Well that didn't last long. I've got too much movie ADD and not enough inspiration to maintain a blog about movies. Especially since I've reviewed two in the last month, and watched: about 15-20. I'll never catch up, and it's just the beginning.
So after a 20 months, almost to the day, the Angry Dome will be sputtering to a close, replaced by an emptiness that can't be filled... unless of course, you visit my OTHER blog. There my movie-rich heritage will continue, but in a different light - and one that will be updated more frequently, and with more of a point.
This place had a great run, and here, on post 121, I pay tribute to the fallen comrade, The Angry Dome. He blazed out on all saddles, waged an insurgency against stupidity and douches for 19 months, before falling victim to the fact he'd realized he'd ran out of things to hate (the maximum apparently being about 110 individual hatreds). There were good ones along the way - remember that one about slitting wrists, or stupid teens, or that time I schooled those emo lunatics? Yeah, good times. Oh! And where I made fun of New Orleans and everyone hated me for it? Classic.
Well, I guess this is where the blog hits the execution squad - but this squad is lazy - instead of burying the body, they'll leave it to fester, to rot, to see how many people still visit, and use it as a shameless plug to the NEW, ACTUALLY INTERESTING blog!
And so, we say goodnight. RIP The Angry Dome: You inspired me to hate more than ever before, and was ultimately replaced with a newer model.
-Mark
Friday, September 01, 2006
Friday, August 18, 2006
Solid as a Brick
Brick, first of all, was a really low budget film made in 2005, but didn't really get any exposure until this summer. And it's a damn shame, too.
Joseph Gordon-Levitt (Third Rock from the Sun) stars in the film as a highschool "detective". He's a face most people would recognize but not know his name, which I think works really well for the film. His solid acting helps keep the film together, although the supporting cast doesn't really slouch either.
The film details a murder of his ex-girlfriend, which inevitably leads him to the underground world of cocaine (ie: Brick) which is ran through it seems like people that are either seniors in highschool or just graduated. Although that part of the plot seems kind of ridiculous (that 18 year olds could run that), it's really one of the very few flaws of the film, and it still fits.
The dialogue of Brick is sharp, as the film is pushed on by the script rather than the camera. The action is more cued by character's conversations instead of their movements, which I'm not always a big fan of, but it still works here. The only gaff I found was that all the characters, especially Pin and Brendan, talk really quick, so if you're not paying attention or space out for a few minutes (like I did at one point), you'll miss a swath of information and find yourself confused for awhile. This quick-talking is of course a homage to the film-noirs in American cinema from the late 40's and early 50's, where everyone spoke a billion miles an hour. In many ways, Brick is a throwback to those classic films, specifically in dialogue and action cues. And it still works.
The highschool setting seems a bit off-putting for a film-noir, but again, the plot demands it and it still works. The adult supervision (which is usually lacking in most films about teen-adventure) is actually THERE, but the fragile balance is maintained so what the characters do doesn't seem ridiculous.
One character that I absolutely found to be the most believeable was Tugger. Not only did he surprise me, but as the hothead bodyguard, his actions and what he said was completely justified in the film. He didn't step outside of his character, which can be found frequently in teen-films (and frankly, sucks).
The shots of the film were also well put together, which once again was a nice surprise for a low budget flick. Director Rian Johnson did a standup job balancing artistic shots with the standard, so every now and then, the audience with a keen eye get a treat. A few specifically stick out in my mind, one of a close up of Brendan's face on the right side of the screen as a car rushes by, and another of Tugger, Pin, and Brendan in a basement looking up at the cieling listening to noises. Both of those definitely convey a message during the action, which jump in place to the character's words (these specific shots have no dialogue). It's there where the audience can just get into the heads of the characters, and there's many shots like that.
All in all, one could never guess this film was made on a budget of only 500K. It grossed only 2 million (US) and about 600K (UK), but that's still a smash success for such a little film.
If you ever see this film around and are a fan of mysteries, I highly recommend Brick... but just don't space out. You'll probably need to watch it twice.
-Mark
Next: Hard Candy
Joseph Gordon-Levitt (Third Rock from the Sun) stars in the film as a highschool "detective". He's a face most people would recognize but not know his name, which I think works really well for the film. His solid acting helps keep the film together, although the supporting cast doesn't really slouch either.
The film details a murder of his ex-girlfriend, which inevitably leads him to the underground world of cocaine (ie: Brick) which is ran through it seems like people that are either seniors in highschool or just graduated. Although that part of the plot seems kind of ridiculous (that 18 year olds could run that), it's really one of the very few flaws of the film, and it still fits.
The dialogue of Brick is sharp, as the film is pushed on by the script rather than the camera. The action is more cued by character's conversations instead of their movements, which I'm not always a big fan of, but it still works here. The only gaff I found was that all the characters, especially Pin and Brendan, talk really quick, so if you're not paying attention or space out for a few minutes (like I did at one point), you'll miss a swath of information and find yourself confused for awhile. This quick-talking is of course a homage to the film-noirs in American cinema from the late 40's and early 50's, where everyone spoke a billion miles an hour. In many ways, Brick is a throwback to those classic films, specifically in dialogue and action cues. And it still works.
The highschool setting seems a bit off-putting for a film-noir, but again, the plot demands it and it still works. The adult supervision (which is usually lacking in most films about teen-adventure) is actually THERE, but the fragile balance is maintained so what the characters do doesn't seem ridiculous.
One character that I absolutely found to be the most believeable was Tugger. Not only did he surprise me, but as the hothead bodyguard, his actions and what he said was completely justified in the film. He didn't step outside of his character, which can be found frequently in teen-films (and frankly, sucks).
The shots of the film were also well put together, which once again was a nice surprise for a low budget flick. Director Rian Johnson did a standup job balancing artistic shots with the standard, so every now and then, the audience with a keen eye get a treat. A few specifically stick out in my mind, one of a close up of Brendan's face on the right side of the screen as a car rushes by, and another of Tugger, Pin, and Brendan in a basement looking up at the cieling listening to noises. Both of those definitely convey a message during the action, which jump in place to the character's words (these specific shots have no dialogue). It's there where the audience can just get into the heads of the characters, and there's many shots like that.
All in all, one could never guess this film was made on a budget of only 500K. It grossed only 2 million (US) and about 600K (UK), but that's still a smash success for such a little film.
If you ever see this film around and are a fan of mysteries, I highly recommend Brick... but just don't space out. You'll probably need to watch it twice.
-Mark
Next: Hard Candy
Wednesday, August 09, 2006
Pirates of the Caribbean: Dead Man's Sequel
So it's been a little while since I dropped in with actual content for the "new" site, but of course, I've watched movies like no tomorrow between those empty weeks. My life's been a roller coaster of monotomy, so pretty much it's been going in a straight line. But enough about my hilariously depressing life - onto the movies!
So today, I'll be discussing Pirates of the Caribbean : Dead Man's Chest. [Spoilers ahoy.]
First of all, this movie was highly advertised, so it's not like people haven't heard of it. With the whole "blockbuster" sequel they tried to tout, it had some big shoes to fill after Curse of the Black Pearl. And let me tell you, it fails to get even close.
It's produced by Disney to start, which typically ensures a hammed-up moral point that's "positive". And as usual, there are clear cut good and bad characters, with nobody really floating in the middle, save Jack Sparrow (this being established in the first movie, so it fits). Will Turner is the protypical male superhero, that's made to identify with the audience while inexplicably having ridiculous on-the-spot talents that are just convienent to the plot, yet never previously explained (ie: the quickness of him figuring out the dice game, and consequently playing well without any learning curve, against the best player). Elizabeth is actually pretty forgotten within the whole film, probably only covering 20-30 minutes of actual "development". She's seen at the beginning - forgotten for nearly 45 minutes, thrown into a relatively unexplained scene, forgotten again, and then put in the film another 45 minutes later. She never takes a dominating role in the film, which is a huge drawback considering she's the main female protagonist, and the one the female audience is supposed to identify with. But when in scenes with either Jack or Will, she doesn't ever take a dominant role, instead the attention being shifted to the males. I'm not exactly surprised by this, considering this is typical Disney to push the female into a supporting role. I can only think of a few - actually, one movie that doesn't do this (Mulan, which is flawed in its own ways).
Jack is clever and smarmy in his own way, but I completely didn't feel his character the way I did in the Curse of the Black Pearl. In the first film, he was clever and smarmy, and funny in a not stupid way. In Dead Man's Chest, he seems overdone. The one-liners aren't particularly funny, nor are his supposedly amusing actions. Instead the pickles he gets into are more caused by stupidity, and result in an even more unbelievable result. The fearlessness he seems to have in the first movie (yes I know he runs a lot, but it's more like a tease in the first, not in the second) is forgotten until some ridiculous concept of his galant bravery is crammed literally into the last 20 seconds he's on screen, when he's stepping into the mouth of the beast. Given the way he acts throughout the movie, it'd seem more likely and plausable that he'd sacrafice everyone else to save himself, not the other way around.
While the CG is impressive, particularly with Davy Jones' crew and the sea-monster, it's basically all the film has to offer. I enjoy the work done on the ship as it dives, and as it falls apart from the monster. But the plot itself can't support anything, and the CG can't carry the movie. The most aggrevating thing about the plot that I found was that it danced around, never really explaining half of what was supposed to be going on. While time is supposed to pass in the film, I never really get the impression of how much, especially since everything seems to happen within about the course of a month, when in context of the film, one could roughly expect 1-2 years to pass. With such a large disparity in contuinity, I easily found myself frustrated at the assumed logic the film took. Will's supposed to be on this ship, so they're discussing it - and in the next scene, he's a crewmember of said rival ship? And how in the hell would he come up with such ridiculous plans so quickly? There's one thing for cunning, but Will is more of an all-action guy, with a knack for logic - he can fight and he can catch onto people's intentions quickly, but nowhere does it seem to indicate he's one ot make plans properly - especially since from the first movie, he wasn't even a seaman, so it's natural to assume he'd only have a fringe knowledge of vessels and the intricaces of running it, even after a year.
The editing bothered me as well, but this goes into the timeline. However, the shameless hamming of a triology also bothered me, espeically considering this film was weak overall and pretty nonsensical. I don't care what they're doing in the third film, although I'm sure that it'll be just as stupid and ridiculously contrived as this adventure.
And two more things - the fight scenes dragged on way too long, particularly the spinning wheel one. Amusing? Yes, but it didn't deserve the 15 minutes of screen time it got. Second: Norrington. Wow, how could anyone make a main antagonist so underdeveloped? I had no real idea why he was hating Jack. As far as I was concerned, he was some goon the Imperials hired to get the heart of Davy Jones (because they want it why?).
All in all, the film's grotesque budget of 225 million dollars was in my eyes, a failure. It turns out all that money was spent on stars and CG, instead writing a solid script and getting a believable plot.
-Mark
Reviewing Brick next.
So today, I'll be discussing Pirates of the Caribbean : Dead Man's Chest. [Spoilers ahoy.]
First of all, this movie was highly advertised, so it's not like people haven't heard of it. With the whole "blockbuster" sequel they tried to tout, it had some big shoes to fill after Curse of the Black Pearl. And let me tell you, it fails to get even close.
It's produced by Disney to start, which typically ensures a hammed-up moral point that's "positive". And as usual, there are clear cut good and bad characters, with nobody really floating in the middle, save Jack Sparrow (this being established in the first movie, so it fits). Will Turner is the protypical male superhero, that's made to identify with the audience while inexplicably having ridiculous on-the-spot talents that are just convienent to the plot, yet never previously explained (ie: the quickness of him figuring out the dice game, and consequently playing well without any learning curve, against the best player). Elizabeth is actually pretty forgotten within the whole film, probably only covering 20-30 minutes of actual "development". She's seen at the beginning - forgotten for nearly 45 minutes, thrown into a relatively unexplained scene, forgotten again, and then put in the film another 45 minutes later. She never takes a dominating role in the film, which is a huge drawback considering she's the main female protagonist, and the one the female audience is supposed to identify with. But when in scenes with either Jack or Will, she doesn't ever take a dominant role, instead the attention being shifted to the males. I'm not exactly surprised by this, considering this is typical Disney to push the female into a supporting role. I can only think of a few - actually, one movie that doesn't do this (Mulan, which is flawed in its own ways).
