AD ASTRA PER ASPERA
It has been quite some time since I have had the kind of visceral experience that only the town of Lawrence has to offer. I know that moving into Overland Park was the best financial decision that I could have made, but it is safe to say that I miss living in Lawrence. There is something to be said for downing a bunch of whiskey with two of your closest friends, sneaking beer out of the bar and running from rooftop to rooftop above Mass. Street. Sadly, I fear that those nights have long since passed. My friends no longer call Lawrence home, and there is very little to tie us to the town altogether. Don't get me wrong. I have a very good time with my new friends in Kansas City, and there is much fun to be had here. However, Lawrence has a certain panache; A certain guttural attraction that knows no bounds. It is hard to pin down, but I certainly miss it. On several occasions I narrowly avoided arrest, assault, alcohol poisoning, or some other situation of discontent. During one such incident, the driver of a Jeep Cherokee in front of me sprayed my windshield with his washer fluid, simply because he thought I was following him too closely. I responded by calmly pulling alongside him and motioning for him to roll down his window. Upon doing this, I hurled the orange juice that I had in my car through his open window, drenching him with a pulpy orange mess. Needless to say, a short car chase ensued, but his bulky Jeep was no match for my nimble monument to German engineering. Was my reaction a bit rash? Perhaps, but that fucker had it coming. His sideways visor and the Dave Matthews Band sticker on his rear windshield convinced me of that much. Fuck that guy.
Lawrence itself is an enigma. It is the only town in all of Kansas to consistently vote Democrat. It presents itself as a progressive environment, yet there are many reasons why it fails to live up to that standard. It is expanding in all directions, and the new construction is very reminiscent of Johnson County. The town has implemented a smoking ban that mandates that bars and restaurants are strict smoke free environments. For such a progressive town, It sure presumes a lot. More legislation insists that a certain percentage of a businesses profit must come from food sales, if it is to be allowed a liquor license. This is an effort to curb the ever growing number of bars in the downtown area. Both of these mandates take power away from the small business owner, and keeps them from deciding how to run their own business. Yet, in spite of its faults, Lawrence remains to provide all of its inhabitants and patrons with a blast of a time. Even if you don't get your jollies from hiding from police officers behind air conditioning units like me, there are plenty of other, more legal means of entertainment. The bar scene is top notch, and because of this, many many great bands are drawn to this little corner of earth. There is something in this town for people from all walks of life, and for being in the middle of the bible belt, it isn't half bad. I wouldn't mind living there again, but for the time being, it is not so bad Living in Kansas City. Even though the experiences that I have had here are pale in comparison to the debauchery and sinister glee that Lawrence provides, it is just a short jaunt down K-10, which is close enough to experience on any given night.
Thursday, March 08, 2007
Monday, March 05, 2007
STAGNATION
Those of you that know me also know that I am in a transitional period in my life. Everything around me is changing at a pace that is becoming rather difficult to keep up with. This is happening on a personal, social and even global scale. Friends that I have known for years are graduating, moving to far off lands, getting worthwhile jobs, getting married, getting pregnant, and otherwise perpetuating the cycle of human life. The world is changing as well. Why is this so difficult for me to partake in? For years, I have been dreading this transition. I adopted an apathetic and sometimes morose attitude towards my own future. I felt that there was little for me to look forward to. I think that it played a rather large role in my inability to muster the stones to graduate from The University of Kansas. And only now, as my graduation seems to be an inevitability, am I realizing that I have payed a price. My fear induced apathy has caused life to pass me by. It hasn't passed completely, thankfully, but I have put myself into a position of distinct disadvantage. I have lost friendships, opportunities, and potential love with my ineffectual disregard for the changes going on around me. I know that there are many people that may not even have an inkling of what they would like to do with themselves. But I ask you which is worse; a person that truthfully does not know the path they would like to take, or a one that knows what they want out of life, but lacks the proactivity, ambition, or gumption to achieve it? While I must admit that it is rather refreshing to see this in type, even if only to have a concrete perception of what is actually wrong with me, I have done little to change this current trend. I suppose graduation is a large step in the right direction, but what is next? In this world, very little is certain. It is a dark and politically correct age that we have entered, and much to my own chagrin, I fear that it is far from over. As a nation, we are burning bridges faster than we can cross them. There is no common ground. No compromise. I'd like to say that I have turned over a new leaf, and that everything will turn out splendidly in the long run, but I suppose that only time will tell. Ask me in six months.
