with the Kurgan because his head is still attached to his fucking shoulders. Goddamn this shit annoys me.
Wednesday, June 2, 2010
Freedom of speech for dummies
Critical thought is dead, having been succeeded by parroted soundbites from manipulative scumbags.
Case in point: The repealing of Don't Ask, Don't Tell has been met with criticism from the right - of course; progress is the enemy of conservative ideals - with demagogues harping on such absurdities as gays not being fit for combat, or that open homosexuality will somehow "convert" the straight men, turning the armed forces into a free-for-all sausage fest.
The argument, ridiculous on its face, is based on a complete lack of understanding of damn near everything. It's effectively making my argument for me; exposure to *anything* will undermine an individual's ability to discern. It's akin to saying that a vegetarian will see a cow and think, mmm, my life could certainly use more cheeseburgers.
Perhaps the most telling critique is the notion that one's freedom to be a hateful bigot is sacrosanct, ergo, GTFO FAGGOTS. Freedom of speech pertains to the capacity for holding and espousing beliefs, but it does not free you from the consequences of being an asshole. You don't get to hold everyone else down because it makes you uncomfortable. The sooner the idiots realize this, the better.
Case in point: The repealing of Don't Ask, Don't Tell has been met with criticism from the right - of course; progress is the enemy of conservative ideals - with demagogues harping on such absurdities as gays not being fit for combat, or that open homosexuality will somehow "convert" the straight men, turning the armed forces into a free-for-all sausage fest.
The argument, ridiculous on its face, is based on a complete lack of understanding of damn near everything. It's effectively making my argument for me; exposure to *anything* will undermine an individual's ability to discern. It's akin to saying that a vegetarian will see a cow and think, mmm, my life could certainly use more cheeseburgers.
Perhaps the most telling critique is the notion that one's freedom to be a hateful bigot is sacrosanct, ergo, GTFO FAGGOTS. Freedom of speech pertains to the capacity for holding and espousing beliefs, but it does not free you from the consequences of being an asshole. You don't get to hold everyone else down because it makes you uncomfortable. The sooner the idiots realize this, the better.
Tuesday, May 11, 2010
Frustrated rambling. Huzzah!
It should be considered no less than a national embarrassment that Canada's largely secular nature is undermined so surely by our recognizing "god" as the source of our rights and freedoms. I never thought I'd say it, but the USA really does have our asses kicked on this one.
Kinda apropos of nothing, but I struggle with how best to articulate the message, to do my part, so to speak, that down the road of faith and deference to the imaginary lies... damnation. Poor choice of word, perhaps, but I can't see how faith can be reconciled with knowledge, given its antithetical nature.
My part... I want to find a proper channel for my anger, to make the sort of positive difference I know I'm capable of, to do my small part in getting my fellow countrymen to embrace education and lessen the impact of religiosity. I know that "my" way is better, but how to reason people out of positions which they did not come to by it? I don't know.
Kinda apropos of nothing, but I struggle with how best to articulate the message, to do my part, so to speak, that down the road of faith and deference to the imaginary lies... damnation. Poor choice of word, perhaps, but I can't see how faith can be reconciled with knowledge, given its antithetical nature.
My part... I want to find a proper channel for my anger, to make the sort of positive difference I know I'm capable of, to do my small part in getting my fellow countrymen to embrace education and lessen the impact of religiosity. I know that "my" way is better, but how to reason people out of positions which they did not come to by it? I don't know.
Monday, April 19, 2010
Aggressive atheism
I've been asked numerous times why I feel the need to be so in-your-face about my lack of belief and my contempt for religion. To analogize, I offer this: You have a kid. He comes to you with his homework and you see he's written 2+2=5. You gently explain that he's wrong, and tell him why. He refuses to listen. So you, being the doting parent, decide not to hurt his feelings, and you patronizingly tell him it's OK to do whatever feels good, fuck the evidence being against him. You feel it's a phase that he'll grow out of.
However, he's still writing it as an adult. You've long since realized that he's just fuckin' stupid. But he's president now, and a mean sonofabitch at that. And it doesn't matter that he can't do math, 'cause the majority can't either.
Well, we've been patronizing for the past 2 millenia. We're well into are-you-fucking-stupid phase. Next step is to round 'em up and put 'em in a home with sippy cups and corked forks.
Yes, my analogies need work.
