"I. AM. HUNGARY!!!!!!!"

Struggling against the Moral Malaise of The Brown Flu, I went with (against?) my gut and went to see OPETH anyway. I would like to apologize to a Trusty Reader whose texts I was blowing-off as regards that show. My "explanation": I was feeling godawful that day and wasn't sure until the last minute that I was even going to go. I certainly didn't feel like going. If it's any consolation, the sound quality was terrible and they played a bunch of pretty weird songs.

Not that it was a Bad show. I was just feeling bad. The sound at Clutch Cargo's was par for CC's course: i.e., godawful. It just sounded BAD. The guitars were too fuzzy and lacked any punch. I was surprised to barely hear the drums, as many Bad-Sounding Metal Shows sound bad because the drums are way too Loud and all you hear is BADADADADADADAD of the wall of bassdrums 'n' snare. Here, you couldn't really hear Either clearly - it made Mr Axenrot's uberprecise style falsely sound sloppy - and the cymbals were all but inaudible. One could sort of hear the bass just enough to hint at Mr Mendez's reputation of "The Steve Harris of Sweden/Uruguay", but it was more a case of "filling in the blanks" in the sound with your imagination. Even Mike Akerfeldt's vokills could barely be heard.

Maybe we were just standing in a bad spot for the acoustics. Maybe my head was packed with cotton.

They opened with "Heir Apparent" off the "Watershed" album. I admit, I'm not as Big-On "Watershed" as I am on "My Arms Your Hearse" or "Blackwater Park," but I do like it better than "Ghost Reveries."

Near the beginning, Mike sang a verse of the concert cover favourite "Soldier of fortune" (Deep Purple.) Rest Assured, his singing - and all the performances of all the musicians - were spot-on and flawless. They were simply done a tremendous disservice by the Bad Sound. His Sensitive-Guy Clean Vox got the most forgiving treatment by the sound, so it wasn't a total loss.

At around this time, I heard one of the Best-Ever metal-voice Song Request Shout-outs, as a guy somewhere behind me extremely ridiculously enthusiastically screamed for

"DE-LIV-ER-ANCE!!!" I usually LOATHE Metal-Voice Shout-Outs from the crowd, but that one guy did an admirable job. Plus he jogged my memory: "Oh yeah! It would be sweet if they played that one." I got excited when Mike announced the next song would be from the "Deliverance" album.

But they played "Wreath" instead. Not my favourite song off that album.

They did, however, play "Godhead's Lament" from Still Life, always a personal favourite. Although they could have played the entire Still Life album and I wouldn't have complained. The Moor? Face of Melinda? Benighted? White Cluster? Get outta Town!

There was "Ghost of Perdition" somewhere in there.

Mike made extremely pleasant, polite, and witty banter between songs. He's not the typical Angry Man of Metal. He's practically a Comedian. He indeed keeps it Really Real, and Really Likeable, even. I might not even hate hanging out with him. He joked "This next song, like all the others, is a complete masterpiece. I wrote it while just goofing around one afternoon. But, ya know, you can't help being a genius."

There's very few people who can get away with saying something like that, and then be cool enough to actually go ahead and say it.

Then some "The Night and the Silent Water" action from "Morningrise." A pretty big personal highlight from "The roundhouse tapes", so I wasn't altogether surprised. Cf: playing "Black Rose Immortal" would have made me mess my pants, as would "To Bid You Farewell".

Still, The Night and the Silent Water is a Damn Classic Song Nonetheless.

Then something off "Watershed", and an encore of "Demon of the Fall." And They pretty much can't not play DOTF for the encore.

I'm only being so picky because I was in a bad mood and the sound was bad. Seeing the band and especially my boy and semi-hero Mike Akerfeldt rocking out joyfully was sufficient to bring a few smiles to my grim face.

Still, I gushed a lot more when I last saw them on the "Damnation" tour in 03. Just sayin.

Actually, the highlight of the night was "Karma" off "MAYH." Although a much better song than Deliverance's "Wreath," these two songs (and kinda also "Godhead's Lament") made me think Opeth was deliberately reaching for the unpredictable. But why not play "The Amen Corner", for that matter?

Sour grapes. Next time they come around, I'll have prepped their newer albums better, and hopefully they'll play at the Crofoot with its top-o-the-line $7million soundsystem.

I really wish I didn't hate people as much as I do. But when they, through simple everyday small talk, reveal themselves within 5 minutes to be annoying, obnoxious sleaze/douchebags, then, I just want to finish my drink, go home, and wish I didn't hate everybody so much.

Although, to be honest, I am superimposing the Humans-Are-Ugly-Filthy-Syphilitic-Animals Trope onto normal, real people, as I've been watching too many Caricatures-Of-People on Lifetime Movies and the Tyra Fucking Banks show. I really, really hope Real People aren't really like this!

Somedays, my mind is literally An Avalanche of horrendously, anxiously unpleasant thoughts. Everything from general and specific grumpiness, to unwanted thoughts of people I don't want to be thinking of at 5:30 am. Ah Well. One day at a time, I suppose.

I can't even be Around Alcohol because I'll find some excuse to drink it. It makes no difference how Responsible the peer group is.

I said once that people drink alcohol because it gives an illusion of Control. Now I'm modifying this stance: many people drink because they are overwhelmed by the combined intensity of The Outer and The Inner Worlds, and are looking for a comfort in numbness, which alcohol effectively provides for a few hours. Taking a Break from It All: The Avalanche of thoughts is Excruciating, and so are most People. It's Too Much.

It helps to remember that All Women are not Crazy, Syphilitic Sluts, despite what Lifetime and Tyra Banks demonstrate. (Only Most of them.) It helps to get-to-know women who are not crazy, syphilitic sluts, lest our view of fully half of humanity becomes unjustly distorted.

I want to be so busy that I need to get a Second Coffee Maker in order to brew all the coffee and tea I need to keep me awake through the long'n'busy day. Although I guess I could just bring a 2-Liter of Xtra-Strong Tea. Or coffee. 2-Liter. ftw.

Finally starting the much-rumbled-about Class In Accounting this day. I might even be able to get a good deal on the Books. They say this one gives a lot of Homework. Good. Because within a mere few weeks of Hands-On Accounting Experience, I'll be able to move to New York and get a Real Job.

Hmm. I never thought of that! That would be the answer to all my troubles! Just simply move to New York or Chicago or London or Boston or Seattle or DC or somewhere Jumpin', and Get A Real Job! How did it only take 4 years for that Simple Solution to cross my mind?!

I'm just a bit annoyed by rarely-posted blogs with short'n'sweet posts about Moving To Manhattan, which don't have months/years of languorous'n'embittered posts about the christless agonizing struggling to get the Hot New J.O.B.

Although maybe I should contact these blog authors for resume'n'cover letter Advice. I like Advice!

Recently I'd had a few "Room-Pops" and thought "Gee, I sure have a lot of books I've never even opened. Why don't I crack this Dostoevsky. Might give me some small-talk material. Interesting And Normal People Read Books."

It took until after the Room-Pops had worn off before I realized the ridiculousness inherent in my motivation for reading Dos.

At any rate, I read the first few pages of "The Idiot" which described a couple of guys sitting on a train. It was boring as all hell. What I want is Adolescent Wangst right from the very first sentence.

Lesson Learned #2: Room-Pops are never, ever a good idea.

I've talked alot about Cheating lately and how awesome it is. Of course I'm being a little facetious/sarcastic. The very word "cheating" is itself LOADED with negative connotations: somebody doesn't LIKE that their expectations of their partner are being flouted, and they're not COMFORTABLE with what (who) their partner is doing. Feelings are thus hurt.

Fine. But the negative emotions attached to the word "cheating" do obfuscate any rational discussion of The Spectrum Of (Non)monogamy.

I'm with Dan Savage on this one: people should be honest about where on that Spectrum they fall, and they should seek partners who are at a similar position as they. I.e., when a staunch monogamist gets together with a staunch nonmonogamist, there WILL be problems at some point in the future. The never-underopinionated Savage bashes therapists and other "professionals" who have an anti-nonmonogamy bias. His reservations are valid, although a bit, erm, savage.

He made me question my own bias, praise the lord. I just don't know where the brass tacks are here. As the lady in Mulholland Dr says, "I DON'T KNOW WHO I AMMMM."

My "love of cheating" springs from my "love-to-hate-humanity." I.e., Humans are so womanly and worthless that they're just not worth being faithful to.

The Elephant in The Room here is Obvious: "I must place some sort of value on fidelity, using the phrase 'worth being faithful to' like that." The words "Fidelity" and "Faithfulness" are just as emotionally-loaded as "cheating." Observe: the bias that frames one thing as positive and the other thing as negative. So, I guess I've just given myself away, uh?

Words like "polyamory" and "(non)monogamy" are Muuuch less emotionally-loaded, and are thus the better terms to use when one is trying not to be sarcastic or puritanical. Fair and balanced ftw.

Well. It's good to think things out like that. Looks like I fall slightly more towards the "monogamy" side of the spectrum. But, being an extremely hateful prick, I've never met anyone who is worth being monogamous to. So I've been forced to the "polyamorous" side of the spectrum, but I'm not too gushingly ecstatic about it.

My preferences In Women are so Off The Grid. I like Prudes. I like Women who don't wear Makeup. I like women who wear Big Underpants. I like women who are Socially Awkward. Kinda Cunty. It also helps if they are Asexual-acting, and never talk about how such-and-such a guy is so hawt. And on top of that, I like it when the Women are somewhat brainy (if not necessarily "intellectual") and somewhat feministy. Being very cynical also can't hurt, nor can a lack of "body art" or "cool fashion".

My main reservation with the Sony PS2 is that it, by virtue of its very existence, cannot have games in the classic Nintendo franchises like Mario and Zelda. But, I am finding, an "Action RPG" like "Kingdom Hearts" does share some similarities in gameplay with "Zelda: Ocarina of Time."

It scratches the itch, but it doesn't QVENCH THE THIRST.

People are strange, not even only when you're a stranger. This post's example: for the past Three (3) consecutive days I've seen a Patron come into the workplace. He has short hair and a mustache and looks kinda like Officer Farva in "Super Troopers." The real strange part is that he's been wearing the Same Clothes on every consecutive day: a light blue polo shirt, with his erect nipples protruding LIKE SHINING DIAMONDS; his shirt is tucked-into BLACK JEANS. He has a vaguely pear-shaped body: flabby stomach, flat ass. I thought his I-Really-Don't-Care look was pretty damn righteous the first day I saw it.