Jack is clever and smarmy in his own way, but I completely didn't feel his character the way I did in the Curse of the Black Pearl. In the first film, he was clever and smarmy, and funny in a not stupid way. In Dead Man's Chest, he seems overdone. The one-liners aren't particularly funny, nor are his supposedly amusing actions. Instead the pickles he gets into are more caused by stupidity, and result in an even more unbelievable result. The fearlessness he seems to have in the first movie (yes I know he runs a lot, but it's more like a tease in the first, not in the second) is forgotten until some ridiculous concept of his galant bravery is crammed literally into the last 20 seconds he's on screen, when he's stepping into the mouth of the beast. Given the way he acts throughout the movie, it'd seem more likely and plausable that he'd sacrafice everyone else to save himself, not the other way around.
While the CG is impressive, particularly with Davy Jones' crew and the sea-monster, it's basically all the film has to offer. I enjoy the work done on the ship as it dives, and as it falls apart from the monster. But the plot itself can't support anything, and the CG can't carry the movie. The most aggrevating thing about the plot that I found was that it danced around, never really explaining half of what was supposed to be going on. While time is supposed to pass in the film, I never really get the impression of how much, especially since everything seems to happen within about the course of a month, when in context of the film, one could roughly expect 1-2 years to pass. With such a large disparity in contuinity, I easily found myself frustrated at the assumed logic the film took. Will's supposed to be on this ship, so they're discussing it - and in the next scene, he's a crewmember of said rival ship? And how in the hell would he come up with such ridiculous plans so quickly? There's one thing for cunning, but Will is more of an all-action guy, with a knack for logic - he can fight and he can catch onto people's intentions quickly, but nowhere does it seem to indicate he's one ot make plans properly - especially since from the first movie, he wasn't even a seaman, so it's natural to assume he'd only have a fringe knowledge of vessels and the intricaces of running it, even after a year.
The editing bothered me as well, but this goes into the timeline. However, the shameless hamming of a triology also bothered me, espeically considering this film was weak overall and pretty nonsensical. I don't care what they're doing in the third film, although I'm sure that it'll be just as stupid and ridiculously contrived as this adventure.
And two more things - the fight scenes dragged on way too long, particularly the spinning wheel one. Amusing? Yes, but it didn't deserve the 15 minutes of screen time it got. Second: Norrington. Wow, how could anyone make a main antagonist so underdeveloped? I had no real idea why he was hating Jack. As far as I was concerned, he was some goon the Imperials hired to get the heart of Davy Jones (because they want it why?).
All in all, the film's grotesque budget of 225 million dollars was in my eyes, a failure. It turns out all that money was spent on stars and CG, instead writing a solid script and getting a believable plot.
-Mark
Reviewing Brick next.
Monday, July 24, 2006
The Angry Dome takes a step into the well-known
Clearly, I have no idea about the kind of focus this blog should have, although a consistent theme of anger has been throughout. I've ranted on everything from my idiotic generation to how much "higher" education is bullshit to politics... to well, everything that ever slightly caused me a few moments to fester a rant in my mind, mostly on my walk home from University/work/wherever the hell I happened to be. But alas, it never found the niche I wanted... my one and a half year experiment lead me to nowhere I really wanted to be, blog-tastic wise. I mean sure, there were some good rants here and there, but for anyone that actually read my blog religiously (see: nobody), there was 4-to-1 disappointment to internet justice ratio of satisfaction.
So after this.. er.. 14? 13? 15? month whoring of senseless society hate, I must alas bid adios to this blog...
and say hello to the new one that will be taking it's place.
Yes, I'm not deleting this blog, nor editing anything I said; rather, just pretending that it was never there and stumbling blindly to my new horizon of theme-related ramblings on one of basically two things I know a shit-ton about: Films (The other being baseball, which isn't worth blogging about since I don't overanalyze that).
Yes, Films.
Allow me to explain. I'm a film major - not the kind that makes films (well, not specifically), but the jackass that analyzes them until he hates them - and sadly, reads way more into films then the average person. And now, the only conceivable use I can find for the 25 grand I'm throwing away for this pointless degree is to pass on my analytical expertise, for free, obviously, cause it's not like anyone would pay for that. Unless you're Ebert. And you're not.
Luckily for you, I watch an absolute ton of movies. I'm way more of a man for contemporary (see: "recent", post-my birthdate) cinema, and my personal collection spans 400+ movies, most from the last 3 years. I'll do my best to offer my opinions on every film I see, which will be in totally unrandom order, some probably long-since released.
I'm a big fan of psychological thrillers, movies such as anything made by M. Night and Christopher Nolan. Course, I'll watch anything, including would-be crappy romantic comedies. I'll watch anything. Seriously. Except porn. No, even porn. For educational purposes.. yes...
Most importantly, I also watch a ton of small, low-budget flicks that most people probably haven't heard of (Such as Brick, Cube Zero, etc).
I haven't decided how I'll rant about these movies yet, although I'm sure anger will come into play a lot. And rest assured, the bigger the budget, the bigger my expectations will be.
You're in good hands now, people.
Now do my a favour and forget everything I've ever posted before this.
-Mark
Oh, before I forget: Yes, I'll probably have spoilers. But you'll be well informed.
So after this.. er.. 14? 13? 15? month whoring of senseless society hate, I must alas bid adios to this blog...
and say hello to the new one that will be taking it's place.
Yes, I'm not deleting this blog, nor editing anything I said; rather, just pretending that it was never there and stumbling blindly to my new horizon of theme-related ramblings on one of basically two things I know a shit-ton about: Films (The other being baseball, which isn't worth blogging about since I don't overanalyze that).
Yes, Films.
Allow me to explain. I'm a film major - not the kind that makes films (well, not specifically), but the jackass that analyzes them until he hates them - and sadly, reads way more into films then the average person. And now, the only conceivable use I can find for the 25 grand I'm throwing away for this pointless degree is to pass on my analytical expertise, for free, obviously, cause it's not like anyone would pay for that. Unless you're Ebert. And you're not.
Luckily for you, I watch an absolute ton of movies. I'm way more of a man for contemporary (see: "recent", post-my birthdate) cinema, and my personal collection spans 400+ movies, most from the last 3 years. I'll do my best to offer my opinions on every film I see, which will be in totally unrandom order, some probably long-since released.
I'm a big fan of psychological thrillers, movies such as anything made by M. Night and Christopher Nolan. Course, I'll watch anything, including would-be crappy romantic comedies. I'll watch anything. Seriously. Except porn. No, even porn. For educational purposes.. yes...
Most importantly, I also watch a ton of small, low-budget flicks that most people probably haven't heard of (Such as Brick, Cube Zero, etc).
I haven't decided how I'll rant about these movies yet, although I'm sure anger will come into play a lot. And rest assured, the bigger the budget, the bigger my expectations will be.
You're in good hands now, people.
Now do my a favour and forget everything I've ever posted before this.
-Mark
Oh, before I forget: Yes, I'll probably have spoilers. But you'll be well informed.
Monday, July 10, 2006
Invasion of the body-slashers
So I haven't blogged in a bit.. y'know, it's just been off the hook with the booze, sex, and lying about booze and sex that I've been doing. No really, I haven't done shit.
Except observe and judge people.
And I saw a few days ago, a triumph of a trainwreck. Riding the bus home from work, some too-fat-to-fuck chick gets on - the bus is naturally too crowded for her to sit her fatass down, but what do I see on her forearms? If you guessed a tattoo, you're an idiot.
Friggin razor cuts. The bitch was a cutter.
It's obviously not one of those "I'm going to commit suicide things", cause even if you suck at slitting your wrists, slitting your wrists is a pretty foolproof way to end it all... course, she had them on her forearms.
This bullshit was for attention. I recall not too long ago, finding all about this fucking cliche of douchebaggery on the internet of people cutting themselves and showing it to other douches on myspace, LJ, etc (any kind of retarded "look at how pointless my life is!" site) and wearing this declaration of low IQ as some kind of badge of honour. What the fuck? What the fuck is up with stupid, stupid people thinking that the only way they'll be accepted is to maim themselves? If you want attention, rob a variety store and get arrested - don't fucking cut yourself, you morons. It's not cool to show other idiots that you like suicide, especially since you're too much of a bitch to actually go through with it.
Honestly... how did slitting your forearms EVER become popular?
Fucking people.
-Mark
Except observe and judge people.
And I saw a few days ago, a triumph of a trainwreck. Riding the bus home from work, some too-fat-to-fuck chick gets on - the bus is naturally too crowded for her to sit her fatass down, but what do I see on her forearms? If you guessed a tattoo, you're an idiot.
Friggin razor cuts. The bitch was a cutter.
It's obviously not one of those "I'm going to commit suicide things", cause even if you suck at slitting your wrists, slitting your wrists is a pretty foolproof way to end it all... course, she had them on her forearms.
This bullshit was for attention. I recall not too long ago, finding all about this fucking cliche of douchebaggery on the internet of people cutting themselves and showing it to other douches on myspace, LJ, etc (any kind of retarded "look at how pointless my life is!" site) and wearing this declaration of low IQ as some kind of badge of honour. What the fuck? What the fuck is up with stupid, stupid people thinking that the only way they'll be accepted is to maim themselves? If you want attention, rob a variety store and get arrested - don't fucking cut yourself, you morons. It's not cool to show other idiots that you like suicide, especially since you're too much of a bitch to actually go through with it.
Honestly... how did slitting your forearms EVER become popular?
Fucking people.
-Mark
Tuesday, July 04, 2006
It's the most student-exploitativetime of the year
I'm registering for my courses. Nothing fits, not even the ones I HAVE to take to graduate my ass out of this shit-hole.
Fuck Education.
-Mark
Fuck Education.
-Mark
Sunday, June 25, 2006
Politics 101: treat the audience as a bigger douche than you
I'll get back to the End of My Generation soon, just lacking the creative hojules to get a complicated blend of hate and psychic powers to write about it right nows.
But what I have noticed is, along with probably anyone with a quarter of a brain, is how Politicans talk down about their own people they represent. Bush is a prime (and far too easy) example of this, as he wrongly defines words he uses in the speeches he didn't write. For anyone that can cut through the bullshit of politics, which frankly is difficult even for a skeptic as strong as myself, to get to the actual point, I tip my hat to you.
But when campaigning (which is always, apparently), it's easy for a major party member (example: Layton in Canada) to round up a bunch of idiot supporters and tell them everything they already know. If you're running for a socialist party, it's not like you're going to go in front of a mass of supporters and say they're going to give corporate tax-cuts. And yet, they seem to underline the point that they won't, which creates a big-ass "he's perfect, looking out for us!" bullshit mentality. Harper did it in Canada, basically saying that "vote for us cause we're not fuckups like the Liberals", and it worked. Nobody seemed to notice that since being in office, Harper's increased the military combatants heading to Afghanistan, to actually REPLACE the troops Bush threw in there.
Is it just me, or are Canadians becoming just as retarded as the average "Bush is the best president evar" American voter? I mean, it's pretty clear most of Canada/the world not including the UK do NOT support the war in Iraq, or how the administration handled Afghanistan - and the approval ratings reflect this in the states as well - but yet, here's the Canadian government, taking a page out of "my god, I think he's onto something, with all that disapproval!" and fucking up our country just as much (or at least heading us that way).
There's so much American politics seeping into Canadian politics. Attack ads are a given; although they all lack creativity and offhand I just remember how shameful they were rather than effective. Then there's the closed-door mentality, where everything big happens quickly and without people catching wind... but when they do, well it's already too late.