However, he's still writing it as an adult. You've long since realized that he's just fuckin' stupid. But he's president now, and a mean sonofabitch at that. And it doesn't matter that he can't do math, 'cause the majority can't either.
Well, we've been patronizing for the past 2 millenia. We're well into are-you-fucking-stupid phase. Next step is to round 'em up and put 'em in a home with sippy cups and corked forks.
Yes, my analogies need work.
Monday, April 5, 2010
Of Justin Bieber and crazy pills
I saw The Bieb on the View the other day. (Shut up, I was at the doctor's.) He combined the stage presence of a microphone stand with the lyrical grace of Randy Savage rapping about Slim Jims. The tweenaged jailbait in the audience fawned like the destined-for-failure-or-prostitution social blunders that they are. The entire show was like an informercial for the necessity of blowjobs. Good god I hated that simpering pseudo-shit.
Which leads me to something entirely unrelated: Zoloft like a motherfucker. It's nice to feel human again, although it's up for debate just what that means for me. I'm still the same old surly git I ever was, but at least I'm comfortable with it now. Nothing's worse than going through life with your own brain telling you you're going to be a fuckin' letdown, or worse, that you already are. It's difficult to describe chronic depression to someone who hasn't had to deal with it, but the best I can relate it is like you're constantly fighting against your mind; it's telling you to give up, go back to sleep, to stop trying, etc., and you're doing everything you can to ignore it. Some days it's a little too convincing, others it's so much background noise, but it's always there.
Which leads me to something entirely unrelated: Zoloft like a motherfucker. It's nice to feel human again, although it's up for debate just what that means for me. I'm still the same old surly git I ever was, but at least I'm comfortable with it now. Nothing's worse than going through life with your own brain telling you you're going to be a fuckin' letdown, or worse, that you already are. It's difficult to describe chronic depression to someone who hasn't had to deal with it, but the best I can relate it is like you're constantly fighting against your mind; it's telling you to give up, go back to sleep, to stop trying, etc., and you're doing everything you can to ignore it. Some days it's a little too convincing, others it's so much background noise, but it's always there.
Thursday, April 1, 2010
Catholics are morally bankrupt
So now it appears as though Pope Palpatine has covered up numerous sex scandals and has effectively made his career on shuffling the pedophiles around the country whenever they've given communion of the cock.
Now, I ask you, Catholics, if the pope is god's mouthpiece and some sort of authority for your faith, do you agree with his decisions? And if so, by what metric can you *ever* demand any sort of respect? And furthermore, what kind of motherfucker of a god do you think you're worshiping? Have some fucking standards or you're no better than the pedophiles he's sheltered.
That said, I don't want the prick to resign. I want him to stand as the monument to ignorance, hypocrisy, and social dischord that befits the RCC. Lead by example, you shining fuckhat.
Now, I ask you, Catholics, if the pope is god's mouthpiece and some sort of authority for your faith, do you agree with his decisions? And if so, by what metric can you *ever* demand any sort of respect? And furthermore, what kind of motherfucker of a god do you think you're worshiping? Have some fucking standards or you're no better than the pedophiles he's sheltered.
That said, I don't want the prick to resign. I want him to stand as the monument to ignorance, hypocrisy, and social dischord that befits the RCC. Lead by example, you shining fuckhat.
Wednesday, March 31, 2010
I've been asked what I gain from my atheism, typically from well-meaning folk who nonetheless cannot grasp the idea of an existence removed from god, or whatever they call "him."
Honestly speaking, I gain everything and nothing; by carrying with it absolutely no baggage I gain freedom. My mistakes are my own, my triumphs are my own, and my life has *meaning* because this is the only one I have. I am free to make my own meaning and pursue my own ideas and ideals of satisfaction and support. I can judge people as they are, free from having to draw arbitrary distinctions of "us" and "them."
I'm my own person, and I have to live with my choices because I'm not going to be bailed out by some benevolent sky-daddy. Atheism is not an end point, and there's no guarantee that an atheist will be a good, moral person. But that's the beauty of it; we have to accept reality on its terms and deal with it as best we can.
Honestly speaking, I gain everything and nothing; by carrying with it absolutely no baggage I gain freedom. My mistakes are my own, my triumphs are my own, and my life has *meaning* because this is the only one I have. I am free to make my own meaning and pursue my own ideas and ideals of satisfaction and support. I can judge people as they are, free from having to draw arbitrary distinctions of "us" and "them."