But the two days in a row afterwards?
NOT SO MUCH. EW. UGH. GAAAAHHHH.

I'm not really Hatin' Per Se, because I myself wear BLACK JEANS All The Time. Sometimes I even tuck my shirt into them and look like a Real Boys'-Butthole-Licker.

I really do need an Mp3 player, but I shore as hell don't need an iPod. Do you even know how christlessly expensive those are? I'm going to get a damn Ematic mp3 player from EVILWALMART (omfg ff4'n'corporategreed ftl) for 27 bucks son. Why wouldn't I?

I had a ridiculous dream starring Eric Clapton the other night. In it, Clapton was possessed of a mouthful of incredible teeth, and he was nicknamed "Sharky" or "Snapper" or "Chopper" or something that referred to his unique, and rather comically grotesque, teeth. He had vampirelike incisors as well as several rows of teeth that could shift back and forth and take one another's place. The teeth were all super-sized as well, which led to Clapton having a gigantic jaw and mouth. At one point between Classic songs such as "Layla" and "Lay Down Sally", he put on a little show with his Amazing Choppers, making his teeth "dance" around. The crowd, understandably, went wild.

WTFF?

I broke down and pulled the trigger. Yes, I bought a leg-powered bicycle. Determined to do some "shopping around" rather than simply buying the least expensive bike at Walmart, Meijer, or Target, I went to a proper bicycle shop.

"Let me clarify that I'm by no means 'A Bicyclist'," I informed the young store associate. "I'm just looking for something rather simple to get me from point A to point B and get some exercise. I'm looking for something under xxx$. I'm afraid I may be in the wrong store."

"Yes, you are. You're not going to find it here," he replied.

I appreciated his honesty. A few minutes browsing the store showed me that I would not find a bike under $400. Yikes!

So I found a semi-reasonable deal on a semi-reasonable bike at Meijer, so I got it. Upon laboriously bringing it home, I discovered that, to tighten the handlebar clamp to a point of sufficient safety, I needed an Allen Wrench (aka "Hex Key") of a size I did not have; ("metric", 6mm), so, back to Meijer.

Finally I had the handlebars as steady as they could get (i.e., not quite enough for my personal confidence) and I took off on the long-awaited Virgin Ride.

The bike squeaked in at least 2 places, veryvery loudly. After going over several minor bumps, the handlebar was jostled loose from the clamp, and I discovered exactly how treacherous this situation was. (You might as well be riding a Unicycle.)

(When I lived in the Lap of Bourgeois Overeducated Limousine Liberalism, there was actually a guy who regularly rode a Unicycle around. This is the kind of thing that Affluent Progressives do to Express Themselves. O Horros. If there's one thing I hate, it's Affluent Progressives Expressing Themselves. Just Die. They should make a "Grand Theft Auto" of that city.)

(Also a GTA of the area where I live now would be much-played by myself.)

I'm surprised this hasn't caught on bigtime. It's a new classic. (Apparently the ad wizards who work for Chi-Chi's think Cyborgs are the same thing as Robots.)

The New Jim Jarmusch Movie comes out today (well, a week ago). I already forgot what it's called. The Limits of something. I read a review of it that describes it as inscrutably artsy-fartsy. I'm waiting for him to do another "Night On Earth", and it looks like I may well be disappointed.

But here's an interesting cinematic development. The Cannes Film Festival is going on as we speak, and the big movie o' the day is "Inglorious Basterds." Yeah, yeah, yeah.

But an article I was reading went on to say that GASPAR NOE had a feature in the festival. Yeah. That's right. One of my actual heroes. The One. The Only. Noe Stands Alone. This guy's got almost-impossible expectations (on my part) to satisfy, but believe me, I'm really Crossing Tha Fingaz on this one. I've been in the mood lately to watch his movies again. So ridiculously hateful!

The new one's got the somewhat Noeian name of "Enter The Void" and features a Beautiful Boy named Olly Alexander, the likes of whom would cause Larry Clark to spontaneously-combust before he could extinguish himself with his own jizz:

I was wondering when Noe was finally gonna Take It There. But I say, "Good For Noe!" Someone with this much sexual angst deserves to finally get-off for the first time in his life at the age of 45 or whatever. And if Noe can't get-off to that Beautiful Boy, then he can't get-off to Anyone. Ever.

I'm very curious how his style will gel with Japan (!!!), since Paris/France has always played such a major role in his movies. And I'm also ecstatic to see that the Incomparable Phillippe Nahon also makes an appearance in "Enter The Void." Hopefully as The Butcher!

Leonard Cohen: "The Butcher"

Here's another one Cohen would never play live. It wouldn't go well with the big-band treatment anyway. It's a two-leveled song: simple, light'n'lazy on the surface, but ridiculously dark underneath. It's a great "Heroin Song" for this reason, and for the matter-of-fact way the character of The Butcher says:

"I found a silver needle,

I put it into my arm.

It did some good.

Did Some Harm."

Lars von Trier's Antichrist is also (premiering?) at Cannes, and the first reviews characterize it as Incredibly Controversial and Gut-Wrenching. Ridiculously Violent and Disturbing. I'm psyched. Trier's films have been really low-key lately, and, even though I was initially disappointed he'd put his film "Washington" on hold, the hype about Antichrist is pumping me up. Trier's no stranger to violence, but not the squeamish, XXXX-rated, Gaspar Noeish violence promised in "Antichrist". And apparently you get to see Willem Dafoe's Penis Penetrate Charlotte Gainsbourg's Pussy. (There's not much that squicks me more than actual sex-on-film, framed-as-"art". If you want to make me puke, show me "Shortbus.")

Holy Scheidt is this a Damn Good year for movies!

Recently I had a first. Drinking Alcohol not only severely messes with my mood, but it severely messes with my sleep. El Sensitivo over here. For the next 2 or 3 days after drinking, I sleep like a bastard, having a night full of disturbing dreams, waking up constantly, etc. Not fun.

Recently, I found myself in a state of consciousness I like to call "Lucid Sleeping." It wasn't quite dreaming, but it wasn't 100% awake, either. I could feel myself breathing very deeply, and I could sense the unconscious thoughts that would likely become dreams if I went fully into sleep. I could actually feel my Eyes doing very Rapid Movements. R.E.M., son. I was fully on the borderline of sleep and waking. I certainly did not feel awake at all, but I was aware of myself laying in my bed. But my thoughts were more in that "trippy" dreamlike variety, rather than the anxious avalanche of conscious pessimistic thoughts.

Real interesting. This has honestly never happened to me, and I could only compare it to a psychedelic experience.

Hopefully it means I've recovered from the Long Memorial Day Weekend O' Drinking and can start a regular Sleep/Work/Life Schedule again. Alcohol is so stupid. Such a bad idea. I get Hangovers that last for 2 or 3 days. So stupid. This is how idiotic I am.

Finding myself again Glued to the Bed on a lazy weekend afternoon, I ended up watching Lifetime Movies. These are Pure Evil. The best one was called "She's Too Young", and is about a Syphilis Outbreak at an Average High School. I might have to get this one on dvd, it was so good: all the boys are misogynistic pigs and all the girls are one-dimensional sexbots who have no choice but to be Used by the boys, or be relegated to perpetual Unpopularity. It's great. 14 year old freshman with 50+ Sex Partners, jumping into bed with 2 or 3 boys at a time, spreadin' the Syph.

This was Based Off A True Story, and you can see how it leads to a Moral Panic as did Rainbow Parties, and, now, Sexting.

My favourite part was when this geeky unpopular guy finally gets a shot with his crush girl (after she's gotten all Syphed'n'Streeeetched-Out, of course), and she straddles him, ready-as-always for casual sex, and he gets nervous and wants to Take It Slow because they only just had their First Kiss several minutes ago, and he, being an Unpopular 14 year old boy, is naturally a mad virgin. She gets upset because she thinks that because he gets nervous about casual sex, then that thus means he doesn't really like her, and so then she storms off to get fucked by some guy who just had unprotected S with 500 syphilitic girls.

Based on many A True Story, Indeed!

I can't even rightfully call this guy "womanly", because then, like A Woman, he'd be getting promiscuous satisfaction. No, I'll just call him a Pussy-Ass Faggot, in the sense that Wimpy Str8 Guys can be Faggots. (I.e., not homosexual, but they really should be.)

The best is when the cool kid tries to "rape" the girl, and Pussy-Ass Fag brandishes his trusty cell-phone camera like a gun: "Leave the girl alone or I'll EMAIL 911!"

What a hero.

Even better: the main girl who undergoes The Transformation Of Character and Behaviour is none other than Alexis Dzieiziel, the Annoying Cunt who plays Michael Cera's x "Triss" in the insufferable "Nick and Norah"; AND the quite "forthright" daughter "Lolita" in "Broken Flowers," who first appears in a very tasteful full-frontal nude ("Bush") scene.

I'm less threatened by The Framing of Modern Female (Wanton) Sexuality than I am outright turned-OFF by it.

AnNOYing!

But just keep telling yourself: The Real World isn't so All-Or-Nothing!

Politically, I can't really say "what I am", nor do I really want to. I see terms like "liberal" and "conservative" as blankets. "Conservative" leaves a nasty taste in my mouth, but so does "liberal" too. Imho, too many "liberals" are too hasty'n'unjustifiably proud to label themselves as "liberals". The buzzword has become a curseword.

(Of course, it's gay of me to say "I don't like labels. Maaaan.")

Nor would I describe myself as "Libertarian", or "Moderate." "Independent", though gay, would probably be the closest.

I would Be Labeled a Liberal because I'm all about Change. Because what people have been doing has obviously not been working. I'm just too uninformed, uneducated, ignorant, and apathetic to suggest any ideal course of change.

This is why I should have taken more political science and ECONOMICS courses. Although I might take Econ in the fall.

I'm mostly obsessed with The Libidinal right now, at the expense of The Political and The Economic. They still are all obviously interconnected. Obviously. It is under the theme of "THE SOCIAL" that they are all connected. Imho. What I'm saying: At this minute, I'm more interested in micro, person-on-person Social Interactions, rather than macro/societal/frameworkish Social Interactions. Yeah.

I have This Look I've pretty much perfected that tells women:

"I will ravage - or maybe rape? - the living christ out of you. Even though I'm being friendly right now and smrt enough not to ogle your body right in front of your face, you and I both know I would split you in half, and I'm gonna devour your ass with my eyes and totally judgepwn you'n'your body as soon as you turn around but you will Neverever CATCH me doing it."