Those of you that know me also know that I am in a transitional period in my life. Everything around me is changing at a pace that is becoming rather difficult to keep up with. This is happening on a personal, social and even global scale. Friends that I have known for years are graduating, moving to far off lands, getting worthwhile jobs, getting married, getting pregnant, and otherwise perpetuating the cycle of human life. The world is changing as well. Why is this so difficult for me to partake in? For years, I have been dreading this transition. I adopted an apathetic and sometimes morose attitude towards my own future. I felt that there was little for me to look forward to. I think that it played a rather large role in my inability to muster the stones to graduate from The University of Kansas. And only now, as my graduation seems to be an inevitability, am I realizing that I have payed a price. My fear induced apathy has caused life to pass me by. It hasn't passed completely, thankfully, but I have put myself into a position of distinct disadvantage. I have lost friendships, opportunities, and potential love with my ineffectual disregard for the changes going on around me. I know that there are many people that may not even have an inkling of what they would like to do with themselves. But I ask you which is worse; a person that truthfully does not know the path they would like to take, or a one that knows what they want out of life, but lacks the proactivity, ambition, or gumption to achieve it? While I must admit that it is rather refreshing to see this in type, even if only to have a concrete perception of what is actually wrong with me, I have done little to change this current trend. I suppose graduation is a large step in the right direction, but what is next? In this world, very little is certain. It is a dark and politically correct age that we have entered, and much to my own chagrin, I fear that it is far from over. As a nation, we are burning bridges faster than we can cross them. There is no common ground. No compromise. I'd like to say that I have turned over a new leaf, and that everything will turn out splendidly in the long run, but I suppose that only time will tell. Ask me in six months.
Sunday, February 25, 2007
PARTY ETIQUETTE: AN IN DEPTH LOOK INTO THE SEEDY UNDERBELLY OF HAVING FUN.
In order to maximize the fun for all persons involved in throwing or attending any given house party, there are a few rules and guidelines that should be addressed. Some are merely suggestions that may aid a person with their partygoing experience. These rules and guidelines may inhibit a few individuals from acting the way they normally would, but the overall result would be a much happier event for everyone involved. Let's get started.
Turn off your cell phone. This may seem like an odd request, but I simply cannot stress this enough. Booze and cell phones simply do not mix. This also applies to any other communication device. Drunken phone calls, emails, text messages, or instant messages usually serve little to no purpose, and more often than not, they will come back to bite you in the ass the next day. When you wake up the next morning, with vomit encrusted on your cheek, and you stumble over to your phone with a taste in your mouth like a cat shit in it while you were sleeping, seeing that you thoroughly embarrassed yourself by text messaging your ex 75 times doesn't help the situation.
Make a plan and stick to it. I know this may seem like a no brainer, but someone fucks this one up every time. Collaborate with friends, make plans, designate drivers, and follow through. Nine times out of ten, someone doesn't plan, and ends up crashing on the couch in the house of a person they don't know because they drove, and then drank too much, or because a friend left them high and dry without a ride. It isn't rocket science! If you're going to drink, don't drive! If you do drive, and you bring people, make sure they have a ride home!
Buy your booze ahead of time. As a sick and fucked up rule, liquor stores generally close before house parties really get started. Take this into account! After the first instance of being shit out of luck without anything to drink, no one should make this mistake again. If by some stroke of idiocy or bad luck, you do end up at a house party without anything with which to imbibe, don't fucking steal from people. If you have friends at the party, more often than not, they'll likely provide you with a little something. If you dont have friends, too bad, so sad. You might just have to go one night without anything to drink. Tragic, I know. There are few things in the world that I can tolerate less than thieves. I'm sure that most people that steal alcohol are normally good natured people that would never steal from anyone, let alone their friends. I don't know what it is about a person's desire to drink or just the house party atmosphere that makes a person think that it is alright to take the provisions that other people have paid for. One way to curb alcohol theft is making an example of those that perpetrate these heinous malfeasances by exposing them. Public humiliation may be the only way to show these people that what their doing is wrong. Sure, they may think they are only taking one beer or one shot, but those beers and shots add up. Even without taking into account the principles involved in stealing, taking a persons beer decreases the potential amount of fun (or vomiting) for the person that actually took the time to do things right. I could go further into the world of alcohol etiquette, but this essay serves as an all encompassing look into the house party dynamic, and not simply an introspective account of drinking itself.
Now lets move onto the actual party itself. Some of these guidelines may seem self explanatory, but if people didn't break them, I wouldnt be writing about them.
First and most importantly, KEEP YOUR FUCKING HANDS TO YOURSELF. People wonder why their parties turn into complete weinerfests. I'll bet I know why that happens. It's because when women do show up at these parties, they are groped, grabbed, prodded, violated, pushed, shoved, and degraded until they decide they don't want to come to the next party. It is really quite simple. If a woman doesn't know you, or doesn't want you to touch her, it's probably a dick move to grab her ass as she walks by. It's common courtesy. If a girl is considerably drunk, don't take advantage of her! Believe me. If you dont alienate women, they are more likely to show up and have a good time. This increases the men's chances of getting laid. It's the law of diminishing marginal utility. the more women at the party, the less you feel like there should be more women at the party. I know this is far too much to ask for some people, but I'm willing to bet these people wouldn't be getting any in the first place.
Leave politics at the door. Come to a party with an open mind. In any cross section of society, there will always be people with differing opinions. I will never understand why people wait until they are in an altered state of consciousness to talk about in depth intelligent topics that require thought and concentration. Attend parties to enjoy yourself, and not to bicker about evolution, religion, or politics. Catch up with friends you havent seen in a while. Dance. Listen to music. People watch. Eat, drink, and be merry.