I'm a firm believer in open government - these people were elected by us, so why the fuck should they keep anything secret from us? They don't even have a right to do it, in my opinion. Sure, there's a shit-ton that most Canadians and Americans wouldn't give two shits about reading - but there's a minority, like myself and a few others, that would actually care about the little shit that goes on.
The open government creates more pressure for the government to do what's best for the country, not just their party or personal interests. And the fear of having rising tension between different groups would make sure that everyone is included, not just from your country, but to the world (example: If you're gonna bomb the shit out of a country, then one would have to declare so to your people - thus making wars only out of absolute necessary, not pointless escapades.
But in an age where Politicans advertise that "I'm just like you!", they're treating you as though you're a bigger douche than they are. Think about Bush - his whole campaign was "I'm just like you" and it worked. Do you think you could run a country, you asshat? Do you really give a flying fuck about balancing a budget, improving the state of the country, solving poverty and diseases, keeping the infasctructure strong, and most importantly, looking out for the population of an entire country? Of course not, your major dilemma is what the fuck you're going to eat tonight - home cooked or take out, or if you're younger, why that bitch of an ex-girlfriend slept with your friend while you were still together. But you voted for Bush cause he's just like you. And you're getting what you voted for - a trainwreck of a leader.
Canada's not innocent of this either - the only advantage we have is that it's a minority government and a different electorial process (vote in ridings for a specific person, not vote for one person in all the country). Harper can't just fuck off and do whatever he wants cause his opposition can shut him down.
But the states? Yeah, you're fucked.
-Mark
But what I have noticed is, along with probably anyone with a quarter of a brain, is how Politicans talk down about their own people they represent. Bush is a prime (and far too easy) example of this, as he wrongly defines words he uses in the speeches he didn't write. For anyone that can cut through the bullshit of politics, which frankly is difficult even for a skeptic as strong as myself, to get to the actual point, I tip my hat to you.
But when campaigning (which is always, apparently), it's easy for a major party member (example: Layton in Canada) to round up a bunch of idiot supporters and tell them everything they already know. If you're running for a socialist party, it's not like you're going to go in front of a mass of supporters and say they're going to give corporate tax-cuts. And yet, they seem to underline the point that they won't, which creates a big-ass "he's perfect, looking out for us!" bullshit mentality. Harper did it in Canada, basically saying that "vote for us cause we're not fuckups like the Liberals", and it worked. Nobody seemed to notice that since being in office, Harper's increased the military combatants heading to Afghanistan, to actually REPLACE the troops Bush threw in there.
Is it just me, or are Canadians becoming just as retarded as the average "Bush is the best president evar" American voter? I mean, it's pretty clear most of Canada/the world not including the UK do NOT support the war in Iraq, or how the administration handled Afghanistan - and the approval ratings reflect this in the states as well - but yet, here's the Canadian government, taking a page out of "my god, I think he's onto something, with all that disapproval!" and fucking up our country just as much (or at least heading us that way).
There's so much American politics seeping into Canadian politics. Attack ads are a given; although they all lack creativity and offhand I just remember how shameful they were rather than effective. Then there's the closed-door mentality, where everything big happens quickly and without people catching wind... but when they do, well it's already too late.
I'm a firm believer in open government - these people were elected by us, so why the fuck should they keep anything secret from us? They don't even have a right to do it, in my opinion. Sure, there's a shit-ton that most Canadians and Americans wouldn't give two shits about reading - but there's a minority, like myself and a few others, that would actually care about the little shit that goes on.
The open government creates more pressure for the government to do what's best for the country, not just their party or personal interests. And the fear of having rising tension between different groups would make sure that everyone is included, not just from your country, but to the world (example: If you're gonna bomb the shit out of a country, then one would have to declare so to your people - thus making wars only out of absolute necessary, not pointless escapades.
But in an age where Politicans advertise that "I'm just like you!", they're treating you as though you're a bigger douche than they are. Think about Bush - his whole campaign was "I'm just like you" and it worked. Do you think you could run a country, you asshat? Do you really give a flying fuck about balancing a budget, improving the state of the country, solving poverty and diseases, keeping the infasctructure strong, and most importantly, looking out for the population of an entire country? Of course not, your major dilemma is what the fuck you're going to eat tonight - home cooked or take out, or if you're younger, why that bitch of an ex-girlfriend slept with your friend while you were still together. But you voted for Bush cause he's just like you. And you're getting what you voted for - a trainwreck of a leader.
Canada's not innocent of this either - the only advantage we have is that it's a minority government and a different electorial process (vote in ridings for a specific person, not vote for one person in all the country). Harper can't just fuck off and do whatever he wants cause his opposition can shut him down.
But the states? Yeah, you're fucked.
-Mark
Thursday, June 15, 2006
The end of my generation, part 3: Religious Nutbag
Introduction + Part 1: Wannabe Rapper
Part 2: Emo
Religious Nutbag: You've grown up getting up early on Sunday mornings and listening to some old dude ramble about how Jesus was holy and why God would kick the fuck out of you if you didn't believe in him. You once questioned the point, but after your parents threatened you with eternal damnation, you decided everything the Bible says must be right.
You always wear a collared shirt and tuck in your pants - God demands it. The more you learn about Jesus and co, the more you realize how much better you are than everyone - but instead of just leaving it at that, you dig deeper into the Bible, ignoring reality and the changes in society. You briefly become a recluse. That fades away because you still go to Church on Sunday, which is also the only time you go outside during this part of your life.
Through your blind acceptance of customs from 2000 years ago, you realize how screwed the world is without your constant harping on the heathens. You first go out to street corners to read scripture that you wonder why it's written like a retarded kid's attempt at a poem, but regardless you read it and make many people uncomfortable. When confronted, you quote the Bible endlessly. People get into arguments that you never could have started even though you approached and criticized them first, but even though you want to throw the Bible through their head, you maintain your stature and tell them they're going to hell. They leave before you do, so you figure you've won.
Your idiotic beliefs go deeper to the point that you reject common sense and facts. The world was obviously created in 10,000 years, despite the... trillions of evidence that say otherwise. The Big Bang is a fictional tale told to people to counter your obviously and unquestionably true Bible. Because you have a hard time accepting life is pointless, God must have created you. To further close any other gaps from people with brains, God created you in his image, cause he's a self-richeous prick that wants constant thanks, despite him being all good.
Of course, as time goes on, you get out of the ses-pool of high school heathenry and get paid into University by your parents. You naturally go into theology cause studying anything else with the word science is the study of lies, and arts students are just homosexuals under a guise.
Your eyes open how tame highschool was in sin compared to reality. The TV sells sex, which appalls you - girls sleep with men.. multiple men.. without even thinking about getting married... and although you've never seen it, Brokeback Mountain is obviously directed, written, and starring the devil. Anyone that watches it is going to hell - in fact, you think that it's the first sign of the apocalypse.
You're still in your early-twenties, and you decide to launch a crusade against the evil - you use the media to sound even more insane than you already are, you stage dumbassed protests, and you beat up a hooker.. er, a girl supporting abortion. You're doing well. You graduate from theology top in your class, and hated by everyone, you stay at the church and start studying to become a priest.
This takes some time, especially with your frequent protests about why women shouldn't have rights, why gays are destroying everything including your dinner, and how pre-martial sex is the most evil thing in the world.
But something hits you that you didn't expect - there's a bunch of crazy fucks in the middle east that are just as pushy as you. You don't believe in war when it's you getting hurt, but you support bombing the shit out of them in an effort to control them. Luckily for you, God has told you he wants you to send non-believers instead of you - but he's also given you the opportunity to take away everything they need to be safe, but they didn't deserve it anyway, the heathens.
You receive strong criticism of both your war, Bible, faith, leadership, and your unwaivering ability to contradict yourself every two days. This is only a minor problem, however, cause you assume they're going to hell and go on a rampage, spreading your heavenly terror out across as much of the world as you can.
You're in your mid-30s now, and hated by everyone in the planet. Except Jesus, who's already dead. You've become a full-out Priest, and are harping your message out across the church, and the community. You've got a set of followers, who you'd gladly throw in front of a bullet to save yourself cause you're more holy, and an angry mob of devil incarnates at your door protesting all your human rights violations.
At this point, one of three things happens.
One: You confront the mob, trying to calm them down by telling them they're going to hell and you're going to heaven, but it seems to unexplainedly make them more angry. You're carried off and forced to watch your Bible dissected by facts, which you still refute. At this point, you're beaten to death. Nothing happens to your soul.
Two: You take refuge in the church for years, emerging only after people have forgotten about your stupidity. You start right up again, and are building up a following again. You hate homosexuality, but one day a class of 7-year-olds looks hot for some reason, and you convince yourself God wouldn't give you these urges if he didn't want you to do them in his name. Years pass from that exhilarating experience, but a court case is brought up, that you lose miserably cause the courts hate God. You are thrown in jail, where you're routinely forced into homosexual acts. You wonder why God has forsaken you, but still have faith this all has a meaning. A huge guy named Bubba rapes you so hard it wrecks your internal organs and you bleed internally to death, where unfortunately your cellmate is a necropheliac... things get messy, there's a riot, but you're dead already... and again, nothing happens to your soul.
Three: You go to your bishop for guidance. He rapes you.
Up next: part 4, Goth
-Mark
Part 2: Emo
Religious Nutbag: You've grown up getting up early on Sunday mornings and listening to some old dude ramble about how Jesus was holy and why God would kick the fuck out of you if you didn't believe in him. You once questioned the point, but after your parents threatened you with eternal damnation, you decided everything the Bible says must be right.
You always wear a collared shirt and tuck in your pants - God demands it. The more you learn about Jesus and co, the more you realize how much better you are than everyone - but instead of just leaving it at that, you dig deeper into the Bible, ignoring reality and the changes in society. You briefly become a recluse. That fades away because you still go to Church on Sunday, which is also the only time you go outside during this part of your life.
Through your blind acceptance of customs from 2000 years ago, you realize how screwed the world is without your constant harping on the heathens. You first go out to street corners to read scripture that you wonder why it's written like a retarded kid's attempt at a poem, but regardless you read it and make many people uncomfortable. When confronted, you quote the Bible endlessly. People get into arguments that you never could have started even though you approached and criticized them first, but even though you want to throw the Bible through their head, you maintain your stature and tell them they're going to hell. They leave before you do, so you figure you've won.
Your idiotic beliefs go deeper to the point that you reject common sense and facts. The world was obviously created in 10,000 years, despite the... trillions of evidence that say otherwise. The Big Bang is a fictional tale told to people to counter your obviously and unquestionably true Bible. Because you have a hard time accepting life is pointless, God must have created you. To further close any other gaps from people with brains, God created you in his image, cause he's a self-richeous prick that wants constant thanks, despite him being all good.
Of course, as time goes on, you get out of the ses-pool of high school heathenry and get paid into University by your parents. You naturally go into theology cause studying anything else with the word science is the study of lies, and arts students are just homosexuals under a guise.
Your eyes open how tame highschool was in sin compared to reality. The TV sells sex, which appalls you - girls sleep with men.. multiple men.. without even thinking about getting married... and although you've never seen it, Brokeback Mountain is obviously directed, written, and starring the devil. Anyone that watches it is going to hell - in fact, you think that it's the first sign of the apocalypse.
You're still in your early-twenties, and you decide to launch a crusade against the evil - you use the media to sound even more insane than you already are, you stage dumbassed protests, and you beat up a hooker.. er, a girl supporting abortion. You're doing well. You graduate from theology top in your class, and hated by everyone, you stay at the church and start studying to become a priest.
This takes some time, especially with your frequent protests about why women shouldn't have rights, why gays are destroying everything including your dinner, and how pre-martial sex is the most evil thing in the world.
But something hits you that you didn't expect - there's a bunch of crazy fucks in the middle east that are just as pushy as you. You don't believe in war when it's you getting hurt, but you support bombing the shit out of them in an effort to control them. Luckily for you, God has told you he wants you to send non-believers instead of you - but he's also given you the opportunity to take away everything they need to be safe, but they didn't deserve it anyway, the heathens.