You better believe there's a smidgen of contempt in The Look, but it's an alluring, bad-boy Edward Cullen type of Contempt, rather than outright Creepy Rapist contempt. (NB: There's still the Vague Implication of Rape, however. Because That can be Sexy.)

People don't sleep and I don't understand this. People with normal day jobs go to the bar till close, then stay up and hang-out on the internet all night long, DON'T SLEEP A WINK, and then go in and work for 12 hours and don't get fired and don't even complain about it. Whereas if I sleep less than 8 hours or have one drink on a work-night, I can't stop complaining the next day.

What I'm most impressed by is Alcoholics With Jobs. They go into work hung-over and underslept on a Regular Basis. How in god's name does this work? I can't even handle a one-time affair without apologizing to the world and writing an Open Letter swearing how I'll never drink. Again.

Catholics, even we lapsed ones, are always Great At Guilt.

Am I the only Sane Person Alive who realizes that ALLEN GINSBERG was VOCAL ABOUT HATING WOMEN and LICKING LITTLE BOYS' B-HOLES????!! This wasn't an "Open Secret", it was outright Open!

All the more reason to like 'im, I reckon. I still prefer Straight Rapist Alcoholics like Bukowski, though.

Bitches be ackin like Rape is Suuuch a Big Deal. It's NOT. All Women are so forward about offering sex willy-nilly - they've lowered the threshhold SO Godlessly Low - that Rape doesn't even Exist Anymore. Because They Always want it. All of them. And even if they don't, their not-knowing is so uncertain, they forget about it after a few seconds anyway. ALL OF THEM.

I'm just going to start going up to random "mainstream attractive" women and demanding that they SEXT me pictures of their B.HOLES. Of course, that kind of directly-hostile delivery will fail, but rest assured all women indeed HAVE sexted pictures of their b.holes to guys that had a more fun'n'casual delivery. Excuse me for not thinking it's a laughing matter.

Some people get really offended whenever they hear somebody speaking a foreign language in a public place. Who cares. I myself get angry when people speak a mixture of english + foreign language. Like, "ahchchchcchhbggagghh pick me up habib." SO obnoxious. It's SUCH an Arab/Albanian/Russian thing to do. They're all the same to me.

I recently saw a blond girl with her tits totally spilling out and with pink pajama-type pants that look like they were PAINTED ON. I can understand being comfortable with your body, but is there any need to ram it down the public's throat like this? Not even at Teh Club!!!

I mean, I have an awesome body, but I don't go around flaunting my Guns or wearing supertight Anything. There's even a (very small minority) of Women-with-decent-bodies that don't dress in Revealing Everything 24/7. That just looks trashy.

COMMON COURTESY, PEOPLE!!

We all know it takes me Yeeeeeeears to come to No-Brainer conclusions. "Late Blooming" ftf. By the time I'm 40 maybe I'll be mature enough to have a high-school "girlfriend". But here's this post's White Hot Insight:

I should have been taking Xanax for yeaaaars. Or valium or some kind of benzo.

Everybody takes them anyway; who am I to be above it?

Except I wouldn't take them recreationally. I would use them for their prescribed medicinal purpose. I.e., pop them when I get nervous and musn't be nervous, like when giving a presentation or talking to an uberrare woman-I-don't-hate.

There's this stuff called "Buspirone" which supposedly alleviates anxiety, only without the sedative effect of the benzos. Because what does one really want: relief from anxiety, or Sedation? Buspirone apparently needs a few weeks to start working, though. And I kinda do wanna be sedated. But Buspirone is waaaay more affordable than benzos!

So I think I'll mosey on over to Princeton-Plainsboro Free Clinic and get Dr House to write me a script.

Although Wpedia suggests Benadryl might have an off-label anxiolytic effect. I've certainly seen them put people to sleep.

That's it. I'm buyin' some Benadryl.

So I got some Meijer-brand "Benadryl" for a nice price. I popped one capsule and slept from 8 pm to 10 am. Better than goin' to the bar! (And, far less soul-crushing than NyQuil!) I'll have to wait till I get hella nervous to see what kind of effect they might have on that directly.

I reached a minor epiphany/breakthrough/insight lately: EVERYBODY'S a whoreslut. (And by "everybody", I really mean "99.9999% of people".) Men and women both. It doesn't necessarily stop them from being Good People, even if the quality of whoresluttishness is not itself good.

But that's just my opinion. I read this extremely provocative article in Rolling Stone about the young pornography starlet Sasha Grey. (I was reading RS because there was a huge photo of Bob Dylan gracing the cover and a semi-interesting feature with him inside.) Summary: she is trying to break the pornstar mold by being intelligent (She enjoys Nietzsche and Godard!!!!1), substance-free, and a role model to tell women it's ok and natural to Enjoy Sex.

As always, I argue that pornography is not the best Framework from which to make a sex-positive argument. Especially when she works with sadistic, fetishistic pornography. Especially when pornography itself portrays a type of sexuality that is not very lifelike. (Well, besides the fact that Average People do fuck each other as much as Porn Actors, and women do like getting big loads on their face all the time.)

Eh. I can't even argue against Pornography any more. Don't get me wrong - I'm still not for it; I still think it's unrealistic and degrading; but I STAND ALONE with respect to my opinion. So Why argue. I give up arguing, but I'll never give up Standing Alone.

Everybody likes porn. Everybody's a whoreslut. Everyone's sexted pictures of their b.holes. C'est le vie. It doesn't make them Bad People. It just ain't me, Babe.

Still. Common Sense says "Don't put nude/sex pictures of yourself on the internet. Don't even TAKE nude/sex pictures of yourself just to be on the safe side, because someone else could put them on the internet." It's never a good idea to give someone else nude/sex pictures of yourself. But everybody does it ANYWAY. Because everyone's a goddamn immodest exhibitionist.

So my Great Entrepreneurship Idea is to start a website whose mission it is to host "embarassing" pictures of people sent-in by other people who want to embarrass them. Idiots would jerk-off to it - that can't be helped - but My Mission Statement would nonetheless be: "To prove that nude/sex pictures can indeed damage one's reputation."


MAYHEM and MARDUK are going on tour. I'm going to see them, and You should too. Neither of these bands tour the US that much, and this, to my knowledge, is the first time they've toured together. They both play face-melting, christraping black metal that's very friendly towards blast-beats. And yet they are very divisive: their "fans" are extremely opinionated and have been quick to label them "sell-outs." I could care less; it's guaranteed to be a Damn Good Metal Show.


So have a good weekend, you fucking slutwhores.

"the ferryman asks a high toll"

If you make an ungettable reference, common courtesy/sense dictates that you explain it, because, due to its unubiquity, it really cannot be intended as a joke. Or even as a reference. Because most people have no point of reference for it. Anyhow, that quote is uttered by Auron in Final Fantasy X. He's always saying hilarious Deep Wack Shit like that.

Vice City is consuming my life. This is a Damn Fun Game (wags finger profoundly). I have played it for hours and hours and hours. They don't have games like this on the Super Nintendo. This is exactly why I bought the PS2 - to bide my time, to provide welcome distraction, for an asocial man who has seen every movie ever made and who needs something new to fuel the fire.

I could go to the bar, but think about it like this: every drop of that stuff is poison and pushes me back from being a goal-achievin' man. And, even more validly: Even liberally assuming it takes 30 minutes to drink one drink (yeah right), that same money could be used to buy at least twice that amount of time in a rental domicile. Don't know exactly; I'll have to crunch some numbers, but it's clear which is the waaay more cost-effective option.

Simply put: going to the bar is preventing me from Moving Out.

And I only go once a week! Twice at most! Good God!

Enough navel-gazing. Back to Vice City. It essentially combines the Hour-Devouring aspect of great RPGs with the thrill of being a homicidal sociopath. It's probably indicative of Something that I choose to kill Only Women in the game. Usually hookers with a chainsaw, although blowing them away with a shotgun is also pretty damn satisfying.

The game is surprisingly profane, although they seem to shy away from "F-Bombs." I liked it when my hero stole a car and called the person a "stupid cocksucker."

And the Blacks say great stuff like "C-MON, SON!" and "This shit ain't REAL!"

Let's not forget about the joy of running over groups of Haitians in an Infernus barrelling down the sidewalk at 100 mph.

My god. I might just have to do a Vice City Fanfic. Or at least buy some more GTA games. That's already in the Spreadsheet.

I like prudes. I'm just going to come out and say it: I like, respect, admire, and Value the characteristic of Prudishness. I would rather "date" a lady who leans towards the Prudish side of the spectrum rather than the Promiscuous side. I'm not saying there's anything wrong with Promiscuity. I'm just saying there's Nothing Wrong with Prudishness. I'm a total prude myself. Insofar as you can talk about "facefarting" and "pissgargling" and "jizzshitting" all day and still be a prude.

I actually like to Just Hang-out with a woman a few times before I bury my Sinister Black Cock into her. Pretty faggy, I know, so I like to grow a Beard to tear up the woman's face. So I can save face.

I cannot believe I am about to say this. I recently watched Dane Cook: "Vicious Circle" and I LIKED it. I liked DANE COOK. What the hell is wrong with me? I was ashamed. But I must credit him for making me laugh beyond all my strongest inclinations.

What I most dislike about him is his rampant popularity and "rockstar" personality. What kind of a "stand-up comedian" fills Stadiums with berzerk fans? Also, I dislike that so many people are so vocal about loving him so much. I still don't like that. Suck Dane's Dick some more, why don'tchya.

But Dane won me over. It seems that he and I think rather alike, wrt The Absurd and making up ridiculous words. I also enjoyed his treatment of man/woman relationships and especially of cheating. He talks about his own experience as a Cheater, and, as a Prospective Cheater, I welcomed his perspective.

He doesn't make it clear why he cheated in the first place, though. Hopefully because he had a complete lack of respect for his troglodyte "girlfriend." I would have not showered my genital area off after banging another broad, but rather said "You don't own me, baby. Haven't you ever heard of an open relationship?" Why all the secrecy?

Cheating is a very useful tool. It's not right that it gets such a bad rep. Just as I would "date" a woman for the sole purpose of making her get an abortion, I would "date" a woman for the sole purpose of cheating on her. It's one of those Inherently Positive Things, like Humanitarianism or Honest Hard Work; It's simply a Good End Unto Itself, and Should Be Done-As-Its-Own-Reward.

It's not just that people are so worthless that they're not worth not cheating-on; it's moreso that not-cheating-on anyone isn't necessarily doing them any special FAVOUR. (Although if it were [doing them a favour], then the people would still be sufficiently worthless so as to nullify the favour. Absolutamente, Gente.)