Avoid former lovers. This proves to be exceedingly difficult in cases in which the ex lovers spend time in the same social circle. If you know ahead of time that the person you've been pining over for months is going to be at the party ahead of time, you might want to sit this one out, or at least refrain from drinking to the point of embarrassment. This serves to eliminate a lot of potential drama.
Act fairly professional. Parties are times for unwinding, and having fun with friends. This usually entails drinking, which is perfectly acceptable. However, drinking, acting like a total and complete fuckhead, vomiting, and forcing others to take care of you keeps others from being able to unwind and have a good time. No one likes to babysit. Also, acting like a belligerent, bellicose, bumbling fool is quite unbecoming. You are not likely to make many friends, if you are the one falling into people and knocking them over, yelling over everyone elses voice, and vomiting in the yard. Clean up after yourself. Everyone is guilty of this. Don't leave that beer bottle on the coffee table. Find a trash can. If you spill something, notify the homeowner and then clean it up. There really isn't much else to say about this one. Act like an adult.
Basically, it all boils down to the golden rule. Treat others like you would like to be treated. It applies in almost all of the aforementioned situations. So now I post this here, like Martin Luther nailing his 95 theses to the doors of the Wittenburg Castle Church. Its up to you now. Take it and run with it. Change comes gradually. Together we can work towards a better future.
In order to maximize the fun for all persons involved in throwing or attending any given house party, there are a few rules and guidelines that should be addressed. Some are merely suggestions that may aid a person with their partygoing experience. These rules and guidelines may inhibit a few individuals from acting the way they normally would, but the overall result would be a much happier event for everyone involved. Let's get started.
Turn off your cell phone. This may seem like an odd request, but I simply cannot stress this enough. Booze and cell phones simply do not mix. This also applies to any other communication device. Drunken phone calls, emails, text messages, or instant messages usually serve little to no purpose, and more often than not, they will come back to bite you in the ass the next day. When you wake up the next morning, with vomit encrusted on your cheek, and you stumble over to your phone with a taste in your mouth like a cat shit in it while you were sleeping, seeing that you thoroughly embarrassed yourself by text messaging your ex 75 times doesn't help the situation.
Make a plan and stick to it. I know this may seem like a no brainer, but someone fucks this one up every time. Collaborate with friends, make plans, designate drivers, and follow through. Nine times out of ten, someone doesn't plan, and ends up crashing on the couch in the house of a person they don't know because they drove, and then drank too much, or because a friend left them high and dry without a ride. It isn't rocket science! If you're going to drink, don't drive! If you do drive, and you bring people, make sure they have a ride home!
Buy your booze ahead of time. As a sick and fucked up rule, liquor stores generally close before house parties really get started. Take this into account! After the first instance of being shit out of luck without anything to drink, no one should make this mistake again. If by some stroke of idiocy or bad luck, you do end up at a house party without anything with which to imbibe, don't fucking steal from people. If you have friends at the party, more often than not, they'll likely provide you with a little something. If you dont have friends, too bad, so sad. You might just have to go one night without anything to drink. Tragic, I know. There are few things in the world that I can tolerate less than thieves. I'm sure that most people that steal alcohol are normally good natured people that would never steal from anyone, let alone their friends. I don't know what it is about a person's desire to drink or just the house party atmosphere that makes a person think that it is alright to take the provisions that other people have paid for. One way to curb alcohol theft is making an example of those that perpetrate these heinous malfeasances by exposing them. Public humiliation may be the only way to show these people that what their doing is wrong. Sure, they may think they are only taking one beer or one shot, but those beers and shots add up. Even without taking into account the principles involved in stealing, taking a persons beer decreases the potential amount of fun (or vomiting) for the person that actually took the time to do things right. I could go further into the world of alcohol etiquette, but this essay serves as an all encompassing look into the house party dynamic, and not simply an introspective account of drinking itself.
Now lets move onto the actual party itself. Some of these guidelines may seem self explanatory, but if people didn't break them, I wouldnt be writing about them.
First and most importantly, KEEP YOUR FUCKING HANDS TO YOURSELF. People wonder why their parties turn into complete weinerfests. I'll bet I know why that happens. It's because when women do show up at these parties, they are groped, grabbed, prodded, violated, pushed, shoved, and degraded until they decide they don't want to come to the next party. It is really quite simple. If a woman doesn't know you, or doesn't want you to touch her, it's probably a dick move to grab her ass as she walks by. It's common courtesy. If a girl is considerably drunk, don't take advantage of her! Believe me. If you dont alienate women, they are more likely to show up and have a good time. This increases the men's chances of getting laid. It's the law of diminishing marginal utility. the more women at the party, the less you feel like there should be more women at the party. I know this is far too much to ask for some people, but I'm willing to bet these people wouldn't be getting any in the first place.
Leave politics at the door. Come to a party with an open mind. In any cross section of society, there will always be people with differing opinions. I will never understand why people wait until they are in an altered state of consciousness to talk about in depth intelligent topics that require thought and concentration. Attend parties to enjoy yourself, and not to bicker about evolution, religion, or politics. Catch up with friends you havent seen in a while. Dance. Listen to music. People watch. Eat, drink, and be merry.