You receive strong criticism of both your war, Bible, faith, leadership, and your unwaivering ability to contradict yourself every two days. This is only a minor problem, however, cause you assume they're going to hell and go on a rampage, spreading your heavenly terror out across as much of the world as you can.
You're in your mid-30s now, and hated by everyone in the planet. Except Jesus, who's already dead. You've become a full-out Priest, and are harping your message out across the church, and the community. You've got a set of followers, who you'd gladly throw in front of a bullet to save yourself cause you're more holy, and an angry mob of devil incarnates at your door protesting all your human rights violations.
At this point, one of three things happens.
One: You confront the mob, trying to calm them down by telling them they're going to hell and you're going to heaven, but it seems to unexplainedly make them more angry. You're carried off and forced to watch your Bible dissected by facts, which you still refute. At this point, you're beaten to death. Nothing happens to your soul.
Two: You take refuge in the church for years, emerging only after people have forgotten about your stupidity. You start right up again, and are building up a following again. You hate homosexuality, but one day a class of 7-year-olds looks hot for some reason, and you convince yourself God wouldn't give you these urges if he didn't want you to do them in his name. Years pass from that exhilarating experience, but a court case is brought up, that you lose miserably cause the courts hate God. You are thrown in jail, where you're routinely forced into homosexual acts. You wonder why God has forsaken you, but still have faith this all has a meaning. A huge guy named Bubba rapes you so hard it wrecks your internal organs and you bleed internally to death, where unfortunately your cellmate is a necropheliac... things get messy, there's a riot, but you're dead already... and again, nothing happens to your soul.
Three: You go to your bishop for guidance. He rapes you.
Up next: part 4, Goth
-Mark
Tuesday, June 13, 2006
Half-assed explanation
I'm not dead, just been out of town for the last week (thank god/evolution.. I was ready to fuckin' kill everyone that lives here, too). I'll blog my Religious Nutbag part 3 soon.
Corpse.
-Mark
Corpse.
-Mark
Thursday, June 01, 2006
The end of my generation, part 2: Emo
So I'm back again, this time with part two (of this ever growing series.. I've got at least two more good ones, and ideas swelling) of The end of my generation. If you wonder what the hell I'm talking about, the introduction and part one is right here. Read that first if you haven't yet.
Moving on. . . part two.
Emo: Your life has been an absolute hell, even though it's been exactly the same as everyone elses - the only difference is that you cracked under the minimal pressure. Apparently you thought High School would be sunshine and rainbows and everyone would be hugging, and when someone made fun of you, you cried for hours.
You believe you're a loner, and you are, but only because you've made yourself one. The cuccoon of your own stupidity has blocked oxygen from your brain, keeping you from making rational decisions, specifically with the clothing selection. In order to be different from everyone else, you dress like you showered in your jeans and then rode them in the dryer, because they're now so tight any kind of movement rips them - which would usually be bad, but apparently in your "unique" style, you thought it would be cool. You wear a tie with a t-shirt or a really shitty button-up shirt - you claim it's a statement about the 9-5 workingman, but the truth is you just think people will talk to you if you wear it.
A tragic hair searing accident made your hair ridiculously uneven, some of it covering your eyes - but again, it's different and totally not retarded, so you leave it. You manage to bruise your face by walking into things because your depth perception is off, but you make up another lie that supports your made-up "my life is hell" story.
You claim to be your own person, but deep down you know damn well that you look like a dumbass, and that the attention you get is why you do it. If nobody noticed you dressing like such, you'd change. But you're unique, cause you dress just as stupidly as everyone else around you.
With the public eye spurning you, you turn to the only other viable place to get attention - the internet. You take your made-up life online, and are pleased to find other idiots giving you sympathy and encouraging you. You call them "friends", but there's no fucking way you'd ever meet them. You're now popular in your cyber-world, but it's not enough for you.
So you start posting shitty poems to get more attention when your readership starts to dip - poems you claimed were "just for you". Whenever you receive ANY criticism whatsoever, you launch of barrage of self-defence tactics, which range from calling them 'mean' to telling them 'they don't understand me'.
You pretend you're educated on actual issues, like politics or environmentalism, but you know jackshit. Whenever you get into an argument over it, you get caught in your traps and resort to your usual fallback - they're mean or just don't get you.
Time goes on, and you continue to have hairstyle and warddrobe malfunctions, while desparately trying to stay in the attention circle. You'll take anything to try and tell people smarter than you your opinion, but when it's to no avail, you start dabbling in lighter drugs for artistic inspiration, which you believe you have talent in. You don't.
Your emotional front starts to crumble when people stop giving a shit about anything you say or do. You begin to cave to the "popular" things, like smoking and drinking and drugs, all the while criticizing the people that do it, making you a delicious hypocrite, although you'd claim otherwise.
You end up in college or University for something in the arts, as you continue to chase the dream that someone will notice your black-hole of talent. You tell yourself and anyone that'll listen that you're a shy person that loves humanity and you don't like corporations, but you'd sell out instantly if anyone ever offered you something.... anything, really.
You stumble through college acting the same way you did in high school, proving to the world that you've maxed out intellectually when you were about 17. Now in your early 20s, you find out that your art that nobody gets isn't marketable, nor is your shitty poems. You work in some retail job for years, during this time you manage to meet a girl that's so pale your surprised she doesn't vaporize when the sun hits her skin. She's just as fucked up in the head as you are, and she likes it that you're a tool/emotional.
You fall head over heels for her, only because she's the only one that'll listen to your unending complaining. This is the happiest you'll ever be, and after copulating and a near-pregnancy, she realizes what a deadbeat you are and leaves you for someone with a real future.
You wonder why your BA in Art History can't land you a job - but to counter the depression of being in a dead-end job and now without a girlfriend, you listen to bad music from angry middle class teens that you totally get. However, you listen to it way too much and it starts to melt your brain, making you more depressed.
The internet once again becomes your haven, where you even more desparately try to get attention, this time by taking a razorblade to your forearms and then posting pictures of it. People ask you 'what's wrong?' and you make an even more elaborate lie about how you were beaten as a child and that nobody understood you and you were made fun of etc etc etc, and how you'd tried to commit suicide once but couldn't do it. The people listening act like they're concerned, but they wouldn't even remember your name if you died. You know this, but pretend they care.
You spend years in your parent's basement on the computer talking to your 65,000 myspace friends, while your few real friends have realized how much of an idiot they were to dress like a 1980's backup dancer for Pat Benetar. After your internet-friends refuse to meet you, you spiral down into an emo chatroom, where people are talking about suicide. After a brief conversation with a few, your last-ditch for attention reaches the extreme.
Trying to make friends, you slit your wrists. You didn't expect it'd hurt as much, and the blood spray scares you. You realize immediately what a bad idea this was and how you don't actually want to die, but apparently a band-aid won't stop the bleeding. You run around the basement trying to wrap the wrist in something, the blood spraying all over the walls.
You get light-headed, which only makes you more desparate. You call for help upstairs, but remember your parents are out for the weekend. You try and call the police, but with minimal bloodflow to your hands, you can't pick up the phone and dial.
You manage after a few minutes to dial 9-1. Alas though, you've lost too much blood, and before you can hit the last button you slip into a coma.
Your last thoughts are "maybe someone will give me a big funeral". You bleed to death days before anyone finds your badly-dressed corpse, and instead of a big funeral, they sell your body to pig farmers, making that the most useful you've ever been to society.
Or: Moments before slitting your wrist, you realize that how pathetic you are if this is what you're going to do for attention. You back away from the computer, look at your life, and vow to do something with it - you cut your hair in the bathroom, change into actual clothes, and hurry to the front door - you've got a new lease on life, and you scream happily as you burst outside.
In your glee, you skip out into the street without looking first. A city bus plows into you, killing you not even 20 feet from your front door, which you left unlocked. People loot your home as you lie in the middle of the road.
Your last thoughts are of that girl who's name you forget when you were 14, the one that made you go Emo in the first place. With only yourself to blame for what's happened in your life, you bitch up again and blame her.
Up Next: Part 3, Religious Nutbag
-Mark
Moving on. . . part two.
Emo: Your life has been an absolute hell, even though it's been exactly the same as everyone elses - the only difference is that you cracked under the minimal pressure. Apparently you thought High School would be sunshine and rainbows and everyone would be hugging, and when someone made fun of you, you cried for hours.
You believe you're a loner, and you are, but only because you've made yourself one. The cuccoon of your own stupidity has blocked oxygen from your brain, keeping you from making rational decisions, specifically with the clothing selection. In order to be different from everyone else, you dress like you showered in your jeans and then rode them in the dryer, because they're now so tight any kind of movement rips them - which would usually be bad, but apparently in your "unique" style, you thought it would be cool. You wear a tie with a t-shirt or a really shitty button-up shirt - you claim it's a statement about the 9-5 workingman, but the truth is you just think people will talk to you if you wear it.
A tragic hair searing accident made your hair ridiculously uneven, some of it covering your eyes - but again, it's different and totally not retarded, so you leave it. You manage to bruise your face by walking into things because your depth perception is off, but you make up another lie that supports your made-up "my life is hell" story.
You claim to be your own person, but deep down you know damn well that you look like a dumbass, and that the attention you get is why you do it. If nobody noticed you dressing like such, you'd change. But you're unique, cause you dress just as stupidly as everyone else around you.
With the public eye spurning you, you turn to the only other viable place to get attention - the internet. You take your made-up life online, and are pleased to find other idiots giving you sympathy and encouraging you. You call them "friends", but there's no fucking way you'd ever meet them. You're now popular in your cyber-world, but it's not enough for you.
So you start posting shitty poems to get more attention when your readership starts to dip - poems you claimed were "just for you". Whenever you receive ANY criticism whatsoever, you launch of barrage of self-defence tactics, which range from calling them 'mean' to telling them 'they don't understand me'.
You pretend you're educated on actual issues, like politics or environmentalism, but you know jackshit. Whenever you get into an argument over it, you get caught in your traps and resort to your usual fallback - they're mean or just don't get you.
Time goes on, and you continue to have hairstyle and warddrobe malfunctions, while desparately trying to stay in the attention circle. You'll take anything to try and tell people smarter than you your opinion, but when it's to no avail, you start dabbling in lighter drugs for artistic inspiration, which you believe you have talent in. You don't.
Your emotional front starts to crumble when people stop giving a shit about anything you say or do. You begin to cave to the "popular" things, like smoking and drinking and drugs, all the while criticizing the people that do it, making you a delicious hypocrite, although you'd claim otherwise.
You end up in college or University for something in the arts, as you continue to chase the dream that someone will notice your black-hole of talent. You tell yourself and anyone that'll listen that you're a shy person that loves humanity and you don't like corporations, but you'd sell out instantly if anyone ever offered you something.... anything, really.
You stumble through college acting the same way you did in high school, proving to the world that you've maxed out intellectually when you were about 17. Now in your early 20s, you find out that your art that nobody gets isn't marketable, nor is your shitty poems. You work in some retail job for years, during this time you manage to meet a girl that's so pale your surprised she doesn't vaporize when the sun hits her skin. She's just as fucked up in the head as you are, and she likes it that you're a tool/emotional.
You fall head over heels for her, only because she's the only one that'll listen to your unending complaining. This is the happiest you'll ever be, and after copulating and a near-pregnancy, she realizes what a deadbeat you are and leaves you for someone with a real future.
You wonder why your BA in Art History can't land you a job - but to counter the depression of being in a dead-end job and now without a girlfriend, you listen to bad music from angry middle class teens that you totally get. However, you listen to it way too much and it starts to melt your brain, making you more depressed.
The internet once again becomes your haven, where you even more desparately try to get attention, this time by taking a razorblade to your forearms and then posting pictures of it. People ask you 'what's wrong?' and you make an even more elaborate lie about how you were beaten as a child and that nobody understood you and you were made fun of etc etc etc, and how you'd tried to commit suicide once but couldn't do it. The people listening act like they're concerned, but they wouldn't even remember your name if you died. You know this, but pretend they care.