Got it? Good. Now go. Cheat.

LET'S GO TO PRISON

I was stricken with a strange case of Saturday Paralysis, and, having wearied of a full morning of Grand Theft, Violence-Against-Women, Cop-Killing, and General Mass Murder, I laid back in bed and started surfing channels, only to see Dax Shepard and Will Arnett's friendly faces on Comedy Central. Ok, Sold, I thought. (Both of these funnymen have been acquired tastes for me, but now I'm decidedly on the love side of the love/hate spectrum.) And then I saw Bob Odenkirk. The movie smacked of Odenkirk's deliberate hand throughout, I reckoned, and would absolutely appeal to fans of "The Brothers Solomon." Ridiculous, inappropriate, line-crossing, black - but never mean-spirited, and always Wacky - comedy.

I've always been interested in Prison. I haven't seen enough good prison movies, which is unfortunate, because Prison is an endlessly fecund topic. With humourists like the above-mentioned, you can guess what Aspect of Prison Culture is the source (and the "butt", haha) of the majority of the jokes. And I wouldn't have it any other way. The "love interest", Barry, actually had me LOLing. (The actor is Chi McBride, whom You will remember as the Corporately-Greedy Edward Vogler on "House, M.D.", and as the cigarette-smoking dishwasher/phisolopher in "Waiting." He's shot to the top o' my list.)

Short and Sweet. Not even 90 minutes. I'd love to watch it again, uncensored, and without commercials. The cast is great, featuring faves such as David Koechner (when is he going to get a Lead Role?) and Dylan Baker (Happiness ftw.) Get together with some friends, watch this one, and have a great time. Thanks be to Odenkirk. If he continues making movies in this mold, I will be the last to complain.

When LGTP was finished, Comedy Central played the movie

EMPLOYEE OF THE MONTH.

I enjoyed this much more than I should have. At this point, I'd not yet seen "Dane Cook: Vicious Circle" and still hated him with a raging passion. I also hated, and continue to hate, Jessica Simpson. What sucked me into EOTM was that it

1. starred Dax Shepard

2. was a clearly Stupid Comedy

3. concerned the topic of Unskilled Big-Box Store Labour. Rollin' Up The Sleeves and Workin' For A Livin'.

For that, I'd stomach Dane Cook AND J. Simpson. Plus I do enjoy Andy Dick, Harland Williams, and that Ethnic guy that played Iqbal (isn't he the same guy from "40 year old virgin"?)

I gradually become less hateful towards Cook and more hateful towards Simpson. Cook is fairly understated and Everymannish. He's not that much of a Spass as he typically is, and he had some wonderful lines such as: "You're the Balls AND the Taint. You're that Whole General Area."

Simpson, however, is shameful, and I equally blame both her and the writers for this Abortion of a Role. Her character had to be the most one-dimensional Stupid Woman I have ever seen. Of course, Jessica Simpson IS the most One-Dimensional Stupid Woman Ever, so it was a brilliant casting choice for what really is, and what was hopefully meant to be, an unflattering, insulting role.

Literally. She does nothing. She is Nobody. She is framed as nothing more than a total Object from beginning to end. This was my main complaint with the movie. Now, Dane pays the price for treating her as an Object, and he learns his lesson, (storyarc ftw), but there's no transformation on Simpson's part. She's as dumb as the work day is long. No redeeming qualities. The character is bona fide misogynistic. I was mature enough to realize this, but I'm afraid the "target demographic" of this movie is not. They'll simply stare at Simpson's body the entire movie and think "I want to Jizz-on That Broad's Tits." These thoughts are never discouraged or even analyzed.

Plus at least half the jokes fell flat - were awkward in timing or content or both. But for some reason I still found them funny, and I'm a bit confused why. Probably because I liked the setting and I was willing to give the movie Bonus Points for its good casting. And I was Paralyzed and didn't want to do anything but lay in bed like a SLUG and watch very stupid movies. This certainly did the trick.

Then they showed the Dane Cook special ("Vicious Circle.") I admit, I have some very superficial reasons for hating him: I don't like the way he looked (big Douchebag frat boy), I really don't like the annoying sound of his annoying voice (GAY), I don't like some of his turns-of-phrase/"innovations" ("sangwich", "superfinger"), and I don't like that so many Humans are loudly in love with him. So that he made me laugh in spite of these prejudices was all the more commendable. I still would certainly never go around calling myself a "dane cook Fan", though, and would be highly suspicious of anyone who does.

I watched his new special "Isolated Incident" and it wasn't as good. It was merely ok. Some of the ideas were pretty funny; and I do enjoy his "sharing" re: the death of his parents and his "rapist-murderer" sexual role-playing. He says many of the same things I say, i.e., completely inappropriate/offensive, but he getsawaywithit because of his lovable image. (He confronts a couple in the audience and says "How long have you been dating, or should I say, how long have you been About-To-Break-Up?"; and also something like "I feel sorry for the woman I'm cheating on to stick it in you." I gotta respect anyone with such a Fundamental Contempt for Heterosexual Relationships.)

(NB: The hands-down single best part of "Isolated Incident" SPOILER ALERT was Cook's story about an Anonymous Hater: Anonymous@yahoo sent Cook an email saying "Your parents died of cancer because they wanted to get away from your stupid 'comedy.' " Not bad, right?

Then Anonymous sent him a second email a few years later, saying "I'm sorry I said that. I was going through some tough times then - unemployed, alcoholic, severely depressed, my father was dying of a brain tumour - and I just wanted to apologize and let you know I don't mean what I said, I don't really hate you."

To which Cook responded: "Your father died of a brain tumour because he wanted to get away from his unemployed, alcoholic, loser son."

SPOILER END

Braaaaaaaaaaaaavo!)


The Spreadsheet is killing me, although I do deserve it - I hella overspent at the B.A.R. the previous couple weeks. Like always, there's never anything to show for that. No conquests. No business deals or professional networking. Just drunkenness on Lite Beer and frustration with The Human Race and with The Jukebox. I think I'm finally starting to learn my lesson here.

I got to start making some monay. All of us do. One day I do want to move out of my parents' house and buy clothes not exclusively from the salvation army. (Note to self: $20 T-Shirts Pull.)

For some reason I am not AS ridiculously angry and hateful today as I usually am. I'm enjoying this newfound tranquillity, but, naturally, I worry about how sensible it is, and how "long-lived" it's going to be. I fear it's based in a rather unreasonable/unrealistic cluster of thoughts. Still, I'm keeping my fingers crossed, and I'd thank anyone who crosses their fingers for even just a moment on my behalf.

Do women even wear underwear anymore?

No, they don't, and if you don't believe me, then just look at their fucking fat asses hanging out for the whole world to see. It's like they're saying to the world "Look at my bare, fat fucking ass!"
Fuck it! Fuck my ass!"

I've always been concerned with the issue of Thong underwear, and it's Just Wrong I haven't discussed this topic on the SIBHoD yet. Time to Get Caught Up.

Back in the day, ONLY strippers and prostitutes used to wear Thongs. Because they are a clearly ubereroticized form of underwear - worn only to titillate, and not at all for personal comfort. How could such an abomination be comfortable? Methinks it would lead directly to a Chafed Anus. Nowadays, Unfortunately, Thongs are the primary underwear of choice for women who still wear underwear.

WHAT A WORLD!

Give me a prude what wears granny panties. That's exactly the kind of "traditional", "unempowered" woman I would like to one day enslave.

The SIBHoD is extremely ANGRY. Not to toot my own horn, but I have tried to make it Funny, i.e., Bitterly Sarcastic, which is indeed a step up from much of the writing I used to do a few years ago - which was angry but also humourless. Now that was a Real Downer!

Still, I wouldn't mind toning-down the Anger of the SIBHoD. That is, I'd like to experiment with Writing that isn't so Angry. Maybe I can channel my anger through something less verbal, and more physical. Bar Brawls and Serial Rape, for example. Because, HILARIOUS as it may be, the SIBHoD is still waaay too angry for This Writer to Pull.

You can't have anger. If you do have anger, you'd best hide it. Maybe I'll hide it in my WALKING WALLET.

I have no business with bars. I want to get away from annoying, excruciating people, not pay out the ass to suck down drinks around these troggies.

I'm actually a pretty boring guy. Boring is not necessarily bad, I'm beginning to reckon. So you don't "go out dancing" and suck 6,000,000 dicks ("willy-nilly") every weekend. So you sit at home and read harry potter and watch "Battlestar Galactica" all weekend. I think you know which of these I prefer.

It's time to finally face the music: I'm just not down with the whole Social Scene Whatsoever.

So I shouldn't have budgeted any money in The Spreadsheet for Video Games this pay-period, but...my ps2 Library isn't gonna build itself.

I picked up "Kingdom Hearts" because I was in the mood for a new rpg and I couldn't find "Dragonquest 8" at Gamestop and KH was rather competitively-priced. Plus it gets generally decent reviews; AND is produced by the good folks at Squaresoft. At the time, some people balked at the idea of a Final Fantasy + Disney Characters mashup, and it certainly sounds pretty GAY on paper. Here I am, a 26-year old malemployed single man living in his parents' house, alternating between Blowing Peoples' Heads Off From Rooftops With A Sniper Rifle, Panicking over Shrieking Torso Monsters in a Supernatural-Psychological Horror, and playing with jesuschristing Donald Duck + Goofy Dog.

I'm not sure I can give a verdict on KH yet. The environment of the game is extremely inviting, but I'm not sure how much I like the Battles. There's too many little annoying monsters that get in your way all the time. But, if I know my Rpg's, then, I suspect, that putting in a few hours towards grinding over The Hump will produce tens of hours of solid play later. Crossing Fingazz.

I was driving down the street on a wonderful sunny afternoon and had a Great Misogynistic Epiphany / Rape Defense:

It's muuuch more traumatizing for men to get raped in prison by other men than it is for Women to get Raped by an Acquaintance who they really should just give-it-up-to-already Anyway.

Yeah, as far as Rape is concerned, these days I'm most interested in Date Rape and Acquaintance Rape. According to RAINN, ~73% of rape victims know their assailants. It's not a masked stranger jumping out of the bushes with a butcher knife. It's a night of drunken line-crossing.

C'mon. Don't make me call the integrity of RAINN into question. That would be a Real Womanly thing to do.