Avoid former lovers. This proves to be exceedingly difficult in cases in which the ex lovers spend time in the same social circle. If you know ahead of time that the person you've been pining over for months is going to be at the party ahead of time, you might want to sit this one out, or at least refrain from drinking to the point of embarrassment. This serves to eliminate a lot of potential drama.
Act fairly professional. Parties are times for unwinding, and having fun with friends. This usually entails drinking, which is perfectly acceptable. However, drinking, acting like a total and complete fuckhead, vomiting, and forcing others to take care of you keeps others from being able to unwind and have a good time. No one likes to babysit. Also, acting like a belligerent, bellicose, bumbling fool is quite unbecoming. You are not likely to make many friends, if you are the one falling into people and knocking them over, yelling over everyone elses voice, and vomiting in the yard. Clean up after yourself. Everyone is guilty of this. Don't leave that beer bottle on the coffee table. Find a trash can. If you spill something, notify the homeowner and then clean it up. There really isn't much else to say about this one. Act like an adult.
Basically, it all boils down to the golden rule. Treat others like you would like to be treated. It applies in almost all of the aforementioned situations. So now I post this here, like Martin Luther nailing his 95 theses to the doors of the Wittenburg Castle Church. Its up to you now. Take it and run with it. Change comes gradually. Together we can work towards a better future.
Wednesday, February 21, 2007
TONSTICALS
Written June 1, 2005
I had my tonsils out, right after I got through with finals. I can't say i recommend the procedure. After the surgery, while I was laying in the hospital bed, still all fucked up from the anesthesia, the doctor comes in with my left tonsil in a jar. He told me it was the biggest one he had seen in five years. From what i remember, taking into account the state of mind i was in, my tonsil was roughly the size and shape of a testical. A bloody lump that they cut out of me with a fucking knife! How is that the preferred method of treatment? Isn't there some sort of salve or holistic healing method that would help me out with chronic tonsilitis? Anyway, the recovery period for an adult tonisillectomy is two fucking weeks. Two weeks of being incapacitated during the short span of time that I have between semesters. I was on liquid Lortab and amoxicillin, and it still fucking killed me. Sidenote: When you've just had your tonsils out, the last thing anyone can say to you to make you feel better is "Well, now you get all the ice cream you want!" The ice cream is not some cureall for a gaping hole on the inside of your neck. In fact, the doctor told me not to eat ice cream because of the extreme temperature shift or some shit.
Oh yeah. I also had this wedding to attend. Not just attend, actually. I was a groomsman. The groom was a friend that I have known my whole life. Anyway, before the ceremony, all of the attendants went downstairs to the bar and ordered shots. I didn't think it would be a good idea to dowse the open sores in my throat with tequila, so I came up with the bright idea of doing a shot of my liquid Lortab. Turns out, drinking 2 ounces of codeine and then standing up for a long period of time is a bad idea. I bowed my head for a prayer in the middle of the ceremony, and when I lifted my head afterwards, I blacked out. All I remember is the sound my hard soles made on the wood floor and my head hitting the ground. When i came to, all I saw was the groom with a big grin on his face. Unfortunately, noone got it on video. At least it was entertaining. Hell, if it had been someone else, I would have thought it was a riot.
Summation: Painkillers are fun, but not fun enough to justify major oral surgery.
Written June 1, 2005
I had my tonsils out, right after I got through with finals. I can't say i recommend the procedure. After the surgery, while I was laying in the hospital bed, still all fucked up from the anesthesia, the doctor comes in with my left tonsil in a jar. He told me it was the biggest one he had seen in five years. From what i remember, taking into account the state of mind i was in, my tonsil was roughly the size and shape of a testical. A bloody lump that they cut out of me with a fucking knife! How is that the preferred method of treatment? Isn't there some sort of salve or holistic healing method that would help me out with chronic tonsilitis? Anyway, the recovery period for an adult tonisillectomy is two fucking weeks. Two weeks of being incapacitated during the short span of time that I have between semesters. I was on liquid Lortab and amoxicillin, and it still fucking killed me. Sidenote: When you've just had your tonsils out, the last thing anyone can say to you to make you feel better is "Well, now you get all the ice cream you want!" The ice cream is not some cureall for a gaping hole on the inside of your neck. In fact, the doctor told me not to eat ice cream because of the extreme temperature shift or some shit.
Oh yeah. I also had this wedding to attend. Not just attend, actually. I was a groomsman. The groom was a friend that I have known my whole life. Anyway, before the ceremony, all of the attendants went downstairs to the bar and ordered shots. I didn't think it would be a good idea to dowse the open sores in my throat with tequila, so I came up with the bright idea of doing a shot of my liquid Lortab. Turns out, drinking 2 ounces of codeine and then standing up for a long period of time is a bad idea. I bowed my head for a prayer in the middle of the ceremony, and when I lifted my head afterwards, I blacked out. All I remember is the sound my hard soles made on the wood floor and my head hitting the ground. When i came to, all I saw was the groom with a big grin on his face. Unfortunately, noone got it on video. At least it was entertaining. Hell, if it had been someone else, I would have thought it was a riot.