I'm my own person, and I have to live with my choices because I'm not going to be bailed out by some benevolent sky-daddy. Atheism is not an end point, and there's no guarantee that an atheist will be a good, moral person. But that's the beauty of it; we have to accept reality on its terms and deal with it as best we can.
Thursday, March 25, 2010
I heart irony
So Obama's passed an historic health care reform bill and has met with near-universal opposition from the Christofascists on the Republican side of the aisle.
Just curious, really, but wasn't Jesus all about helping those less fortunate? Or am I getting him mixed up with Allah?
Ooh, right. I keep forgetting that it doesn't matter *what* you do, so long as you say you're doing it in God's name. All is forgiven so long as you subscribe to the whackaloon newsletter.
Just curious, really, but wasn't Jesus all about helping those less fortunate? Or am I getting him mixed up with Allah?
Ooh, right. I keep forgetting that it doesn't matter *what* you do, so long as you say you're doing it in God's name. All is forgiven so long as you subscribe to the whackaloon newsletter.
Wednesday, March 24, 2010
I hate being wrong
So apparently I went off a bit half-cocked yesterday with my post re: Coulter. Seems that initial reports were wrong, and that the twit canceled of her own accord. Or her people did it for her. Either way, fuck her, she's still an idiot, but I owe an apology to the university for thinking they had had something to do with it. So sorry.
P.S. Ann, you're still a twit.
P.S. Ann, you're still a twit.
Tuesday, March 23, 2010
Coulter's a cunt, but that's not illegal.
Ann Coulter, better known as the masculine lovechild of Skeletor and Mr. Ed, was scheduled to give a talk at the University of Ottawa earlier today. Alas, it was canceled due to security issues and a mass of protestors. Protesting's great, don't get me wrong, but to threaten her with physical violence is nothing short of revolting, and the culprit should be fucking ashamed.
This annoys me for several reasons, not the least of which is that it basically says our country's full of pussies who can't handle idiocy the way it *should* be handled: abject mockery. More importantly, however, it gives Ann access to the old canard that liberals can't handle the hard questions and differing viewpoints.
It's bullshit, of course, but conservatives aren't exactly known for their ability to discern talking points from reality. That's why they're conservatives; they're too stupid for anything beyond a sound bite, and you can be sure she'll be shitting them out for the next month or so.
Seriously, fuck you guys for making me feel sympathy for Ann Coulter.
This annoys me for several reasons, not the least of which is that it basically says our country's full of pussies who can't handle idiocy the way it *should* be handled: abject mockery. More importantly, however, it gives Ann access to the old canard that liberals can't handle the hard questions and differing viewpoints.
It's bullshit, of course, but conservatives aren't exactly known for their ability to discern talking points from reality. That's why they're conservatives; they're too stupid for anything beyond a sound bite, and you can be sure she'll be shitting them out for the next month or so.
Seriously, fuck you guys for making me feel sympathy for Ann Coulter.
Monday, March 1, 2010
What I've taken from today's aptitude tests
Language skills are off the charts. Communicative ability is beyond compare. Can't draw a straight line with a ruler. Possesses the computational ability of a calculator missing the numbers 7 and 9.
Does not play well with others. Wishes others would either go away or bow before him. Immune to compromise. Cares not for social convention. Can come off as "cold and indifferent."
Interesting stuff, really. "Limitless potential," so long as I actually, y'know, get off my ass and start living up to it. Huzzah! I have potential.
Does not play well with others. Wishes others would either go away or bow before him. Immune to compromise. Cares not for social convention. Can come off as "cold and indifferent."
Interesting stuff, really. "Limitless potential," so long as I actually, y'know, get off my ass and start living up to it. Huzzah! I have potential.
Thursday, February 25, 2010
Schism time
In what lazy journalists will refer to as another schism in the atheist community, Richard Dawkins has been on the receiving end of criticism for his botched handling of a forum "migration" which has left a membership some 85000 strong homeless and upset. (An excellent summary of the situation is posted at: http://realityismyreligion.wordpress.com/2010/02/23/locked-entry-will-open-soon/)
Basically, his system admin team lied repeatedly to the moderatorship of the largest atheist community on the Internet regarding a transition to a new format, and when the mods took issue, the admins maliciously deleted accounts, prevented communication between the members, and generally destroyed said forum. Some tens of thousands of posts have now been lost to the Internet ether, posts which contained sound scientific knowledge, point by point deconstructions of religitarded bile, and a general love and appreciation of the very ideals which Dawkins has become famous for. It was, in short, a travesty.