No, I don't have anything valuable to add to the conversation, and I haven't done my reading and research for today. I just wanted to Plant The Seed. Get the Audience Thinking. And the more I think about it, the more I'm not surprised by that statistic.


What kills me is that there's still people out there who have no concept of Spoilers. That MAYBE you haven't seen the movie/show yet and don't want to hear about the shocking ending. Most times I laugh, because I'm not really invested in LOST or whatever, but still.

What's really shocking is that the time has come where I'm giving LESSONS IN COMMON SENSE.

I'll be going to see the Swedish Heavy Metal band OPETH this Sunday. I started really getting into Opeth after getting out of high-school, and then I sorta lost track of them around 2004 or so. But then I picked them back up again. I have to thank their Live Album "The Roundhouse Tapes" for waking me up, and would recommend it to any old Opeth fan who has lost the fayth.


I'm not gonna sit here and bash myself because that just sounds spastic, lame, weak and womanly - to be sure, I'm madly in unconditional love with myself - but I recognize I've not made the best decisions regarding my Education and Professional Career Path. I bought the Line that said "There's Real Value and Versatility in a Liberal Arts Degree! A Wide Range of Employers are attracted to someone with such strong Writing and Critical Thinking Skills!"

As a 20-year-old snotnose with very little ambition beyond The Sensualistic and The Spiritual, I wanted so badly to believe that. "It'll all turn out ok in the end, Wildman; just finish your degree," I told myself. (Back then, I was known as "Wildman"or "Mr. Nature", and had not yet incarnated my Classwar: Man of Absolute Power avatar.)

Now, as an Old Man, I can clearly see what a Crock Of Shit this was, and I wish I hadn't fallen for it. But I did, and you cannot change the past.

What I'm saying is, You better believe I'm playing with The Spreadsheet so I can take my Accounting and Business Instructors out to L.V.N.C.H.


I'm not really a good listener but I try to play myself off as one. I nod my head and say "uh-huh" and "mm-hmm" and rephrase what I'm being told and I try not to challenge more than 25% of the other person's beliefs, because very few things offend me more than:
When you're talking to a person and you don't really want to have a debate or an argument, you just want to have a chill, low-impact small talk conversation; and then, after almost every thought you contribute to the conversation, they other person says the equivalent of "Yeah, But, What If You're Wrong." Fucking Rudies. I'm not wrong, and even if I were, I don't care. See ya later, I got some Levels to Grind.


There's a lot of episodes of "Wife Swap" that deal with religious fundamentalists. I watch these families and get a Wicked Cringe on. Recently there was an interesting twist: Fundie Wingnut Wife gets swapped-into a family where the father is a former preacher; who, finding the Fundie Worldview too Limiting, he devoted his life to really trying to understand the Good Book, and got a PhD in biblical studies or some shit. He, and his similarly-minded wife, were reallllly offended by what they saw as (and what clearly was) Brainwashing of the Fundie Kids by their Fundie Parents: i.e., it is The Woman's Duty to be a Subservient Housewife.

There was a Harrowing Scene where the Empowered Wife took the Fundie Girl out for a walk and explained that Being a Wife'n'Mother and having a Career were not Mutually Exclusive; and that the girl should not deny her dreams of becoming a Doctor just because the Book says she has to be a Mother first and foremost and nothing else. The girl struggled with this revelation; you could tell that in her little heart she wanted to believe this; but, wracked with guilt about "rebelling" against her Fundie Parents and her Fundie Religion, she went back to her old ways once Liberal Wife moved out. And Fundie Family couldn't be happier.

So yeah. Interesting twist there. It's one thing to get Fundamentalists together with Atheists or Wiccans or something ridiculous, and, if you've ever watched "Wife Swap", you know they have. But here was the first time I'd ever seen such an opportunity for meaningful discussion: the God PhD guy was clearly a man of deep faith and was even reduced to a big Weeping Faggot at one point out of his frustration with the Fundie's Closed-Mindedness.

I guess the only take-home point is that some people are more comfortable with a restrictive brand of religion, whereas others are more comfortable with an unbounded "spirituality."

But it was kinda heartbreaking to see the poor damn kids being sucked into it without a choice. The Fundie Father was forward in admitting: "Yes, if you want to call it that, I am BRAINWASHING them. Brainwashing them into what I believe is right."

And some people just will never see any problem with that.

Those poor girls are going to suck so many dicks, so willy-nilly, once they get out of that house. And wear thongs. They'll never pull a Moral Man like me.


We are all expendable. That's what these Tuff Times are telling me. The rug could be pulled out from under any one of us at any minute, with no other explanation than "It's the economy, stupid." One doesn't need any other reason to get laid-off. You could get laid-off tomorrow, and no amount of experience or education will be your parachute. Things are hopeless. I see this as all the more reason to Be The Best You Can Be. I might not have the most high-status job, but it took enough Soul-Sucking to finally get the job, and so thus I try to be Superemployee all day every day. And even that's not gonna make me nonexpendable, but at least, if I get the Ax one day, I'll be able to sleep at night knowing it was not because of any personal incompetence, and that the people who swung the Ax will feel horrible about having to do it.

Not that I'm foreseeing any Ax in the near future. But things regularly slow down during the summer here, and, of course, budgets are being cut everywhere.

I should probably be at my Union meeting that's going on right now, but the sentiment is, that the Union is pretty useless. I think I've discussed this before.

It's not a simple matter of rank-and-file apathy or of undemocratic, self-serving Union Beauracracy. It's more of a matter of being So Low on the Totem Pole that your job is almost not worth protecting. Not like there's anything you could really do to protect it anyway, being the Lowest On the Totem Pole. Plus, there's no impending or definite threat of layoffs. The only thing I'd ideally negotiate is a Better Contract that would turn this into a Real Job. (Not that I think such a negotiation would be feasible or even plausible anyway!) But it's clearly Not Meant to be a Real Job, so..... talk about a Vicious Circle!


Did that Hannah Montana movie BOMB or what? Pretty soon, she will be going the way of Lizzie McGuire. Anyone remember Lizzie McGuire?


Yeah, looks like I've again posted a very narcissistic, navel-gazing post. You don't like it, go on the internet and complain.


Jeff Buckley. Man, is THAT guy overrated.


I really like how I've started using the word "womanly" as meaning "stupid, lame, and weak." It's even better than "GAY".

So have a nice day/week, and try not to get shitcanned.

"she waves a nazi dagger"

Preface: I have been in a bad/weird mood mostly all week, so that's my excuse for the not-so-greatness of this SIBHoD. It does, however, describe a Very Positive Life Event, FWIW; YMMV.


I've always been a moody chap, but in the past year or two I've been getting a different kind of bad mood some mornings. It's not merely grumpiness/crabbiness. I wish. Now there's a definite feeling of DREAD and TERROR and FEAR in there sometimes. Sometimes you feel like you may burst into tears for absolutely no reason. I liken it to Naomi Watts' Final Minutes in "M.D." : she's clearly a bit more than just a little upset. She's stark raving mad. Not to mention a bit anxious. She makes a very sudden and very final decision. You can tell she wasn't thinking rationally or clearly.

She might benefit from eating some sesame chicken and taking a good healthy nap instead of doing what she did. Although - telling, both of her general state, and of David Lynch's Good Writing - she does spend most of the movie in a narcotic coma, trying to escape/block out her guilty conscience. Wow. The movie doesn't exactly get worse with time.

Along with the dread and the fear, there's also a pervading sense of your own weakness, mortality, insignificance and fragility which is not too encouraging. It's the total humble pie with Fear A La Mode.

And that's not all, folks. Sometimes there's physical unpleasantness - anything from nausea to lightheadedness to dizziness to chills to sweats.

Sometimes I feel like the world's most evil person. Usually this deals with the concept of "R". You know what I mean.

More accurately - on certain particular Mad Mondays, all my sense of morality goes out the window.

For example: . . . Well, I won't even write it, because such might eventually prove to be SELF-INCRIMINATORY. As in, criminal court, son.

Well, some days the ends justify the means, dawg.

I almost don't want to talk about the LEONARD COHEN concert because there are not words to describe it. I'm a bit ashamed I was ever ambivalent about going to the show, as, in retrospect, I can't imagine not going.

Let's put it this way. The only thing that could possibly compare would be a Tom Waits concert. Actually, that's a stupid thing to say, because LC and TW are kinda apples and oranges. I'm just trying to give an indication of the "league" of gravitas which these True Artists inhabit.

So I'll just talk about the songs. LC is one of the greatest songwriters of all time and has written more classic songs than any person ever. And he played ALL of them. (Except for "Avalanche." Or some of the slightly-less-ubiquitous old songs like "Tonight Will Be Fine" or "Sing Another Song Boys" which speak to me rather personally.)

Everyone in the audience was like me, i.e., gushing ecstatically. There was deafening, roaring cheering/applause between each and every song. More standing ovations than you could count. I've never attended a concert where everybody in the crowd was this overjoyed. I would be impossibly-pressed to experience this same sense of communal jubilation at any point in my life.

Cohen seemed just as happy, and humbled. He was always removing his hat and bowing and would occasionally face the audience str8-on and he'd just be beaming. That was more than enough to bring some tears to the eyes. I'll NEVER see anything like that again.

For a guy that supposedly has (or had) a huge ego, it would seem that reputation has been foisted on him unwillingly. There was no arrogance. There was some tasteful self-deprecation. I'm not going to lie, LC is one of my favourite people ever, and the unfuckwithability of his persona(lity) came across very evidently.

I'll admit, some of Cohen's (later) stuff can seem kinda "abstract" on first listen, especially compared to his very intimate, organic early guitar stuff. You have a hard time reconciling the folky old stuff with the "synthy" 80s stuff. Your first impression may well be: "Okay, I suppose this is a decent song, but this is SO not the same Leonard Cohen I grew up with, i.e., 'The Songs Of Leonard Cohen' or 'Songs From a Room' or 'Songs of Love and Hate.' "

The good news is that you will eventually come to understand that Yes, this IS the same blessed Leonard Cohen. Live Recordings will hasten this realization, as the very clinical, inorganic sound of the Studio recordings does not really sound like music made by humans. At first. His "Live In London" DVD would also be of great utility, as you could actually see the magic that some of us were lucky enough to see first-hand, haw haw haw.

The band was ridiculous. World-class.

I hate to make generalizations, but I've noticed that songwriting skill does not always converge with songplaying skill. For example, LC was probably the least-technically-skilled musician on the stage (although damned if I can even come close to doing his signature 4-finger plucking of "Avalanche" or "The Stranger Song"), but I'm certain that these virtuosos could not write a song that stands the test of time as well as LC can. However, their-occasionally-flashy playing (I'm looking at you, Javier Mas) made for some blatant crowd-pleasing. Yet never did they forget who they were playing for/with. So I can't blame the sax player for dancing around like a dork. I would be, too.