Summation: Painkillers are fun, but not fun enough to justify major oral surgery.
THREE YEARS LATER, AND NOTHING TO SHOW FOR IT
Well, its been quite some time since I have written anything for this pitiful little corner of the internet, but due to the constant prodding of parties who will remain nameless, I have made my triumphant return. But, fear not! I remain a cynical and unwavering fink with an extreme distaste for pretty much everyone. A lot has happened in three years. On several occasions, I probably should have died from alcohol poisoning or some other poor decision on my part. Unfortunately, one event that has not yet happened is my graduation from the esteemed University of Kansas. Due to illness and constant procrastination I have almost made it a six year ordeal. Lets hear it for general apathy! Alas, my undergraduate career will come to an end in May, barring some unseen monkey wrench. Lack of money prohibits me from drinking large amounts of whiskey these days, but perhaps that is a good thing. Only time will tell. Thats all for tonight. See you in three years.
Well, its been quite some time since I have written anything for this pitiful little corner of the internet, but due to the constant prodding of parties who will remain nameless, I have made my triumphant return. But, fear not! I remain a cynical and unwavering fink with an extreme distaste for pretty much everyone. A lot has happened in three years. On several occasions, I probably should have died from alcohol poisoning or some other poor decision on my part. Unfortunately, one event that has not yet happened is my graduation from the esteemed University of Kansas. Due to illness and constant procrastination I have almost made it a six year ordeal. Lets hear it for general apathy! Alas, my undergraduate career will come to an end in May, barring some unseen monkey wrench. Lack of money prohibits me from drinking large amounts of whiskey these days, but perhaps that is a good thing. Only time will tell. Thats all for tonight. See you in three years.
Monday, January 12, 2004
THESE PEOPLE SUCK AT LIFE
So my car was recovered. It wasnt a pretty sight. It was found in a ditch without wheels and about half the motor. There was a lot more damage, but that isnt what this rant is about. Its about my dealings with the towyard that the car was brought to. Its this shitty little place at the end of a cul de sac in the industrial zone in Kansas City, right next to a trailer park. Gloria, The toothless wonder working the front desk, was the person with whom I had the pleasure of conversing. She had a bun hairdo and smelled like Waffle House.
Gloria: You were driving with an expired registration.
Me: no i wasn't
Gloria: yes you were.
Me: look at the fucking license plate. see that little number next to the month? the little 04?
Gloria: (sheepishly shifting her fat ass from one side of her stool to the other) The paperwork that was in the car wasn't up to date
Me: What the fuck were you doing in my car?
After I escaped Gloria's wit, I was able to look upon my sorry car uninterrupted. Or so I thought. I started removing things like cds, my parking pass, and assorted clothes, and this geriatric hick on a forklift pulled up and told me i couldnt take anything out of it because the insurance company hadnt taken possession of it yet. I didnt want to argue with this guy cause he looked like an older "Blue" from Old School. If thats possible. I started putting shit back in and pocketed whatever I could while the old fucker wasn't watching. I dont think he even knew where he was. As i put the shit I pilfered from my own car into my brother's car, I thought about how pitiful this place actually was. I was depressed after five minutes in this shithole. Gloria must be ready to commit suicide. All I have to say to that is: Remember Gloria, when slitting your wrists, its down the road, not across the street.
So my car was recovered. It wasnt a pretty sight. It was found in a ditch without wheels and about half the motor. There was a lot more damage, but that isnt what this rant is about. Its about my dealings with the towyard that the car was brought to. Its this shitty little place at the end of a cul de sac in the industrial zone in Kansas City, right next to a trailer park. Gloria, The toothless wonder working the front desk, was the person with whom I had the pleasure of conversing. She had a bun hairdo and smelled like Waffle House.
Gloria: You were driving with an expired registration.
Me: no i wasn't
Gloria: yes you were.
Me: look at the fucking license plate. see that little number next to the month? the little 04?
Gloria: (sheepishly shifting her fat ass from one side of her stool to the other) The paperwork that was in the car wasn't up to date
Me: What the fuck were you doing in my car?
After I escaped Gloria's wit, I was able to look upon my sorry car uninterrupted. Or so I thought. I started removing things like cds, my parking pass, and assorted clothes, and this geriatric hick on a forklift pulled up and told me i couldnt take anything out of it because the insurance company hadnt taken possession of it yet. I didnt want to argue with this guy cause he looked like an older "Blue" from Old School. If thats possible. I started putting shit back in and pocketed whatever I could while the old fucker wasn't watching. I dont think he even knew where he was. As i put the shit I pilfered from my own car into my brother's car, I thought about how pitiful this place actually was. I was depressed after five minutes in this shithole. Gloria must be ready to commit suicide. All I have to say to that is: Remember Gloria, when slitting your wrists, its down the road, not across the street.