There's far more to it than that, of course, but my concern is not with the forum but with Mr. Dawkins' reaction TO the situation. In a quote-mine filled "screed," the professor bemoaned the behavior of the upset denizens of his forum, utterly ignoring the source *of* the grievances - the malicious acts of his system admins - through ignorance that seemingly bordered on willful.
Yes, argument from tone. From Richard Dawkins. Wow.
It's frustrating and disheartening, yes, for a personal hero to commit such an egregious faux pas, but at the same time it's comforting to realize that he is above all else, human, and prone to the same errors of judgment as the rest of us. Our "leaders" are not above reproach, and it's to the strength of the skeptical community that no punches were pulled in his condemnation.
I hope that Richard Dawkins makes amends with the very community which he helped to foster, and I look forward to the next few days to see where he goes from here. Perhaps I'm naive, but I'm not quite willing to write off the man and his accomplishments quite yet.
Basically, his system admin team lied repeatedly to the moderatorship of the largest atheist community on the Internet regarding a transition to a new format, and when the mods took issue, the admins maliciously deleted accounts, prevented communication between the members, and generally destroyed said forum. Some tens of thousands of posts have now been lost to the Internet ether, posts which contained sound scientific knowledge, point by point deconstructions of religitarded bile, and a general love and appreciation of the very ideals which Dawkins has become famous for. It was, in short, a travesty.
There's far more to it than that, of course, but my concern is not with the forum but with Mr. Dawkins' reaction TO the situation. In a quote-mine filled "screed," the professor bemoaned the behavior of the upset denizens of his forum, utterly ignoring the source *of* the grievances - the malicious acts of his system admins - through ignorance that seemingly bordered on willful.
Yes, argument from tone. From Richard Dawkins. Wow.
It's frustrating and disheartening, yes, for a personal hero to commit such an egregious faux pas, but at the same time it's comforting to realize that he is above all else, human, and prone to the same errors of judgment as the rest of us. Our "leaders" are not above reproach, and it's to the strength of the skeptical community that no punches were pulled in his condemnation.
I hope that Richard Dawkins makes amends with the very community which he helped to foster, and I look forward to the next few days to see where he goes from here. Perhaps I'm naive, but I'm not quite willing to write off the man and his accomplishments quite yet.
What is it about beauty queens and their tendency to go full retard? And seriously, on what planet do they think that their opinions on *anything* actually matter? The bar is not set all that high; when your title is bestowed based on your ability to walk straight and not fuck up your own name, you are not destined to be the star member of a think tank.
First Prejean, now Ms. Beverly Hills quoting the biblical verse about gays bein' all god-fucked. You know what? Fuck you, you illiterate bitch. Read the rest of Leviticus and see how important that is to modern society.
Why, oh why, has the level of discourse fallen to the level that beauty queens get national press over their astounding ignorance?
First Prejean, now Ms. Beverly Hills quoting the biblical verse about gays bein' all god-fucked. You know what? Fuck you, you illiterate bitch. Read the rest of Leviticus and see how important that is to modern society.
Why, oh why, has the level of discourse fallen to the level that beauty queens get national press over their astounding ignorance?
Wednesday, February 10, 2010
Not vintage, still amazing
One of the best brands going these days is Barton Perreira. Basic story is that the lead designer and former president of Oliver Peoples left over something to do with the Luxottica merger (I might be mistaken) and launched the new luxury brand, named for Bill Barton and Patty Perreira. In a little less than 3 years' time they've come to rival *any* brand out there in terms of quality and desireability. I'm a huge fan of the company, and possibly my favorite release thus far is the Gonzales.
Basically a smaller, squared off aviator, the frame features some interesting detailing on the upper brow bar and temples, and features the only polarized lenses I've ever been able to wear without discomfort. I really like the edginess of the frame; its lines almost make it look like a prototype that hasn't been smoothed out for production.
I like these for some reason
I'll say flat out that these are some ugly ass shades. They couldn't be more 80s with a perm and a cocaine addiction, but dammit, they're fuckin' awesome.
I've already proclaimed my love of vintage Diors, but while most of them are classy and classic, these are straight out of a Devo music video, or an incredibly shitty sci-fi movie. Yeah, don't care. Ultra-reflective blue lenses with side blinders are awesome, and I don't care how ridiculous they make me look.