I would like to make special mention of the female singers. Sharon Robinson has enjoyed a long working relationship with Cohen, having collaborated on many of the compositions for over 20 years. It was only appropriate, and a bit of icing-on-the-cake, that she joins the band for this tour. LC describes her as "incomparable." (He was exceedingly in awe of all the musicians, often bowing or even kneeling before them.) Robinson's incomparable talent is showcased on "Boogie Street", one of a few highlights from LC's "recent" album "Ten New Songs."

I'm also saving this paragraph for "The Sublime" Webb Sisters. I'd never heard of them before, and their voices are indeed angelic. Their rendition of "If It Be Your Will" was probably the official icing on the cake. LC stood by in the darkness and didn't sing a word while the Webb Sisters sang and played guitar and harp. (I.e., that stringed instrument which was a favourite of Harpo Marx.) Good God. I'm not going to lie and say my eyes were dry. "IIBYW" was a "fresh discovery" for me, as I wasn't overly familiar with this tune. The Webb Sisters made Immediate, Absolute Pwnage of it. Put this version on a mixtape for your so-called "lover."

Again, I have no business trying to describe a single second of this whole experience. I will be telling all the other people's grandkids about this one when I am old and grey.

And LC did a couple of "readings" of his poems over a subdued, melancholic keyboard piece. He could have done that all night.

What's becoming apparent to me is that LC has one of the best voices in history. In his latter years, his voice has gained a harrowing expressiveness and emotional depth that was not as evident as it was in the days before it was completely "wrecked" by cigarettes and alcohol.

His voice borders on the sensual, and is enough to get even me excited.

Well, I gotta go warm-up my version of "I'm Your Man". I am gonna seduce some lucky woman's shoes right off.

I've found myself asking myself the bold, fearless question of "In terms of The Net Effect, has Alcohol been a Good Thing or a Bad Thing in my life?" I do have a tendency to engage in All-Or-Nothing thinking many, many times a day, but this is one All-Or-Nothing Question that is really quite Insightful and Accurate.
Answer-Hint: Speaking only for myself, it has decidedly not done a world of good.

Back in The Day, one of my Favourite Shirts was an ungetawaywithable flannel shirt with the sleeves cut halfway off. I was making a pastiche to Garth Algar of Wayne's World. Note Well that this was well before the heyday of Larry The Cable Guy. I think I'd like to bring this look back, only this time have a Larry shirt in addition to a Garth shirt. THE RITE TO BARE ARMS.

Finally finished Silent Hill. (I wonder if there's any connexion between my playing this game, and having terrifying nightmares every single night. I have NOT been sleeping well lately.)

I'm not gonna lie. The highlight of the game is the whole damn Silent Hill Historical Museum. They could turn that into a whole spinoff game. And the critics'n'fans don't lie, the music/soundscapes for this game are nonpareil. These aural cues turn the innocent situation of standing in a shadowy, dim, burned-out, rotted hallway into a rather nightmarish experience. And when the soundtrack takes a more "musical" turn, e.g., at several points in the Hotel, it adds the slightest twist to pretty pedestrian themes, making them Completely Unsettling.



To top it all off, there are a couple str8-up actual Rock Songs. They sound sorta Pixies or Cure-ish and I wasn't expecting this sorta thing at all in this sort of game, but the songs fit surprisingly well, and are definitely quite infectious. Goddam Nips.



I just pir8ted the damn filez finally. The composer's name is Akira Yamaoka.

There's a decent Savage Love this week:

I'm a 32-year-old, very attractive, very fit SWM living in NYC. I'm well-read and well-spoken. I march to the beat of my own drum. Friends tell me that my personality is intense. I'm extremely idealistic, and I count myself as a romantic. I'm interested in an intense and consuming love affair with a woman. But friends tell me that my approach to courtship scares women off. I'm tired of fouling things up and making myself lonely. Yet, when a lady friend of mine suggested I spend a night out with her where she would act as my wingman, I recoiled. Prowling for random women in a bar doesn't fit my sense of romance. (emphasis by k.c.: the man of absolute power)

Should I consider counseling to try to tame my personality?

-Wild Horses Drag Me Away

Savage: It would help to know, WHDMA, what exactly you're doing—besides being all intensely romantic and extremely idealistic and physically fit and stuff—that scares women off. Without that info, it's difficult to advise you.

But I can do a little decoding for you: When friends say "your personality is intense," what they typically mean is "you are an asshole."

Commenters take it upon themselves to delve into possible "nuances", which, as we well know, Savage often glosses-over.

I have a bit of a weakness towards giving "nice guys" like Wild Horses the benefit of the doubt, simply because I enjoy some aspects of the whole "victorian, 19th century courtship" thing, and I am uncomfortable with some (ok, all) aspects of the "casual fun hookup barsex" thing.

But I'm thinking this guy is indeed a Nice Guy T.M., and demonstrates his density'n'desperation in self-identifying/labeling himself as being so "Nice". I was fortunate enough to only need 30 years to figure out that Self-ID'ing-As-"Nice" is not a good thing.

But I do also think that one can be "chill", "fun" and "have a sense of humour", without necessarily being in love with the idea of drunkenly sticking it in drunkards at the bar. (But only a Creepy Asshole With Distorted Thinking would even infer that this False Dichotomy is being implied in this article, OR that such a False Dichotomy is a reasonable, rational reflection of The Real World Experience.)

I've found a Solution that Works is to just be a fun, chill, not-overly-arrogant person, and, when, as will inevitably happen when you're so fun'n'chill, the drunk bar-girl is just about to allow your unprotected prick inside her, you simply say,

"sorry babe, but I don't really get-off to casual barsex. Besides, I have mad aids. You just got real close to getting UBERPWNED."

See! You can still be A Classic Asshole WITHOUT being "Creepy" or "Intense", or, until the last second at most, "Arrogant."

My advice to "Wild Horses" would be: "STOP LABELING YOURSELF! STOP LABELING YOURSELF!"

Anyhow. I couldn't not comment on this article because I, while entirely loath to "label" myself as an Creeper Nice Guy/Asshole, I Am Morbidly Fascinated in The Type:

"Waah waah waah! How come all these total douchebags are so popular with the ladies and I try not to be a misogynistic douchebag and I've never had any success with the ladies whatsoever?"

These Guys are actually even bigger douchebags than the very sensualist vulgarians they decry. The Nice Guys TM are narcissistic, obsessive, weird, arrogant, creepy, stalkerish, potentially abusive/rapist/throat-slitter, etc, and that's why they're 26,000,000 year-old virgins.

They basically need to be strung-out on HEROIN if they ever want to be Chill enough to not scare a woman off in under two weeks. Seconds. I mean.

My Advice To Nice Guy TMs: If you find a woman attractive, just throw yourself at her. It's less morally reprehensible to be a(n Attempted) Rapist than to be a passive doormat woman-worshipping Nice Guy TM!

STAR TREK

There's not much to say. I really needed a distraction and this has been probably the biggest-hyped movie since "watchmen" this year so far. Everybody who is anybody saw this the day it came out; the day BEFORE it came out. "Star Trek" undeniably ushers in the Season of Summer Action Blockbusters - "Terminator", "Transformers," "GI Joe". The Average Apathetic Theatre-Goer has actually gone to see this. I didn't want to be out of the loop, although I kinda was, having not seen it until a full 5 days after its release, and I did need some solid distraction'n'diversion.

The movie is ridiculously action-packed from beginning to end. I give it a solid thumbs-up for never really being boring. It gets at least another .5 Thumbs up for having a bearably tongue-in-cheek sense of humour.

The young man who plays Capt Kirk plays "BRASH" very well. I'm sure all the ladies in the audience were gushing straight through their nonexistent panties right in their tight assjeans. He was a total Rake. The kinda guy "All Women" yearn to be ravished by, and who Nice Guys TM would do wisely to model themselves after.

In real life, he'd be a huge jerkoff and I'd hate him. I kinda hated him in the movie. But, overall, I enjoyed him.

Spock was another prettyboy, a ready-made gusher for the prudes who still actually wear panties; or who like faggots like Jason Schwartzmann, Justin Long, Ben Gibbard, or Russell Brand.

There's not much else to say about the Movie. Eric Bana was solid. He does play a great Bad Guy. Am I the only Living Person who's seen "Chopper?" (Rhetorical) You'll get some good old-fashioned action-packed entertainment out of this one, without the excessive boredom that beleaguers so many movies.

I'll promise Y'all that the next post Will be better.
Till then, Keep Bein' Yourself, Because no-one else is gonna Do You better. And if people don't like You, that's their problem.

Bonus Leonard Cohen Song:

"Sing Another Song, Boys"

If You don't know this one, You should.

sesame chicken 'n' survival horror

There was/is this guy William Glasser who founded his own school of psychotherapy called "Reality Therapy". I like the name. It involves "choice theory". I really don't know the difference between Reality Therapy and, oh, say, Carl Rogers's Person-Centered Therapy, but I'm in no mood to do the research right now.

But I do recall that Glasser said something insightful about The Dangers Of Alcohol: that alcohol was triply pernicious because:

1. It is Mainstream Society's Drug-of-Choice

2. #1 is true because: alcohol gives people The Illusion of Being In Control

3. BUT, actually, it diminishes one's capacity for control.

I thought that was an astute observation, Because "control" is a Hell Of Multifaceted thing. I'd wager that many drinkers are drinking to gain Self-Control - "I'll be the life of the party! I'll say all the funniest things!"

But, actually, alcohol turns you into an embarrassing buffoon. You just don't feel nervous and awkward, even as you're making a Scene that is far more awkward than You being your sober, awkward self.

Still, I'm not gonna sit here and lie to people. I do enjoy the occasional cocktail. In fact, once in a while, I enjoy the privilege of Getting Raging Drunk.

That's my problem with AA-style Recovering Alcoholics. A lot of them seem to be taking it one day at a time, living in CONSTANT FEAR of falling off the wagon. Why not allow yourself a "mulligan" every now and then? It's kind of similar to Budgeting a Big Expense into your Spreadsheet: I think if you Prepare for an Event of Getting Raging Drunk, and then more-or-less Stick To Your Rules, then you can getwawaywith guilt-free, embarrassment-free Fun, and have very little to regret whilst you suffer the inevitable Biological hangover.