Thursday, November 27, 2003
THE PERPETUATION OF LITERATURE THROUGH MEDIA
I watched the movie "Igby Goes Down" this afternoon, because a friend told me it was good. All I can say is, the storyline was brilliant. In fact, I thought it was brilliant the first time I read Catcher in the Rye. "Igby Goes Down" is a coming of age tale about a highschool age kid with problems at home. He shirks the responsibility of his academic career, to take off, fend for himself, and drink his way through life. Sound familiar? I guess since Salinger strongly opposed producing Catcher in the rye for the screen, this one is as close as we get. I also guess that if you want something done right, you have to do it yourself. Just so happens i have an idea for a movie. It starts out with this farmboy all american kid, that is thrust into intergalactic warfare by unseen mystical forces, only to find out that the leader of the evil regime is his father. Epic battles ensue. End scene with a muppet luau in the forest. This thing will write itself i swear.
I watched the movie "Igby Goes Down" this afternoon, because a friend told me it was good. All I can say is, the storyline was brilliant. In fact, I thought it was brilliant the first time I read Catcher in the Rye. "Igby Goes Down" is a coming of age tale about a highschool age kid with problems at home. He shirks the responsibility of his academic career, to take off, fend for himself, and drink his way through life. Sound familiar? I guess since Salinger strongly opposed producing Catcher in the rye for the screen, this one is as close as we get. I also guess that if you want something done right, you have to do it yourself. Just so happens i have an idea for a movie. It starts out with this farmboy all american kid, that is thrust into intergalactic warfare by unseen mystical forces, only to find out that the leader of the evil regime is his father. Epic battles ensue. End scene with a muppet luau in the forest. This thing will write itself i swear.
Friday, October 31, 2003
TRICK OR TREAT BITCHES
Well, Halloween is upon us, but to enjoy the holiday fully, it helps to understand where it came from. It goes as follows:
The word itself, "Halloween," originated in the Catholic Church. It comes from the corruption of All Hallows Eve. November 1, "All Hollows Day" (or "All Saints Day"), is a Catholic day of observance in honor of saints. But, in the 5th century BC, in Celtic Ireland, summer officially ended on October 31. One story says that, on that day, the disembodied spirits of all those who had died throughout the preceding year would come back in search of living bodies to possess for the next year. It was their only hope for the afterlife. The Celts believed all laws of space and time were suspended during this time, allowing the spirit world to intermingle with the living. Naturally, the living did not want to be possessed. So on the night of October 31, villagers would put the fires in their homes out, to make them cold and undesirable. They would dress up in all manner of ghoulish costumes and noisily paraded around the neighborhood, being as destructive as possible in order to frighten away spirits looking for bodies to possess.
In the 7th century, Pope Boniface IV introduced All Saints' Day to replace the pagan festival of the dead. It was observed on May 13. Later, Gregory III changed the date to November 1. The Greek Orthodox Church observes it on the first Sunday after Pentecost. Despite this connection with the Roman Church, the American version of Halloween Day celebration owes its origin to the ancient (pre-Christian) Druidic fire festival called "Samhain", celebrated by the Celts in Scotland, Wales and Ireland. Samhain is pronounced "sow-in", with "sow" rhyming with cow. In Ireland the festival was known as Samhein, or La Samon, the Feast of the Sun. In Scotland, the celebration was known as Hallowe'en. In Welsh it's Nos Galen-gaeof (that is, the Night of the Winter Calends. According to the Irish English dictionary published by the Irish Texts Society: "Samhain, All Hallowtide, the feast of the dead in Pagan and Christian times, signalizing the close of harvest and the initiation of the winter season, lasting till May, during which troops (esp. the Fiann) were quartered. Faeries were imagined as particularly active at this season. From it the half year is reckoned. also called Feile Moingfinne (Snow Goddess).(1) The Scottish Gaelis Dictionary defines it as "Hallowtide. The Feast of All Soula. Sam + Fuin = end of summer."(2) Contrary to the information published by many organizations, there is no archaeological or literary evidence to indicate that Samhain was a deity. The Celtic Gods of the dead were Gwynn ap Nudd for the British, and Arawn for the Welsh. The Irish did not have a "lord of death" as such. Thus most of the customs connected with the Day are remnants of the ancient religious beliefs and rituals, first of the Druids and then transcended amongst the Roman Christians who conquered them.
The custom of trick-or-treating is thought to have originated not with the Irish Celts, but with a ninth-century European custom called souling. On November 2, All Souls Day, early Christians would walk from village to village begging for "soul cakes," made out of square pieces of bread with currants. The more soul cakes the beggars would receive, the more prayers they would promise to say on behalf of the dead relatives of the donors. At the time, it was believed that the dead remained in limbo for a time after death, and that prayer, even by strangers, could expedite a soul's passage to heaven.
More importantly, Halloween is yet another excuse for me to drink copious amounts of alcohol.