You spend years in your parent's basement on the computer talking to your 65,000 myspace friends, while your few real friends have realized how much of an idiot they were to dress like a 1980's backup dancer for Pat Benetar. After your internet-friends refuse to meet you, you spiral down into an emo chatroom, where people are talking about suicide. After a brief conversation with a few, your last-ditch for attention reaches the extreme.
Trying to make friends, you slit your wrists. You didn't expect it'd hurt as much, and the blood spray scares you. You realize immediately what a bad idea this was and how you don't actually want to die, but apparently a band-aid won't stop the bleeding. You run around the basement trying to wrap the wrist in something, the blood spraying all over the walls.
You get light-headed, which only makes you more desparate. You call for help upstairs, but remember your parents are out for the weekend. You try and call the police, but with minimal bloodflow to your hands, you can't pick up the phone and dial.
You manage after a few minutes to dial 9-1. Alas though, you've lost too much blood, and before you can hit the last button you slip into a coma.
Your last thoughts are "maybe someone will give me a big funeral". You bleed to death days before anyone finds your badly-dressed corpse, and instead of a big funeral, they sell your body to pig farmers, making that the most useful you've ever been to society.
Or: Moments before slitting your wrist, you realize that how pathetic you are if this is what you're going to do for attention. You back away from the computer, look at your life, and vow to do something with it - you cut your hair in the bathroom, change into actual clothes, and hurry to the front door - you've got a new lease on life, and you scream happily as you burst outside.
In your glee, you skip out into the street without looking first. A city bus plows into you, killing you not even 20 feet from your front door, which you left unlocked. People loot your home as you lie in the middle of the road.
Your last thoughts are of that girl who's name you forget when you were 14, the one that made you go Emo in the first place. With only yourself to blame for what's happened in your life, you bitch up again and blame her.
Up Next: Part 3, Religious Nutbag
-Mark
Monday, May 29, 2006
The end of my generation, part 1: Wannabe Rappers
In my neverending pursuit to understand my idiotic generation, I came to a realization. Luckily for myself, I chose to shun society until I turned about 19, and now, two years later, I wish I had continued to listen to my first instinct. In the pointless time I've spent in University, I've done far more to notice styles and catch up on my generation's lack of it.
Now, most decades, or generations of people in Western society are categorized by some term, which follows a close relationship with their clothes. From the free-love anti-bomb of the 60's, the Disco "tightpants" of the 70s, to Yuppies and Generation X, and the brief flirtation in the mid-late 90's with "Generation Y", to yes, even the wife-beating "let's pretend we're a family with values" of the 50s overshadowed by the Cold War, each have distinctive qualities that define them and make them easily recognizable.
This got me thinking: What will my generation's youth be defined as? Using the power of the internet and my bus rides throughout the city every day, I managed to narrow it down to the dominant styles - each are distinct enough from the common flow of jeans-and-tshirt people, and both are frequent subjects of ridicule from anyone with any kind of common sense. These people are the lowest common denominator of my generation, and thus are how older generations assume we all are.
But like our burned-out hippy parents that gave into the man after realizing that they were suddenly the ones with power and money, I forsee that these styles have dismal ends. So I have handily outlined what these are for future reference and "I told you so" creditials. Today: Part 1 of this (at least two-part) series, The Wannabe Rap style.
The wannabe Rap style: You're white but you wish you were black, or failing that, a hip hop star. Eminem has given you all the inspiration you need to prove that growing up in Suburbia is just the same as growing up sleeping on the streets, and even though you've never touched a gun before and you don't know where the safety is on it, you'd definitely be able to bust a cap in anyone over even the smallest of arguments. You spend all your money on bling and designer clothes, wear basketball jerseys of players you've never heard of but their name sounds black, and of course you're nothing without your pin-striped cap put on to cover your right ear - but failing a cap, you've got some sweatbands. Accessorizing is a must here; you're not the baddest motherfucker in your middle-class hood unless you've got at least $250 of jewelery. If any single piece of clothing is less than 100 dollars, you're worse than ghetto, which you don't know what that word means but it's gotta be good cause everyone says it.
You have a slavic devotion to hip hop and rap. 50 cent is your god. You totally understand what it's like to be him, growing up on the streets, dealing rock, which you assume is coke but aren't sure, and getting in drivebys. That is simply your entire life to this point.
Your dream is to sleep with as many girls as possible, and with your 'hood, you frequently refer to how they are 'bitches' and that you're gonna get some play any day. She'll go down on you unquestionably, with her DD breasts and 100-pound body. After you've slept with her, or got a blowjob (which you'll later tell your friends was sex), you brush her off to venture to the next girl, but of course, if she dares to move on, she's a slut. You are incapable of loving a girl - although you have no problem with lying to their face about it to get action. You call the shots in a relationship, or at least think you do, and don't understand when she's mad. You assume it's because she's a bitch.
You dabble with weed to start, which quickly becomes your favourite (and only) pasttime with your friends. After getting high a bunch of times off other people's weed, you realize you need money to support this habit. Getting a job is out of the question, cause you're a gangsta and working is for losers and bitches, so a small Break and Enter is in order. You're successful at first, but each attempt gets you closer and closer to getting caught, and you get cocky. You finally get caught, and your friends have hung you out to dry, fleeing the scene before you could. You try to escape but trip over your baggy clothing - but you're lucky, and get a slap on the wrist punishment, which you assume is you "putting the man in place". You're now terrified of getting sent to prison, but that's not enough to deter you from petty theft.
You venture into more hard drugs, enjoying the high more and more - but it's more and more expensive, too, so you start selling whatever you can - except what you wear. That's part of your skin now. You've become a junkie, but you luck out while baked and find a girl. She's willing to put up with your bullshit cause she's partially retarded, but you don't care cause you can't stop staring at her chest. She has the potential to pull you out of your spiral, but you ignore that... after all, you're a gangsta.
Years have passed by now - you've got no job still, no prospects, no education, but you sure look pimp to 15 people, and everyone else is a hater. You need money, so you get a temp job while learning how to deal drugs. Your addiction to drugs eventually gets you fired, but it doesn't matter anymore cause you've become adept at selling drugs.
You have squabbles with other hoods over something retarded like land neither of you own or something either of you said. If it's not directly related to you, you get pulled into the fray 'backing up' your hood. It's a success! You get revenge by stabbing or beating someone from their hood - if you're lucky, they die. Otherwise, they get back to their base. Things are great for you and your crib - and there couldn't possibly be any reprecussions for this.
Of course there is, and a overblown gang war is started. You get your hands on a gun, and although you're clueless to how to properly use it, you've watched enough movies and music videos to assume you do.
From here, one of two things happen.
1: You get into a firefight with the other gang, and are successful. You held the gun sideways and didn't get shot, and got away with minimal collateral damage. One of your crew is hurt, but your personal "surgeons" get the bullet out and then start drinking away the night. You wake up in a puddle of your own vomit and with a killer headache, and after stumbling out into the day, life is great for a few weeks.
But then the cops catch up to you. You know they're close to catching you, and because you're on coke you're extremely paranoid about getting caught. Unfortunately for you, you have a mild OD and wake up in the hospital. There's a court case, which you lose horribly but end up in rehab first by a stroke of luck.
Six months later, you're declared healed, and head out into the world again, ready to instantly forget what you've just been court-ordered. But wow, you're getting older, now in your late 20s. You find out your crew is a shade of it's former self, some in jail, others rehab, and a retaliation took place while you were in rehab, so some are dead too. You get high and drunk to honour them, and are caught a few days later committing some random crime, but again, are let off with community service. You ignore it, break parole on something minor like getting drunk or breaking curfew. You end up in jail - your worst fear.
You're a pretty boy, and those few months are terrible. You've done things that have scarred you for life, and your asshole sure is sore, but now you've got ex-con streetcred. You've got no place to live, and your crew is strangely rejecting you, or at least, what's left of it. Your girl is long gone, moved on to someone you kind of know, but you pass it off as she's a bitch.
You've got nothing going for you, but you still think you're badass. You get way over your head trying to get back to the top, and you're gunned down by a rival, or arrested in a raid. If you're not dead, you're now in jail for the rest of your life.
2: You get in the firefight, and you suffer heavy losses - apparently they were expecting you, or they had better guns. You tried everything, even holding your gun sideways, but it didn't work. Half your crew is injured badly (including yourself), or dead, or the smart ones didn't go and left the crew (the bitches). You're in hospital for awhile, and the recovery is long, but you haven't forgotten what's happened. You're in your late 20's, but the ragged remains of your crew band together for the last stand. It's the night before your attack, and you're getting high/drunk to prepare. You've got a bigger gun from a guy that knew a guy, but the word spread too quickly - the rival knows you were coming, and they attack first. If you're not gunned down right there, you again suffer bad injuries and are back in the hospital. You've lost a lot of normal functions, and it hurts to move sometimes.
You're just short of 30 when are released a second time. You find a new girl, clueless to where the first went, and try and clean up - you get a temp job, which turns into your permanent job, you have a few kids (if you haven't had a few already that you dunno where they are but still have to pay child support). You wonder how your life could have ended up this way, so dead-end. At least you stayed out of jail - but just barely. You still get high from time to time, but nothing hard anymore - your girl has threatened you about that, and you listen because you're scared of living on the street like you claimed you were from back when you were 19. You're a burnout, but you sure looked badass in your early 20s. You regret everything but refuse to admit it to yourself.
Your girl leaves you before you turn 40. Dejected and useless to society, you turn to drugs again. You either get arrested or OD. If you're not dead, you're in jail, and just want to see your kids again. But their mother won't let them see you - and who could blame her? You'd cry, but you're too manly for that. You've wasted your life.
But you looked cool when you were 19.
Part 2 "Emo", next.
-Mark
Now, most decades, or generations of people in Western society are categorized by some term, which follows a close relationship with their clothes. From the free-love anti-bomb of the 60's, the Disco "tightpants" of the 70s, to Yuppies and Generation X, and the brief flirtation in the mid-late 90's with "Generation Y", to yes, even the wife-beating "let's pretend we're a family with values" of the 50s overshadowed by the Cold War, each have distinctive qualities that define them and make them easily recognizable.
This got me thinking: What will my generation's youth be defined as? Using the power of the internet and my bus rides throughout the city every day, I managed to narrow it down to the dominant styles - each are distinct enough from the common flow of jeans-and-tshirt people, and both are frequent subjects of ridicule from anyone with any kind of common sense. These people are the lowest common denominator of my generation, and thus are how older generations assume we all are.
But like our burned-out hippy parents that gave into the man after realizing that they were suddenly the ones with power and money, I forsee that these styles have dismal ends. So I have handily outlined what these are for future reference and "I told you so" creditials. Today: Part 1 of this (at least two-part) series, The Wannabe Rap style.
The wannabe Rap style: You're white but you wish you were black, or failing that, a hip hop star. Eminem has given you all the inspiration you need to prove that growing up in Suburbia is just the same as growing up sleeping on the streets, and even though you've never touched a gun before and you don't know where the safety is on it, you'd definitely be able to bust a cap in anyone over even the smallest of arguments. You spend all your money on bling and designer clothes, wear basketball jerseys of players you've never heard of but their name sounds black, and of course you're nothing without your pin-striped cap put on to cover your right ear - but failing a cap, you've got some sweatbands. Accessorizing is a must here; you're not the baddest motherfucker in your middle-class hood unless you've got at least $250 of jewelery. If any single piece of clothing is less than 100 dollars, you're worse than ghetto, which you don't know what that word means but it's gotta be good cause everyone says it.
You have a slavic devotion to hip hop and rap. 50 cent is your god. You totally understand what it's like to be him, growing up on the streets, dealing rock, which you assume is coke but aren't sure, and getting in drivebys. That is simply your entire life to this point.