I think these are fairly rare, too, as this is one of only two pairs I've ever seen.
Thursday, February 4, 2010
Untitled!
I don't consider myself a hateful person. It's a wasteful emotion and one for which I lack the energy. However, there are topics which serve to bring out the worst in me - religion being the big one - and I'm not sure how to feel about it.
I wonder if the frustration I feel about aspects of my life colors how I react to others who hold beliefs I consider absurd and damaging; perhaps I'm just looking for an outlet for my personal demons. A scapegoat, ironically enough.
I don't know.
I wonder if the frustration I feel about aspects of my life colors how I react to others who hold beliefs I consider absurd and damaging; perhaps I'm just looking for an outlet for my personal demons. A scapegoat, ironically enough.
I don't know.
Wednesday, February 3, 2010
Vintage Caviar
No, not the eggs, the brand.
Can't say I know too much about these, beyond that they're rather understated for the brand. The typical Caviar frames are loud, bordering on obnoxious, with crystals and split stems.
These, though, are single matte black square frames with gradient lenses. Couldn't be more unobtrusive if they were invisible.
I really like flat, barely-curved shape of 'em; they've really got a presence that you just don't see with the wrapped frames of today. Sure, they're not as practical or comfortable, but sometimes you've just gotta stand out. I love 'em.
Monday, February 1, 2010
Love Dior
One of the best eyewear blogs on the 'net is written by the undisputed king of vintage shades, Corey Shapiro. It's found at www.vintageframescompany.com (although it's currently offline for server maintenance; should be back up later this week). I came across it a few months back during a particularly long and boring shift, and I've read it pretty much every day since. If you're at all a fan of vintage frames you owe it to yourself to check it out.
I contacted him back in late November regarding a birthday/early Christmas present for myself, and after a few e-mails back and forth I'd settled on these Diors.
Anyway, this is a long-winded way of introducing you to one of my favorite frames of all time, the Christian Dior 2563. It dates back from the 80s when Dior frames were made by Optyl in Germany, and the quality is unsurpassed. Beautiful, thick tortoiseshell stems coupled with the golden metal browbar make these aviators stand out; I've honestly never seen anything quite like them.
Thanks again, Corey.
Thursday, January 28, 2010
I should be job hunting
I wonder, sometimes, why I’m so fond of sunglasses. I’ve no real fashion sense, no great grasp of the history of my favorite brands, and couldn’t tell you word one about design influences or concepts. All I know is what I like and what I don’t.
What it comes down to, then, is the conflict of who I am and who I want to be. I wear gaudy, attention-seeker shades most of the time, especially when I’m out and about, because I want to be noticed. I yearn for the contact so many take for granted. I try to express without words that there’s something underneath; if the eyes are the windows to the soul, then surely they’re something worth guarding.
Simultaneously, I want to hide, to disappear into the background, to be able to part the crowds and go about my business. I don’t want people to catch my furtive glances and think that I might have something in common with them, because I don’t. Or rather, I feel as though I don’t. If it doesn’t make sense to you, just imagine how fuckin’ difficult it is trying to live it.
Philosophy and sunglasses! This is why I have no future, because for every Peanut Butter and Chocolate there’s an arsenic and
Wednesday, January 27, 2010
I Contact
Yeah, that's the title I originally wanted to go with. I thought it was clever. Apparently someone else did, too.
This is yet another attempt at blogging, the last being an epically shitty Myspace bitchathon for which I am eternally sorry. Thankfully only four people ever saw it, so here's hoping to a slightly better record going forth.
Focus is likely going to be on eyewear -as though there aren't enough blogs on the interwebs devoted to the subject already - day-to-day dalliances - which are sure to be ULTRA-EXCITING given my life consists of unemployment and depression - and general wangst. I can hear you hitting "unsubscribe" already.
Should be fun!
This is yet another attempt at blogging, the last being an epically shitty Myspace bitchathon for which I am eternally sorry. Thankfully only four people ever saw it, so here's hoping to a slightly better record going forth.
Focus is likely going to be on eyewear -as though there aren't enough blogs on the interwebs devoted to the subject already - day-to-day dalliances - which are sure to be ULTRA-EXCITING given my life consists of unemployment and depression - and general wangst. I can hear you hitting "unsubscribe" already.
Should be fun!
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)