Well, Halloween is upon us, but to enjoy the holiday fully, it helps to understand where it came from. It goes as follows:
The word itself, "Halloween," originated in the Catholic Church. It comes from the corruption of All Hallows Eve. November 1, "All Hollows Day" (or "All Saints Day"), is a Catholic day of observance in honor of saints. But, in the 5th century BC, in Celtic Ireland, summer officially ended on October 31. One story says that, on that day, the disembodied spirits of all those who had died throughout the preceding year would come back in search of living bodies to possess for the next year. It was their only hope for the afterlife. The Celts believed all laws of space and time were suspended during this time, allowing the spirit world to intermingle with the living. Naturally, the living did not want to be possessed. So on the night of October 31, villagers would put the fires in their homes out, to make them cold and undesirable. They would dress up in all manner of ghoulish costumes and noisily paraded around the neighborhood, being as destructive as possible in order to frighten away spirits looking for bodies to possess.
In the 7th century, Pope Boniface IV introduced All Saints' Day to replace the pagan festival of the dead. It was observed on May 13. Later, Gregory III changed the date to November 1. The Greek Orthodox Church observes it on the first Sunday after Pentecost. Despite this connection with the Roman Church, the American version of Halloween Day celebration owes its origin to the ancient (pre-Christian) Druidic fire festival called "Samhain", celebrated by the Celts in Scotland, Wales and Ireland. Samhain is pronounced "sow-in", with "sow" rhyming with cow. In Ireland the festival was known as Samhein, or La Samon, the Feast of the Sun. In Scotland, the celebration was known as Hallowe'en. In Welsh it's Nos Galen-gaeof (that is, the Night of the Winter Calends. According to the Irish English dictionary published by the Irish Texts Society: "Samhain, All Hallowtide, the feast of the dead in Pagan and Christian times, signalizing the close of harvest and the initiation of the winter season, lasting till May, during which troops (esp. the Fiann) were quartered. Faeries were imagined as particularly active at this season. From it the half year is reckoned. also called Feile Moingfinne (Snow Goddess).(1) The Scottish Gaelis Dictionary defines it as "Hallowtide. The Feast of All Soula. Sam + Fuin = end of summer."(2) Contrary to the information published by many organizations, there is no archaeological or literary evidence to indicate that Samhain was a deity. The Celtic Gods of the dead were Gwynn ap Nudd for the British, and Arawn for the Welsh. The Irish did not have a "lord of death" as such. Thus most of the customs connected with the Day are remnants of the ancient religious beliefs and rituals, first of the Druids and then transcended amongst the Roman Christians who conquered them.
The custom of trick-or-treating is thought to have originated not with the Irish Celts, but with a ninth-century European custom called souling. On November 2, All Souls Day, early Christians would walk from village to village begging for "soul cakes," made out of square pieces of bread with currants. The more soul cakes the beggars would receive, the more prayers they would promise to say on behalf of the dead relatives of the donors. At the time, it was believed that the dead remained in limbo for a time after death, and that prayer, even by strangers, could expedite a soul's passage to heaven.
More importantly, Halloween is yet another excuse for me to drink copious amounts of alcohol.
Friday, October 24, 2003
FRESH NEW STARTS FOR BROKEN HEARTS
It occurs to me that some of you may think that I am no better than you for starting this blog. Well, thats just not the case. See, every other blog I've seen on this site has been a cry for attention. It's all about getting sympathy from other users and posting useless crap about the opposite sex. I like to call these people attention whores, and I find it to be quite pretentious to think that random people around the world would give a shit about my personal exploits with the female gender, or how im doing in school for that matter. These are the kind of people that when youre talking to them in real life, you get one sentence out, and its "Ohh me too! Listen to what happened to me!" I never knew there were so many of you fuckers.
On that note, today I got a 101 on my test in my ethnomusicology course, and that girl who sits next to me in class brushed my hand with hers when I was reaching for my pen.
It occurs to me that some of you may think that I am no better than you for starting this blog. Well, thats just not the case. See, every other blog I've seen on this site has been a cry for attention. It's all about getting sympathy from other users and posting useless crap about the opposite sex. I like to call these people attention whores, and I find it to be quite pretentious to think that random people around the world would give a shit about my personal exploits with the female gender, or how im doing in school for that matter. These are the kind of people that when youre talking to them in real life, you get one sentence out, and its "Ohh me too! Listen to what happened to me!" I never knew there were so many of you fuckers.
On that note, today I got a 101 on my test in my ethnomusicology course, and that girl who sits next to me in class brushed my hand with hers when I was reaching for my pen.
Wednesday, October 22, 2003
REPENT, AND YE SHALL BE SAVED
Today, as i was walking on campus, every street corner was littered with evangelists passing out free bibles. I noticed that the only people handing them out were men in suits that looked to be at least seventy years of age. I thought that perhaps organized religion is in a decline, This is evident in the decline in people entering the seminary in recent years, especially catholicism. Hell, thats a huge reason why they keep recycling the pedophiles they have installed in parishes right now. Theyre low on warm bodies. Perhaps there are no young people in the church, and the whole purpose of this venture was to breathe some new life into it. Then I thought that maybe the church used the older members because they look pathetic and sad and people would feel sorry for them and take a bible. I didnt really reach a conclusion. Every time one of the geriatric evangelists would offer me a bible, I would pat the pack of cigarettes in my pocket that was roughly the same shape as the mini bibles they were handing out, and tell them I already had one. Finally, I asked one of them what church they came from and he told me it was the second church of something or other. Then, he proceeded to tell me that I should visit, or if I was interested he could arrange for one of them to come to my house to try and save me from my transgressions. I thought about that for a second, exploring the possibilities of how I could have fun with that. One of said possibilities included inviting them in to my living room, and holding the conversation with shemale porn playing on the TV. I decided against it, because porn gags are played out. That, and i didnt want to be responsible for one of these people having a coronary.