It's analogous to psychedelic drug-users who control the "set and setting" for their "trip." I don't think this is being an Anal Control Freak. I think it's being as smrt, mature, and responsible as one can possibly be given one's choosing to put poison in their body.

I would never want to Quit Drinking cold turkey, simply because I do honestly enjoy the feeling of being Raging Drunk. I can exercise CONTROL over when and where I do this, however.

Do you know some of the things REAL alcoholics do? You don't want to know. They do a lot of harrowing, terrifying, Real Alcoholic stuff on a regular basis. Which I don't do. On a regular basis. I'm not gonna say I've never done "hair-of-the-dog". I'm not gonna say I've never endangered my life and the lives of others. Or that I've never done anything I regretted. Or that I've never polished off a fifth of whiskey in one sitting. Or that I've never gone into work hung-over.

But I've never done any of these things as Regularly as a Real Alcoholic, and I certainly haven't done them recently.

Audience: "Wow. I've never seen someone so deeply in denial. What a textbook alcoholic. Now I'm gonna go GET DRUNK and HAVE SEX."

And You thought I was smug!

I went through a period somewhat recently where I was Losing My Edge. Losing Control. Drinking at the wrong places at the wrong times. This was no good for no one, and I'm glad I'm not really in that Period any more.

But I was just reminiscing about some of the Really Classic Times of getting raging drunk. They usually involved me playing music, playing a drinking game, having an exclusive few other people also getting raging drunk with me, "college parties", and/or making-out with girls.

So I still get raging drunk. Lately, though, it's been as part of a small group at the bar. And we drink Lite beer and objectify women and talk about "facefarting" and "poopnoses" a lot.

That's all fine and dandy, but.... we're still scarin' away the ladies.

It's not that men can't be drunk douchebags whilst they're around Teh Laydeez. There's a lot of dudes who are drunk douchebags around a lot of ladies. It's our lack of networking skills that's largely to blame. Plus we are really big douchebags. And I'm an especially arrogant douchebag. Always thinking I'm so much better and smarter than everyone. That kind of turns people off.

But at least I'm not as excruciating as some people. Recent examples:

1. When I saw the movie "Defiance" the other day, I was hoping for some peace and quiet. Nope. An ethnic man - a lone eagle - came in and sat in the row behind me. He started talking loudly on his phone in a language which kinda sounded like spanish but I don't think it was. It coulda been just about anything. Serbian maybe. People speak a lot of weird languages.

Then he proceeded to LAUGH AT EVERYTHING IN THE MOVIE. EVERYTHING. ABSOLUTELY EVERYTHING. Everything was a double-entrendre. A dead guy hanging from a beam with the sign "JEW LOVER" around his neck was funny. (OK, that was kinda funny.) And Lone Eagle would go "UH-OH!" whenever there was some Tension Rising. And he ate his popcorn very loudly, smacking his lips and breathing loudly. And he ate two - maybe three - bags of popcorn. X-tra large.

After a while it started to get a little funny. Then it crossed back over the line to excruciating, because, mental/developmental problem or not (spastic/autistic/sociopathic), I just wanted, ultimately, to watch the Dramatic War Movie in peace and quiet.

But, as I say, this wasn't a case of African-American Audience (tm). This was just an autistic guy being really weird. Still, excruciating. Overbearing. FRIENDSHIP OPENING GAMBIT FAIL.

2. A few weeks ago we were at the Public House getting Drunk off pitchers of Miller Lite, and, believe or not, I was actually being friendly and social, to the point where I was Talking With Strangers. There was a drunk 37-year-old Southern Man from Alabama sitting next to me and we started having Drunken Small Talk. It quickly took a turn for the worst as he became an obnoxious, overbearing boor who wouldn't stop talking, and then I got sucked-in to a game of pool with him, where he continued to be obnoxious, and I looked desperately for An Out. Jesus Christ.

3. I was sitting at my Employment Post and helping a 33-year old Latino-American man find some information. Some completely normal small-talk turned into a 45-minute SESSION in which he gave his life story as a military man (USMC) and proved himself to be the most arrogant, obnoxious, rude, disrespectful, misogynistic, homophobic, annoying person ever. I made my responses short and shorter, trying less-and-less opaquely to get him to go away. He wouldn't.

WHO SITS THERE TALKING SOMEBODY'S EAR OFF WHO OBVIOUSLY DOES NOT WANT TO BE TALKED TO?

Even I can "read cues" better than that!

Where and How the Hell do people like this Get Jobs?

I've been a bit bored by The Political lately, but, hell; I can't assume everybody else is.

Something about GM being bought by the Government. I read a couple phone-in editorials in the paper condemning the America-bashing Big Brother Obama and his thrust towards Socialist Big Government.

I'm not going to pretend to know all the little details like all the Joe Q Publics do, who make sure to do all their research before calling The Macomb Daily. I can only offer pseudo-insights, Captain Obvious Style.

While I lament not getting a Useful Degree, a few of my high-school cohorts did get Useful Degrees and are now working in The Auto Industry. That must really suck balls: actually having a useful degree and finding out your whole damn INDUSTRY is tanking.

And it's not just manufacturing and engineering. It's advertising and marketing and finance and just about everything in Automation Alley, because it's all Intimately Intertwined to the tanking auto industry.

Hell. It's a crap shoot. It's getting to the point where it's just as economically-reasonable to become an ARTIST.

But then you'd lose any claim to respect.

There was an interesting talk on Fresh Air with this Boston Globe writer about The Worth of Intellectuals. Because, in today's Tuff World, all those Literature-Lovin' PhD's seem especially Useless. But Fuck that. I don't think it's useless. Maybe because I know some real good kids in the field, and I don't want them getting hosed. (Or competing with me for those coveted Retail Sales Jobs, for that matter, harharhar.)

All I know is, I never cared for Ideas enough to make a Career out of 'em. I do it all for The Nookie, You see.

I'll be real happy when my Movin and Shakin classes start. At least then I can claim to be a bit more useful. I'm excited to PWN the classes. To really suck the instructors' dicks off. After the first big assignment, they'll be coming to ME and saying "dayum, you're really good at this. I know some people who could really use you for a job."

And then I'll say "Thank you," bone up on my interview skills, get a better-paying job, and, for the coup de grace, try to sweet-talk my way into paying 150 dollars a month to rent out somebody's closet. Then I will Subvert The Closet by bringing girls in there to Heterosexually Bone Down Hard.

Visualization: When I'm mindful enough to remember, I like to use the "stop button" and "next track button" Visualization Technique. The initial Triggering thought usually involves some paranoid variation on the combined themes of "women", "nostalgia" and "professional success." Press stop, then press "next track"; which could be anything, but hopefully something more constructive. (see "fried chicken" topic later.) The more sensory details you can add to the visualization, the better. E.g., I like to see my finger pushing an actual button, and THEN I imagine the "whirring" noise made by skipping to the "next track." The "whirring" is crucial.

My Girlfriend Amanda Marcotte recently wrote an electrifying Blog on Morality and Religion. I.e., that religion is absolutely not necessary for morality. Indeed, religion may well be anti-moral, as it Imposes morality From Without - in a very Authoritarian manner, no less - and Religion presupposes that humans cannot be inherently capable of morality by their own free will. It "implies" that humans cannot "freely choose to do good" without a Stern God brandishing the threat of Eternal Soul Torture. (ridiculous ungettable Opeth reference ftw)

Again, nothing new here, but I love it when Bloggers articulate hot shit in a nice, neat, pretty little Package. I'm personally too Angry about this sort of stuff to write anything truly profound.

And, personally, I much prefer being sledgehammered by Marcotte's message than I do to being sledgehammered by wingnuts' message that we are all evil hellbound animals but for the saving grace of god. That's even more misanthropic than my own atheistic brand of human-hating.

Yeah, we're mostly evil animals, but there is a minority of good and smart people (like myself haha) who try to behave morally because to do so is its own (albeit egotistic) reward.

Uh-Oh. This just in. I'm receiving one of those periodic Channelings From Mr. Weiss:

I would like to "get revenge on women", but I wouldn't want to "get revenge" on a woman who doesn't deserve it. In other words, I would feel terrible if I corrupted an "innocent", "angelic", "pure" young girl. In other words, I want to break a heartbreaker's heart.

I pride myself on my nonpareil skeell of dishing out verbal abuse. My goal concerning Relationships With Women is to utterly emotionally annihiliate the woman. If she doesn't require YEARS OF THERAPY after I'm done with her, then I haven't done my job. I want to permanently scar Them. Trauma. Give Them dumptrucks of baggage.

What A Nice Guy (tm) !

What a Moral Guy (tm) !

Oh, wait, there's more. This time Mr Weiss has a HANGOVER:

this is how we type how we type how we type how we type how we type goodness gracious I could eat 6 million sesame chickens RIGHT NOW, if i were a chicken I would be a sesame chicken, absolutely a fried chicken, FRIED CHICKEN, something about that just rolls off the tongue, i have a hardon for FC, FC rivals even x-lovers, although all the more current and ongoing, a lifelong relationship, gimme some FC with some mashed potaters, smothered in gravy, good golly miss molly, i just can't stand the wait. this is cruel and unusual torture.

Jesus Christ Almighty.


How come some depictions of Maslow's "heirarchy of needs" have "Sex" in there, and some don't? I do find it hard to believe that such an extravagance could ever possibly be on par with food and shelter and all that.

You ever get drunk on a Wednesday night and then you come home and drink a "deuce-deuce" while getting absolutely PWNED in Final Fantasy X while listening to Bob Dylan excessively loud and then your mother knocks on your door and scolds you in a disappointed stern voice because you only ever listen to music when you're Obviously Drunk?

Ahhhh: the joys of being Malemployed in Recession-era Michigan.

But that's ok, because taking one accounting class and one business class are going to make me eminently more marketable OVERNIGHT, and will result in me IMMEDIATELY finding a new job in which my pay rate increases EXPONENTIALLY.

I never had a "normal" adolescence. I don't think this can ever be a valid excuse for being a fuck-up as an adult, however. It is a very valid excuse for trying to ""re"-claim" one's adolescence with 20-year old girls. However.

I like to deprecate myself as a "complete and utter failure with women", but the fact stands that I have indeed been quite successful with women. I hate to be a boastful braggart, but there have been times where ridiculously, ungetawaywithably cute young women were throwing themselves at me, to the extent that I even achieved the fabled, vaunted genital erection.

But add enough time, though, and sometimes I actually do believe that I have been "a complete and utter failure with women." But it's just not true.