Your dream is to sleep with as many girls as possible, and with your 'hood, you frequently refer to how they are 'bitches' and that you're gonna get some play any day. She'll go down on you unquestionably, with her DD breasts and 100-pound body. After you've slept with her, or got a blowjob (which you'll later tell your friends was sex), you brush her off to venture to the next girl, but of course, if she dares to move on, she's a slut. You are incapable of loving a girl - although you have no problem with lying to their face about it to get action. You call the shots in a relationship, or at least think you do, and don't understand when she's mad. You assume it's because she's a bitch.
You dabble with weed to start, which quickly becomes your favourite (and only) pasttime with your friends. After getting high a bunch of times off other people's weed, you realize you need money to support this habit. Getting a job is out of the question, cause you're a gangsta and working is for losers and bitches, so a small Break and Enter is in order. You're successful at first, but each attempt gets you closer and closer to getting caught, and you get cocky. You finally get caught, and your friends have hung you out to dry, fleeing the scene before you could. You try to escape but trip over your baggy clothing - but you're lucky, and get a slap on the wrist punishment, which you assume is you "putting the man in place". You're now terrified of getting sent to prison, but that's not enough to deter you from petty theft.
You venture into more hard drugs, enjoying the high more and more - but it's more and more expensive, too, so you start selling whatever you can - except what you wear. That's part of your skin now. You've become a junkie, but you luck out while baked and find a girl. She's willing to put up with your bullshit cause she's partially retarded, but you don't care cause you can't stop staring at her chest. She has the potential to pull you out of your spiral, but you ignore that... after all, you're a gangsta.
Years have passed by now - you've got no job still, no prospects, no education, but you sure look pimp to 15 people, and everyone else is a hater. You need money, so you get a temp job while learning how to deal drugs. Your addiction to drugs eventually gets you fired, but it doesn't matter anymore cause you've become adept at selling drugs.
You have squabbles with other hoods over something retarded like land neither of you own or something either of you said. If it's not directly related to you, you get pulled into the fray 'backing up' your hood. It's a success! You get revenge by stabbing or beating someone from their hood - if you're lucky, they die. Otherwise, they get back to their base. Things are great for you and your crib - and there couldn't possibly be any reprecussions for this.
Of course there is, and a overblown gang war is started. You get your hands on a gun, and although you're clueless to how to properly use it, you've watched enough movies and music videos to assume you do.
From here, one of two things happen.
1: You get into a firefight with the other gang, and are successful. You held the gun sideways and didn't get shot, and got away with minimal collateral damage. One of your crew is hurt, but your personal "surgeons" get the bullet out and then start drinking away the night. You wake up in a puddle of your own vomit and with a killer headache, and after stumbling out into the day, life is great for a few weeks.
But then the cops catch up to you. You know they're close to catching you, and because you're on coke you're extremely paranoid about getting caught. Unfortunately for you, you have a mild OD and wake up in the hospital. There's a court case, which you lose horribly but end up in rehab first by a stroke of luck.
Six months later, you're declared healed, and head out into the world again, ready to instantly forget what you've just been court-ordered. But wow, you're getting older, now in your late 20s. You find out your crew is a shade of it's former self, some in jail, others rehab, and a retaliation took place while you were in rehab, so some are dead too. You get high and drunk to honour them, and are caught a few days later committing some random crime, but again, are let off with community service. You ignore it, break parole on something minor like getting drunk or breaking curfew. You end up in jail - your worst fear.
You're a pretty boy, and those few months are terrible. You've done things that have scarred you for life, and your asshole sure is sore, but now you've got ex-con streetcred. You've got no place to live, and your crew is strangely rejecting you, or at least, what's left of it. Your girl is long gone, moved on to someone you kind of know, but you pass it off as she's a bitch.
You've got nothing going for you, but you still think you're badass. You get way over your head trying to get back to the top, and you're gunned down by a rival, or arrested in a raid. If you're not dead, you're now in jail for the rest of your life.
2: You get in the firefight, and you suffer heavy losses - apparently they were expecting you, or they had better guns. You tried everything, even holding your gun sideways, but it didn't work. Half your crew is injured badly (including yourself), or dead, or the smart ones didn't go and left the crew (the bitches). You're in hospital for awhile, and the recovery is long, but you haven't forgotten what's happened. You're in your late 20's, but the ragged remains of your crew band together for the last stand. It's the night before your attack, and you're getting high/drunk to prepare. You've got a bigger gun from a guy that knew a guy, but the word spread too quickly - the rival knows you were coming, and they attack first. If you're not gunned down right there, you again suffer bad injuries and are back in the hospital. You've lost a lot of normal functions, and it hurts to move sometimes.
You're just short of 30 when are released a second time. You find a new girl, clueless to where the first went, and try and clean up - you get a temp job, which turns into your permanent job, you have a few kids (if you haven't had a few already that you dunno where they are but still have to pay child support). You wonder how your life could have ended up this way, so dead-end. At least you stayed out of jail - but just barely. You still get high from time to time, but nothing hard anymore - your girl has threatened you about that, and you listen because you're scared of living on the street like you claimed you were from back when you were 19. You're a burnout, but you sure looked badass in your early 20s. You regret everything but refuse to admit it to yourself.
Your girl leaves you before you turn 40. Dejected and useless to society, you turn to drugs again. You either get arrested or OD. If you're not dead, you're in jail, and just want to see your kids again. But their mother won't let them see you - and who could blame her? You'd cry, but you're too manly for that. You've wasted your life.
But you looked cool when you were 19.
Part 2 "Emo", next.
-Mark
Saturday, May 20, 2006
Bigger Boys and Stolen Sweethearts
It's been just under a week since my last ranting - truth be told, working full-time really has taken it out of me, and my beloved internet has found itself neglected of a would-be linkslutter. However, there's still been a few issues that have "arisen", so to speak.
I'll be the first to admit that a lot of people use XP illigitemately - but honestly, who gives a shit if we're screwing over a monopoly that's screwing over the consumer? Personally, I only use XP because it's the most popular platform that I know everything is made for. There's a Mac in my household, but yeah.. Mac.. no. I don't have the patience to learn all the intricases of Mac when Windows gladly fills my time with its endless problems.
But just the other day, I got a message, 6 months after I installed XP clean onto my system, that my copy of XP "may not be legitimate - you may be a victim of software fraud".
Gasp! You don't say, I'm a victim of getting something for free that I should be getting for free anyway? And what's that, you say? I'm inavertedly taking money away from Bill Gates, the richest man on the planet? I'm so ashamed of myself. Oh wait - I live below the poverty line (technically) - and I really don't feel like paying $150+ for a system with countless bugs.
However, this little notification stored itself in my taskbar and wouldn't go away. Like most unused icons in the taskbar, if you forget they exist for a few days, they'll be hidden. So I just figured that if I ignore it, it'll go away.
Not so. Apparently this little fucker stays there all the time until you buy a legal copy. Well I was having none of that BS cluttering up my neglected taskbar, so I partook in some investigation to get rid of it - but no matter what I searched, the only way to seemingly dispose of it (for now) is to actually spend money... so screw that. I tried living with it for a few days, but found that it was an aesthetic headache, and I went into my sluething.
But this brings me to my handy little solution. All I had to do was go into the taskbar options, select the icon, and put it to "hide always", and poof, it's gone, at least off my visibility.
Which leads me to my final point. It seems that Microsoft just assumes/relies on people's general computer illiteracy to get by. Most people wouldn't have a clue how to get rid of that, or make it "go away" by proxy. Microsoft tries to appear legitimate, but given their exploits of routinely screwing over both the competitor and the consumer and avoiding being broken down (except for that one case, but yeah, do you feel like there's competition in the market now) for the better half of two decades. . . it doesn't happen. I mean, how many of you actually READ what the security updates are doing, or do you just mindlessly click "yes" so the popup will go away? How many of you have EVER noticed a performance boost from any update, ever?
It's just a thought - when I disabled the updates to stop the notifier from pissing me off, it "warned" me that I'd stop receiving critical updates. . . critical what? What has Windows EVER done for ANYONE apart from suck but be lucky enough to be in the right place at the right time (ie: The 80's, when everyone was high on coke and buying shit).
In my ideal utopic world, companies wouldn't be huge dicks. Oh, how I dream sometimes.
-Mark
I'll be the first to admit that a lot of people use XP illigitemately - but honestly, who gives a shit if we're screwing over a monopoly that's screwing over the consumer? Personally, I only use XP because it's the most popular platform that I know everything is made for. There's a Mac in my household, but yeah.. Mac.. no. I don't have the patience to learn all the intricases of Mac when Windows gladly fills my time with its endless problems.
But just the other day, I got a message, 6 months after I installed XP clean onto my system, that my copy of XP "may not be legitimate - you may be a victim of software fraud".
Gasp! You don't say, I'm a victim of getting something for free that I should be getting for free anyway? And what's that, you say? I'm inavertedly taking money away from Bill Gates, the richest man on the planet? I'm so ashamed of myself. Oh wait - I live below the poverty line (technically) - and I really don't feel like paying $150+ for a system with countless bugs.
However, this little notification stored itself in my taskbar and wouldn't go away. Like most unused icons in the taskbar, if you forget they exist for a few days, they'll be hidden. So I just figured that if I ignore it, it'll go away.
Not so. Apparently this little fucker stays there all the time until you buy a legal copy. Well I was having none of that BS cluttering up my neglected taskbar, so I partook in some investigation to get rid of it - but no matter what I searched, the only way to seemingly dispose of it (for now) is to actually spend money... so screw that. I tried living with it for a few days, but found that it was an aesthetic headache, and I went into my sluething.
But this brings me to my handy little solution. All I had to do was go into the taskbar options, select the icon, and put it to "hide always", and poof, it's gone, at least off my visibility.
Which leads me to my final point. It seems that Microsoft just assumes/relies on people's general computer illiteracy to get by. Most people wouldn't have a clue how to get rid of that, or make it "go away" by proxy. Microsoft tries to appear legitimate, but given their exploits of routinely screwing over both the competitor and the consumer and avoiding being broken down (except for that one case, but yeah, do you feel like there's competition in the market now) for the better half of two decades. . . it doesn't happen. I mean, how many of you actually READ what the security updates are doing, or do you just mindlessly click "yes" so the popup will go away? How many of you have EVER noticed a performance boost from any update, ever?
It's just a thought - when I disabled the updates to stop the notifier from pissing me off, it "warned" me that I'd stop receiving critical updates. . . critical what? What has Windows EVER done for ANYONE apart from suck but be lucky enough to be in the right place at the right time (ie: The 80's, when everyone was high on coke and buying shit).
In my ideal utopic world, companies wouldn't be huge dicks. Oh, how I dream sometimes.
-Mark
Thursday, May 11, 2006
Knifes and Razorblades
Okay fuck it. I'm now breaking into the world of larger text adventures, only because I'm too lazy to constantly change the options. So enjoy being able to actually read my blog now. Let's move on.
So I'm riding home from work today, when I see a sign on a church yard. Usually I just laugh or scoff at how retarded the sayings are - because some idiotic proverb is not going to get me to join their cult. But this one got me pretty pissed off, for a variety of reasons...
It said "If evolution is real, then why do mothers still have only two hands?"
OH. I just stared at it for a bit - I suppose I shouldn't be that surprised, considering most churches get extremely arrogant when they know they can get away with bullshit like that. But first things first...
Okay yeah, it's mother's day soon, so I can see why they'd play off that angle. I dunno how the hell that'd get anyone to go there, but whatever. But more importantly, they're trying to guilt me into Mother's Day BS. Consumerism is pretty intertwined with Religion, especially the mainstream Christian ones. Look, I care about my mom, blah blah blah, but I really don't give a shit about Mother's Day. I don't live with her, and I'm pretty much anti-buying anyone something cause a company tells me too.. so Mother's Day really doesn't mean much to me - and yeah, some people will call me cheap, others a jerk, but they can fuck themselves. Unlike most people, I have convictions that I stick to. I hate religious and forced holidays - I'm more of the spontaneous nice/gifts. Anyway, getting off topic. So the sign was odd in that it promoted mother's day.