I realize that this entry in my weblog does not contain the kind of humor that many of you are accustomed to. However, I find organized religion pretty humorous in itself, and well, its my blog, so deal with it.
Today, as i was walking on campus, every street corner was littered with evangelists passing out free bibles. I noticed that the only people handing them out were men in suits that looked to be at least seventy years of age. I thought that perhaps organized religion is in a decline, This is evident in the decline in people entering the seminary in recent years, especially catholicism. Hell, thats a huge reason why they keep recycling the pedophiles they have installed in parishes right now. Theyre low on warm bodies. Perhaps there are no young people in the church, and the whole purpose of this venture was to breathe some new life into it. Then I thought that maybe the church used the older members because they look pathetic and sad and people would feel sorry for them and take a bible. I didnt really reach a conclusion. Every time one of the geriatric evangelists would offer me a bible, I would pat the pack of cigarettes in my pocket that was roughly the same shape as the mini bibles they were handing out, and tell them I already had one. Finally, I asked one of them what church they came from and he told me it was the second church of something or other. Then, he proceeded to tell me that I should visit, or if I was interested he could arrange for one of them to come to my house to try and save me from my transgressions. I thought about that for a second, exploring the possibilities of how I could have fun with that. One of said possibilities included inviting them in to my living room, and holding the conversation with shemale porn playing on the TV. I decided against it, because porn gags are played out. That, and i didnt want to be responsible for one of these people having a coronary.
I realize that this entry in my weblog does not contain the kind of humor that many of you are accustomed to. However, I find organized religion pretty humorous in itself, and well, its my blog, so deal with it.
Tuesday, October 21, 2003
MISSION STATEMENT
So I came across this site as I was perusing a coworkers blog, and I decided I would give it a shot. Now blogs are inherently retarded, but i decided to do it for two reasons.
1. I rock complete balls
2. Since I rock aforementioned balls, any inherently retarded activity that I partake in becomes socially acceptable. and sorry guys, im not into michael moore's politics. Hes still a fat pathetic sack of failure.
DISCLAIMER: If you dont like what I have to say in this site, you're more than welcome to click that little red X in the upper righthand corner of your screen.
So I came across this site as I was perusing a coworkers blog, and I decided I would give it a shot. Now blogs are inherently retarded, but i decided to do it for two reasons.
1. I rock complete balls
2. Since I rock aforementioned balls, any inherently retarded activity that I partake in becomes socially acceptable. and sorry guys, im not into michael moore's politics. Hes still a fat pathetic sack of failure.
DISCLAIMER: If you dont like what I have to say in this site, you're more than welcome to click that little red X in the upper righthand corner of your screen.
IN LIGHT OF RECENT EVENTS
I hate indie rock kids. I went to the Eels show here in town, because i had a free ticket and nothing else to do on a thursday night. The place was filled with you fuckers. You know who you are. You are the douchebags that wear womens jeans because they feel oh so tight. You idolize Rivers Cuomo, and you wear the buddy holly glasses and dont wash your hair. You are the reason i cant get a cup of coffee because you're loafing around the coffee house bitching to your friends about how the new "my bloody valentine" album is too mainstream. Youre all fucking cookiecutter pieces of shit. You drink PBR and fat cat and your houses are wallpapered with the album covers of shitty indie rock bands.
Keep in mind, im generally a very tolerant person. i just have a problem with people who try to be nonconformists by dressing exactly like each other. If you fit my description of an indie rock kid, please proceed to punch yourself in the balls and never procreate.
now before i get a billion emails flooding my inbox saying "haha dork! the Eels arent indie rock!" i could care less. that doesnt stop the indie rock fucktards from coming out of the woodwork to congregate around shitty music.
I hate indie rock kids. I went to the Eels show here in town, because i had a free ticket and nothing else to do on a thursday night. The place was filled with you fuckers. You know who you are. You are the douchebags that wear womens jeans because they feel oh so tight. You idolize Rivers Cuomo, and you wear the buddy holly glasses and dont wash your hair. You are the reason i cant get a cup of coffee because you're loafing around the coffee house bitching to your friends about how the new "my bloody valentine" album is too mainstream. Youre all fucking cookiecutter pieces of shit. You drink PBR and fat cat and your houses are wallpapered with the album covers of shitty indie rock bands.
Keep in mind, im generally a very tolerant person. i just have a problem with people who try to be nonconformists by dressing exactly like each other. If you fit my description of an indie rock kid, please proceed to punch yourself in the balls and never procreate.
now before i get a billion emails flooding my inbox saying "haha dork! the Eels arent indie rock!" i could care less. that doesnt stop the indie rock fucktards from coming out of the woodwork to congregate around shitty music.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)