Does anybody really believe that Kentucky GRILLED Chicken is really going to take off? Am I the only sane person on this planet?

I love fried chicken, and not just because I fetishize The Negro Mystique. I stand by my belief that Fried Chicken is, and always will be, one of my favourite foods. It simply tastes THAT damn good. I even just like the sound of the words*. Once I become an Independent Man with my own kitchen, I can assure you I'll be cooking Fried Chicken on a very regular basis. There's absolutely no reason I shouldn't have my own Original Recipe. Hell. I'll have Fried Chicken PARTIES.

Did you know that John Wayne Gacy's Final Meal before his execution was KFC?

Like any other red-blooded, non-virgin amerikkkan gamblin' man, I also enjoy me some Pad Thai. I usually go with Beef Pad Thai, not chicken, however. Pork is also a healthy alternative.

Here's a blast from the past: DINERSTY. That word either means everything to you, or it means nothing. This was a chinese restaurant in ann arbor which closed over three years ago, and I've been searching vainly ever since for anything to approximate the experience. I don't think I ever will. But dear god, I wish I could go back to DINERSTY just one more time.

What's even the point of having a Pseudonym if the cover of the book says "blabla WRITING AS blabla"? (Only Sane Person II)

Eating disorders are really fascinating. They really do exist. I had a pseudo-proto-faux-relationshit once with a woman who was Bulimic. Or at least I insist she was Bulimic. Also, a very skinny young woman just turned in a Dieting book. There's only one category of people that ever needs to "diet", and it's absolutely not Skinny Girls, ya feel me? But that's the Tragedy of Eating Disorders and the Body Dysmorphic Disorder that underpins them.

Diets are retarded merely in principle alone. You can trust me: I went from being a ragingly overweight slob to being a medically-normal-weighted person, simply because I adjusted my Calorie Intake appropriately, and became slightly less sedentary. And I have not regained the weight because I do not overgorge Calorie-Laden foods so much any more.

In normal, workaday amerikkkan society, women are not treated, nor do they behave, as anything but Mere Fuckholes. There's only one thing women are good for. This is understood as the law - taken for granted - and neither men nor women question it. It's not always an "active" brand of misogyny.

It is, however, kinda superficial and sad. You hear stories - guys bragging - about all the "fun" they have "gettin' it wet" inside "easy, good-looking" Young Girls who are frequently "fucked-up" on benzodiapezenes and other consciousness-numbing drugs. Imho, I don't think this is anything to BOAST about. To the contrary - It's kinda sad for all parties involved. If some "xanxed-out Slut" were throwing herself at me, I'd be a little concerned for my safety, not to mention hers. And I certainly wouldn't see the woman as having alot of "potential". But it seems like this type of behaviour is simply de rigeur for the ~20ish age group. You do grow out of it.


But you can't Opt Out of it, because we live in a Schmatriachy.

The reality is, I've had the utmost Culture Shock for the past 3 years; Culture Shock which is so profound that I never remember it's there. I still haven't gotten used to the cruel, harsh, disappointing, disillusioning Real World. Sure, drunk girls had thrown themselves at me in college, but at least they had hopes and dreams and brains and weren't preggers by age 21.

This is So obviously all a Matter of Socioeconomic Class; but that doesn't explain it away. I don't care what kind of Matter it is, I just care that is IS a Matter, and that it has suffocated all of my Libido.

When a community's SocioEconomicStatus/Privilege limits one's Life Options, men react by putting a shitton of emphasis on The Hedonistic (i.e., using women only-as-Mere Fuckholes); for their part, women put shitton of emphasis on using themselves only-as-Walking Wombs. (Lack of) Monay, and the Oppressive Environment, limit one from any other forms of Existential Expression - i.e., developing intellectually, or becoming an "interesting" person (at least according-to-bourgeois-standards of Interestingness).

You cannot put the "blame" on women. Sirens will scream the "Obvious Misogynist: Red Alert!" if you assign blame to the mythical, platonic, quintessential "Women." Both men and women are shackled by the same self-perpetuating cycle of Socioeconomic Hopelessness.

Men want a deeper satisfaction to their meaningless lives, and they can only do that through hedonistic, sensualistic drugs, sex, gambling, violence, etc. Women too want deeper satisfaction, and they can only do that through becoming mothers. Men and women do have similar motivations, but the way these motivations are borne out are at TOTAL cross-purposes. Hence, Men and Women cannot possibly coexist peacefully. They are born to be At War.

Yes, it's sad, but what's sadder is that there's no way out of it for people who want to see a way out of it.

So, as a man, I can either "get it wet" and stop complaining, or don't, and not. But that won't stop me from being bitter about internalizing bourgeois standards of "interestingness" and "date-ability" regarding women: "Oh, you have to be Educated. Oh, you have to want a Career. Oh, you have to not be an Oxycontin Whore. Oh, you can't have had 3 kids by the age of 20." That's just not how a lot of people are in the Real World. Talk About Unreasonable Demands! (ungetawaywithable Space Ghost reference)

So, time to slip some cocktail waitresses some Cow Tranquilizers, and Do Some Good.

I think we owe it to our Resident Men's Rights Adovcate Mr Weiss to have Him weigh-in on this conversation:

One of the reasons I don't pull is because I'm not "masculine" enough. (And that I'm an arrogant, narcissistic, Merge-Thirsty Potential Abuser. cough) "Women" don't want an androgynous man who bends the gender rules. Yeah, I do some very masculine things, like drinking and farting a lot, but, I'm not sufficiently outwardly masculine in terms of a social-power orientation - i.e., become more extraverted, more "cocky/funny", more like a salesman or politician or (talkative) Man of Absolute Power. You gotta talk, talk, talk, and talk the right way.

Thanks for sharing, Mr. Weiss.
Anyway, I blame the Captains of Industry and Politics for transforming the probably-positive qualities of Intelligence and Individuality into Bourgeois Symbols, and for reducing the rest of the world into faceless, ugly, uninteresting Animals. It's because of them (the Captains) that your average Hoi Polloi person is less interesting than a damn video game. That's why a lot of young men Who Are Smrt play a lot of video games and don't pull.

Some people would argue that it's inarguable that Humans Are Nothing More Than Animals, so we shouldn't delude ourselves by trying to argue there's something "noble" about humans compared to, say, any given nonsentient unicellular organism.

Yes, I agree that many humans are no more noble than filthy animals, but some of them, in my mind at least, are A Little Better Than That. These are often the people who Get Me Off, socially and/or otherwise. Few and Far Between.

Since I am normally SO pathologically pessimistic, it only logically follows that I Should not Drink as much as Normal, Happy People. Because of my Horrendously Pessimistic Predisposition, I'm grumpy enough without alcohol.

Yet because the immediate experience of drinking - often encompassing telling funny stories and playing pool and etc, is so fun and "freeing" (although really, as I said far above, a loss of control), then the Drinker will disregard The Aftermath every time for that brief sense of Instant Gratification. It's very Sensualistic - like sex for people who do not have sex.




Whatever. It's long past time to get off this train.




I'm glad to see I'm not the Only Idiot In The World who thinks he/she's a Photoshop Comedian:




SMOKIN' BARRY. You know you love 'im.


I was conspiring with The Spreadsheet lately, and convinced myself to buy "Vice City" and "Silent Hill 2", as research suggested they would be well worth-it.

Well, SH2 has sucessfully diverted me from Final Fantasy X, and it's even keeping me away from starting GTA:VC.




I'm about 14 hours into the game right now, and can confidently say I got my $14 worth. It's like 7 Actually-Scary movies rolled into one. And You're the star.

The Fear takes pages from both J-Horror and David Lynch. I don't need to tell you how I feel about that combination.

The game is best enjoyed - naturally - alone, in the cover of night. One thing Gamers might not like is that there's so much damn fog and/or darkness, that you really just can't See anything. Then again, you don't have to be a Hardc0re gamer to see that SH2 kinda falls under the genre of "survival horror", or to grasp the fundamentals of Survival Horror itself. Different people like different kinds of horror movies.

And, when it comes down to brass tacks, I view SH/survival horror on a Spectrum of Storytelling alongside with - and comparable TO - movies. Except possibly more immediately enjoyable, because you get the experience of living in and being an active participant in That World for many hours.

In reference to the J-Horror, SH uses the "sound not sight" approach to scary, where lurching shrouds groaning in the fog and the shadows are scarier than Jason-In-Your-Face with Tha Reet Reet. But, of course, YMMV.

But the Sights themselves are very well-done, too, with some of the interiors giving new meaning to the word "dilapidated." I'm noticing some similarities with movies like Se7en. But even more ridiculous.

And as you finally start to get the momentum going, the story/game indeed takes some Left Turns and Ups the Ante as you Crescendo through the Nightmarish, Hellish Abyss o' Horror.

And the way it plays with the way Reality and Identity are perceived is starting to make me think that somebody actually could make a Damn Good Game out of "Mulholland Dr."

And some of those monsters are just Str8 Up Fucked Up. The Torso Monster? Pyramid Head? I wonder if the developers have even worse nightmares than I do. Indeed, it's not out of the realm of possibility that this game would inspire some of my own nightmares. It's that nicely-done.

So I'm giving this the unreserved 2 Thumbs Up. Yeah, it's not PERFECT, but, damn, have I been getting waaaaaaay more enjoyment out of Video Games lately rather than movies. I've been kicking myself that I hadn't started doing this yearrrs ago.

Play more video games, watch less movies. That's my damn ADVICE O' The post.


Your Song O' The Post is:

I'M YOUR MAN



It's ridiculous. Back in the day, when all the Cool Kids listened to Cohen and I used him to seduce Bourgeois girls, we only ever listened to his old guitar-pickin' stuff. The first time I heard the overproduced bursts of Synthpop in his mid-to-late career, I thought it sounded obnoxious. It still sounds obnoxious, although now I've grown to luvvv it. And it shows absolutely no dimunition of his songwriting talents.

Get back at me in a few years and just TRY to tell me I'm wrong.



HAVE A NICE DAY, and, if you are fortunate to have a mother who is not dead or abusive, be sure to buy her dinner or something this sunday.



________
* ("What Would David D. Burns, M.D. Do?": when you find yourself overcome by "All-Or-Nothing Thinking" or "Jumping to Conclusions" or another Cognitive Distortion, just repeat the mantra "FRIED CHICKEN. FRIED CHICKEN." to yourself. These are powerful positive words. Then go eat some fried chicken. Talk about nature's Prozac!)