Oh, and let's not forget that it's pushing back women's rights. "Only two hands"... which pretty much implies that they do everything around the house/work, and take care of the kids. Yes, let's just shove them in a traditional role and thank them once a year for it. They're important for once a year. They do so much, but let's forget about it the rest of the year until we're guilted into thanking them in the most insincere way - by trying to buy their affection!
But most importantly about this sign, was it's little backhanded nadslap to politics. Let's take a relatively pointless holiday and make some rip at Evolution! Well if God knows everything and is all powerful, why the FUCK didn't he CREATE mothers with more than two hands? At least according to evolution one day she may have more.. but if she does, then she's an unholy hellish freak that God would shun. Because she wouldn't be made in his image. What a retarded theory, by the way. But hey, I'm sure creationism explains everything perfectly - except, you know, everything. I mean, don't give me this bullshit about God giving man the power to do whatever he wants, because he's all knowing and he would know beforehand that it'd turn into a major disaster where we kill each other over retarded shit (by the way, we've been killing ourselves for about 10,000 years. We're sure learning from our past).
If God really did create man, he fucked it up and then gave up, or God is a sadistic son of a bitch (maybe he's a cutter?).
-Mark
So I'm riding home from work today, when I see a sign on a church yard. Usually I just laugh or scoff at how retarded the sayings are - because some idiotic proverb is not going to get me to join their cult. But this one got me pretty pissed off, for a variety of reasons...
It said "If evolution is real, then why do mothers still have only two hands?"
OH. I just stared at it for a bit - I suppose I shouldn't be that surprised, considering most churches get extremely arrogant when they know they can get away with bullshit like that. But first things first...
Okay yeah, it's mother's day soon, so I can see why they'd play off that angle. I dunno how the hell that'd get anyone to go there, but whatever. But more importantly, they're trying to guilt me into Mother's Day BS. Consumerism is pretty intertwined with Religion, especially the mainstream Christian ones. Look, I care about my mom, blah blah blah, but I really don't give a shit about Mother's Day. I don't live with her, and I'm pretty much anti-buying anyone something cause a company tells me too.. so Mother's Day really doesn't mean much to me - and yeah, some people will call me cheap, others a jerk, but they can fuck themselves. Unlike most people, I have convictions that I stick to. I hate religious and forced holidays - I'm more of the spontaneous nice/gifts. Anyway, getting off topic. So the sign was odd in that it promoted mother's day.
Oh, and let's not forget that it's pushing back women's rights. "Only two hands"... which pretty much implies that they do everything around the house/work, and take care of the kids. Yes, let's just shove them in a traditional role and thank them once a year for it. They're important for once a year. They do so much, but let's forget about it the rest of the year until we're guilted into thanking them in the most insincere way - by trying to buy their affection!
But most importantly about this sign, was it's little backhanded nadslap to politics. Let's take a relatively pointless holiday and make some rip at Evolution! Well if God knows everything and is all powerful, why the FUCK didn't he CREATE mothers with more than two hands? At least according to evolution one day she may have more.. but if she does, then she's an unholy hellish freak that God would shun. Because she wouldn't be made in his image. What a retarded theory, by the way. But hey, I'm sure creationism explains everything perfectly - except, you know, everything. I mean, don't give me this bullshit about God giving man the power to do whatever he wants, because he's all knowing and he would know beforehand that it'd turn into a major disaster where we kill each other over retarded shit (by the way, we've been killing ourselves for about 10,000 years. We're sure learning from our past).
If God really did create man, he fucked it up and then gave up, or God is a sadistic son of a bitch (maybe he's a cutter?).
-Mark
Tuesday, May 09, 2006
(Guitar Solo)
So I've been working full time like a chump now for a week and a half or whatever. The job isn't excessively terrible, although unbelieveably monotonous - but that's not what I'm bitching about today (I'll save that for later).
What I am bitching about is the simply awful names companies are coming up with for their products. I mean most computers are just a jumble of numbers and letters that nobody understands but assumes that higher numbers and more letters = better computer, but there's a lot of mindless shit names. I mean the "Happy Meal"? What the fuck. You won't be so happy after those burgers congeal and block your heart and you die...
Or how about cigarattes? "Lucky Strike"? The only luck you'll get from smoking that is getting cancer and living with cancer for years, watching your health deteroirate while your family gives up on the medicare cause you're "not worth it anymore". Lucky you.
But specifically, there are some AWFUL names for alcohol (I work at a liquor warehouse... go figure my rage would lead here). While piling booze on skids, My co-workers and I have found booze like "Fat Bastard", booze that requires a Mensa membership to spell, and my personal favourite: Golden Wedding.
Golden fucking Wedding? That sounds more like a porn movie, not a wine. Honestly, just think about that for a second. Go to your friends and say "Wanna have Golden Wedding tonight?"
Or what about an actual golden wedding? "You may now piss on the bride."
I can think of a billion better names for a wine. And another thing - if your wine is the colour of piss, that's not something I'd want to advertise.
-Mark
Good luck on guessing this post's song.
What I am bitching about is the simply awful names companies are coming up with for their products. I mean most computers are just a jumble of numbers and letters that nobody understands but assumes that higher numbers and more letters = better computer, but there's a lot of mindless shit names. I mean the "Happy Meal"? What the fuck. You won't be so happy after those burgers congeal and block your heart and you die...
Or how about cigarattes? "Lucky Strike"? The only luck you'll get from smoking that is getting cancer and living with cancer for years, watching your health deteroirate while your family gives up on the medicare cause you're "not worth it anymore". Lucky you.
But specifically, there are some AWFUL names for alcohol (I work at a liquor warehouse... go figure my rage would lead here). While piling booze on skids, My co-workers and I have found booze like "Fat Bastard", booze that requires a Mensa membership to spell, and my personal favourite: Golden Wedding.
Golden fucking Wedding? That sounds more like a porn movie, not a wine. Honestly, just think about that for a second. Go to your friends and say "Wanna have Golden Wedding tonight?"
Or what about an actual golden wedding? "You may now piss on the bride."
I can think of a billion better names for a wine. And another thing - if your wine is the colour of piss, that's not something I'd want to advertise.
-Mark
Good luck on guessing this post's song.
Tuesday, May 02, 2006
Friday, April 28, 2006
If that grass looks fun to roll in, roll in that fuckin' grass!
I spoke too soon (or they read my rant).
HIRED LIKE A CAPITALIST WHORE!
-Mark
(Last song was Okkervil River - Happy Hearts)
HIRED LIKE A CAPITALIST WHORE!
-Mark
(Last song was Okkervil River - Happy Hearts)
Thursday, April 27, 2006
He held me down, and made me feel as bad as he
So I've been looking for a job. I landed a few interviews, but typical of me, I usually have a moment in them where I choke on the bullshit I'm feeding the employers and spew some rabid truth, and that fucks the job over for me.
But if some douchebag can get a job, especially the shit I'm applying for (honestly, why even BOTHER interviewing people for warehouse jobs?), since when is it a negative to have solid work experience, but with no conflicts with a boss? I've got three references and apparently that means shit, cause let's hire some pot-smoking douchetard to steal half our shit and show up late all the time.
What.the.fuck. I mean a lot of the reason I don't have a fulltime job is cause there's simply an ass-ton of jobs I won't do (ie: anything that makes me deal with customers. Cause the general public are fucking morons.), but it's not like I'm looking for anything unbelievably difficult. Just shove me behind the scenes, doing manual labour type-shit, I don't give a fuck. It's not like there's only a select number of people that can stack skids for transport.
Fuckers! I WANT A JOB (another one).
-Mark
(Last song was Franz Ferdinand - Take Me Out, Scissor Sisters rendition)
But if some douchebag can get a job, especially the shit I'm applying for (honestly, why even BOTHER interviewing people for warehouse jobs?), since when is it a negative to have solid work experience, but with no conflicts with a boss? I've got three references and apparently that means shit, cause let's hire some pot-smoking douchetard to steal half our shit and show up late all the time.
What.the.fuck. I mean a lot of the reason I don't have a fulltime job is cause there's simply an ass-ton of jobs I won't do (ie: anything that makes me deal with customers. Cause the general public are fucking morons.), but it's not like I'm looking for anything unbelievably difficult. Just shove me behind the scenes, doing manual labour type-shit, I don't give a fuck. It's not like there's only a select number of people that can stack skids for transport.
Fuckers! I WANT A JOB (another one).
-Mark
(Last song was Franz Ferdinand - Take Me Out, Scissor Sisters rendition)
Sunday, April 23, 2006
So if you're lonely, you know I'm here waiting for you
My internets is all dusty and cold, due primarily to my lack of anger-fueled love towards it (I hit you because I love you!). Of course, I could just do a shitty clip show that TV programs do when the writers are too high to think of anything original; but I digress from the point I haven't made yet.
I've come to realize over the last few years of my schooling that I'm not really learning anything - and that I'm a high-70's student (or a B+, for those of you that are in the "No child left behind" program, and are thus illiterate and mathematically retarded). Whenever I need to really know something, I just go back to one class in highschool - Grade 12 Communications. I've apparently learned an entire University degree when I was 18, because apart from reading idiotic essays from illectuals that are in more poverty than I am, most of the "information" I've learned in my degree is essentially just extensions on things I already knew.
Of course, given my degree, lots of the content I learn is opinion-based via the prof. (Think National Cinemas). I've had to endure 4 months and about 500 bucks out of my pocket on courses I absolutely don't give a shit about (like Soviet and Polish cinema), which although some have fading moments of interest, it's mostly harping the same shit for the entire course. There's a few problems here;
1: There isn't enough content to justify a 13-week (or god forbid, a 25 week) course that'll eventually lead to my degree/40,000 dollar debt. I'd take another course not in my major, but fuck, half these courses are required for me to graduate. I don't give a shit about Eisenstein's theory of montage (if you know the definition of "montage", you've just equalled Soviet filmmaker Sergei Eisenstein's life work), and knowing it doesn't justify making me sit through Battleship Potemkin, Strike, or anything else he's done. And for fucks sake, his essay in the book I was forced to pay 100 bucks for had DRAWINGS all over it. DONE BY THE BASTARD HIMSELF!. Anyway, it doesn't end here. I've already told people in my faculity (and they agree) that I'm basically writing the same essay over and over using different movies. I have my strengths when it comes to analytical essays (which, by the way, is all I'm ever required to write), and it's always Film Aesthetics, and bullshit (not in that order). I've sat through.. hmm.. lemme see here... about 150 movies in the last 8 months, and I've totalled 606 hours of class. . . . 324 of which was watching movies (approximately). So yeah, I'm sitting in a dark room for over half my year watching movies - sounds like a sweet deal, right? Imagine watching your favourite movie 100 times in 8 months. Sure, the first few times you find out different things that you didn't notice before. But after about 25 watchings, you just don't wanna do it anymore - and you're only 1/4th of the way through. Now take those 75 other viewings and start analyizing EVERYTHING about your favourite movie - ranging from who the director is, to the political ideology, to gay undertones, to reinforcing traditional values, to the evil of the corporation funding it, to the actor/actress inside it, to the shot style, to the colour choices, to the meaning created by shots, and pretty much absolutely everything you can think of. The short: Your brian dies and you stop caring or liking your favourite movie. . . because school has destroyed your movie-watching soul. Now do it for FOUR years and 40 thousand dollars! AND EVEN THAT DOESN'T GUARANTEE YOU A JOB OR THAT YOU'LL EVEN PASS!.. cause after destroying your favourite movie, you have to write a 15 page essay about it - and you have to "research" your topic, because you're far too stupid to form opinions without some quoting some educated hack 800 times. . . and what makes his opinion more valued than yours? Well... he's done what you have, except he decided to do it for his entire live. Hell, YOU got off easy.
By no means am I saying my major is difficult - I don't have to do much of anything, and there are some good movies in the mix - and hell, some of the readings aren't soul-crushingly boring (although 90% are). And on occassion, an industry dude, filled with years of cynicism and bitterness towards his wasted talents because the studio hacks edited his film comes in and does a talk at the University - in the process shutting down the one prof you couldn't stand. (Yes, that was sweet). I mean, it's not like I have to learn chemistry or something I know absolutely nothing about. At least in my major, I can fall back on my foolproof, never-fail bullshitting.
2: It's not that the professors don't do a lot of work prepping the courses - and fuck, they get underpaid like nobody's business to do it - but having a prof come and teach a course that's opinion-based will ultimately lead to a clash of opinions. What one person's masterpiece is, is another persons sack of shit. You have to be able to look past the verbal shit these profs give, cutting the opinion out from the actual need-to-know/need-to-bullshit-to-pass.
3: Writing. Who the hell writes theories on this shit? And why do I have to know it? I'm well-aware I made a wrong decision to take this degree as opposed to a technical film one, or actually going to film school (which I'll have to do ANYWAY after I graduate), but seriously, some of the things I "learn" are absolutely pointless. In the entertainment industry, to create a film with a personal meaning is impossible unless you've acheived commercial success beforehand. If you build your "truth" films on lies, where you were a hard-luck nobody that overcame the odds to become something (see: 50 Cent's film Get Rich or Die Trying), you're bound to find some kind of success, cult or mass. If you rant about political issues, but make it seem like you're talking about something else (see: Capote, which was actually about gay issues, not the "In Cold Blood" book.. not saying it wasn't a good movie), you're in. Or my favourite - doing a movie you've done already, but nobody saw the first one because you weren't popular then. (see: Brokeback Mountain, which was done by Ang Lee after he became popular from Crouching Tiger, Hidden Dragon, but if you watch his 1993 film The Wedding Banquet it's actually Brokeback's inspiration.. and pretty much the same topic in a different context. It's also better). What it all really comes down to is money, money, money, money, and more money. You could be the most talented person in the world with the most important movie idea ever, but if some douche in a suit thinks they can't make more money off it, you're fucked.) Anyway, these are the things I have to write about - over and over.
It's far easier to just be retarded and not be good enough to go to University. Consider it saving money, not "missing out on an education".
How coincidental this rant comes in the middle of my exams that I haven't studied for (and don't need to, for all the reasons above).
-Mark
(Last song was The Brunettes - Best Friend Envy)
I've come to realize over the last few years of my schooling that I'm not really learning anything - and that I'm a high-70's student (or a B+, for those of you that are in the "No child left behind" program, and are thus illiterate and mathematically retarded). Whenever I need to really know something, I just go back to one class in highschool - Grade 12 Communications. I've apparently learned an entire University degree when I was 18, because apart from reading idiotic essays from illectuals that are in more poverty than I am, most of the "information" I've learned in my degree is essentially just extensions on things I already knew.
Of course, given my degree, lots of the content I learn is opinion-based via the prof. (Think National Cinemas). I've had to endure 4 months and about 500 bucks out of my pocket on courses I absolutely don't give a shit about (like Soviet and Polish cinema), which although some have fading moments of interest, it's mostly harping the same shit for the entire course. There's a few problems here;
1: There isn't enough content to justify a 13-week (or god forbid, a 25 week) course that'll eventually lead to my degree/40,000 dollar debt. I'd take another course not in my major, but fuck, half these courses are required for me to graduate. I don't give a shit about Eisenstein's theory of montage (if you know the definition of "montage", you've just equalled Soviet filmmaker Sergei Eisenstein's life work), and knowing it doesn't justify making me sit through Battleship Potemkin, Strike, or anything else he's done. And for fucks sake, his essay in the book I was forced to pay 100 bucks for had DRAWINGS all over it. DONE BY THE BASTARD HIMSELF!. Anyway, it doesn't end here. I've already told people in my faculity (and they agree) that I'm basically writing the same essay over and over using different movies. I have my strengths when it comes to analytical essays (which, by the way, is all I'm ever required to write), and it's always Film Aesthetics, and bullshit (not in that order). I've sat through.. hmm.. lemme see here... about 150 movies in the last 8 months, and I've totalled 606 hours of class. . . . 324 of which was watching movies (approximately). So yeah, I'm sitting in a dark room for over half my year watching movies - sounds like a sweet deal, right? Imagine watching your favourite movie 100 times in 8 months. Sure, the first few times you find out different things that you didn't notice before. But after about 25 watchings, you just don't wanna do it anymore - and you're only 1/4th of the way through. Now take those 75 other viewings and start analyizing EVERYTHING about your favourite movie - ranging from who the director is, to the political ideology, to gay undertones, to reinforcing traditional values, to the evil of the corporation funding it, to the actor/actress inside it, to the shot style, to the colour choices, to the meaning created by shots, and pretty much absolutely everything you can think of. The short: Your brian dies and you stop caring or liking your favourite movie. . . because school has destroyed your movie-watching soul. Now do it for FOUR years and 40 thousand dollars! AND EVEN THAT DOESN'T GUARANTEE YOU A JOB OR THAT YOU'LL EVEN PASS!.. cause after destroying your favourite movie, you have to write a 15 page essay about it - and you have to "research" your topic, because you're far too stupid to form opinions without some quoting some educated hack 800 times. . . and what makes his opinion more valued than yours? Well... he's done what you have, except he decided to do it for his entire live. Hell, YOU got off easy.
By no means am I saying my major is difficult - I don't have to do much of anything, and there are some good movies in the mix - and hell, some of the readings aren't soul-crushingly boring (although 90% are). And on occassion, an industry dude, filled with years of cynicism and bitterness towards his wasted talents because the studio hacks edited his film comes in and does a talk at the University - in the process shutting down the one prof you couldn't stand. (Yes, that was sweet). I mean, it's not like I have to learn chemistry or something I know absolutely nothing about. At least in my major, I can fall back on my foolproof, never-fail bullshitting.
2: It's not that the professors don't do a lot of work prepping the courses - and fuck, they get underpaid like nobody's business to do it - but having a prof come and teach a course that's opinion-based will ultimately lead to a clash of opinions. What one person's masterpiece is, is another persons sack of shit. You have to be able to look past the verbal shit these profs give, cutting the opinion out from the actual need-to-know/need-to-bullshit-to-pass.
3: Writing. Who the hell writes theories on this shit? And why do I have to know it? I'm well-aware I made a wrong decision to take this degree as opposed to a technical film one, or actually going to film school (which I'll have to do ANYWAY after I graduate), but seriously, some of the things I "learn" are absolutely pointless. In the entertainment industry, to create a film with a personal meaning is impossible unless you've acheived commercial success beforehand. If you build your "truth" films on lies, where you were a hard-luck nobody that overcame the odds to become something (see: 50 Cent's film Get Rich or Die Trying), you're bound to find some kind of success, cult or mass. If you rant about political issues, but make it seem like you're talking about something else (see: Capote, which was actually about gay issues, not the "In Cold Blood" book.. not saying it wasn't a good movie), you're in. Or my favourite - doing a movie you've done already, but nobody saw the first one because you weren't popular then. (see: Brokeback Mountain, which was done by Ang Lee after he became popular from Crouching Tiger, Hidden Dragon, but if you watch his 1993 film The Wedding Banquet it's actually Brokeback's inspiration.. and pretty much the same topic in a different context. It's also better). What it all really comes down to is money, money, money, money, and more money. You could be the most talented person in the world with the most important movie idea ever, but if some douche in a suit thinks they can't make more money off it, you're fucked.) Anyway, these are the things I have to write about - over and over.
It's far easier to just be retarded and not be good enough to go to University. Consider it saving money, not "missing out on an education".
How coincidental this rant comes in the middle of my exams that I haven't studied for (and don't need to, for all the reasons above).
-Mark
(Last song was The Brunettes - Best Friend Envy)
Tuesday, April 18, 2006
She gets her art from all the boys in town
Linkslutting myself, because I can.
Clicky clicky
One more time, do it for Jesus
I took these.
-Mark (is clearly not studying for exams)
(Last song was Eels - Old Shit/New Shit)
Clicky clicky
One more time, do it for Jesus
I took these.
-Mark (is clearly not studying for exams)
(Last song was Eels - Old Shit/New Shit)
Monday, April 17, 2006
Everyone loves you, nobody cares
Exam period. More to come.
-Mark (hates school)
(Last song was Bloc Party - All The Marshalls are Dead)
-Mark (hates school)
(Last song was Bloc Party - All The Marshalls are Dead)
Sunday, April 09, 2006
Attention: Unbelievers. Fashion Victims. Opportunists
After the greatest concert EVER... I tore some ligaments in my foot. Or muscles, or whatever. WHAT A FUN NIGHT!
-Mark can't walk
(Last song: We Are Scientists - Worth the Wait)
-Mark can't walk
(Last song: We Are Scientists - Worth the Wait)
Thursday, April 06, 2006
If I had one drop of common sense, I'd have already left
Happy 100th blogging, me. I swear to Jebus or whatever, I'm ready to snap... so this will be another one of my rants that make no sense.
My work fucked up the schedule again, so I worked a double shift (remember the last time I did that? Yeah, I crashed my Jeep.). I finally bitched enough so they fixed it, and I got back at them by stealing about four dinners worth of food. Fuck you guys, I'm taking everything I can get away with.. hell, the security guard even taped the damn plates together so the food wouldn't fall out! HA! Fuck you work. You pay me 10 bucks an hour and I stole about 100 bucks of food.
Seriously, have crack-addicts just given up on trying to be inconspicuous? When I got off the bus today there's just some guy in the corner of the bus stop snorting some coke off a five dollar bill. I mean I've seen a lot downtown, like the gay stakeboarders today (NO male skateboarder wears a girl's toque and looks like he's about to make out with his buddy on the bus.. I thought I was wrong but after some very awkward staring at him... do you stare 6 inches from your friend's face at his lips?) Oh yeah, and he was wearing tight bell bottom pants. That was just weird. MOVING ON!
I've seen a shit-ton of gay people around that stop, it's pretty normal now.. I've also seen some gender-inspecific people, and the classic homeless wanderers that I'm waiting for one of them to try and mug me.
A few days ago I saw a different drug deal go down.. actually I walked past it. There's something about this neighbourhood, potheads, and fences. It's not like they're hiding, they're just leaning against a fence in plain view making drug deals at 3PM by an elementary school. Classy gents. Too bad the 15 year old was dealing to a 35 year old. That was also weird.
AND SCHOOL.. I'm STILL not learning anything, just getting more pissed off. I'm about three days from snapping and I've got four to go. And a RESEARCH essay to finish off the term? WTF, I don't want to actually try anymore.. That's just cruel.
And no summer job, not that I'm looking very hard. Someone give me a third job! I knew I just should have ran off to BC this summer with no intention of ever returning...
Oh.. and I'm bored with everything. If only I wasn't so lazy.
-Mark
(Last song was The Dresden Dolls - Dirty Business)
My work fucked up the schedule again, so I worked a double shift (remember the last time I did that? Yeah, I crashed my Jeep.). I finally bitched enough so they fixed it, and I got back at them by stealing about four dinners worth of food. Fuck you guys, I'm taking everything I can get away with.. hell, the security guard even taped the damn plates together so the food wouldn't fall out! HA! Fuck you work. You pay me 10 bucks an hour and I stole about 100 bucks of food.
Seriously, have crack-addicts just given up on trying to be inconspicuous? When I got off the bus today there's just some guy in the corner of the bus stop snorting some coke off a five dollar bill. I mean I've seen a lot downtown, like the gay stakeboarders today (NO male skateboarder wears a girl's toque and looks like he's about to make out with his buddy on the bus.. I thought I was wrong but after some very awkward staring at him... do you stare 6 inches from your friend's face at his lips?) Oh yeah, and he was wearing tight bell bottom pants. That was just weird. MOVING ON!
I've seen a shit-ton of gay people around that stop, it's pretty normal now.. I've also seen some gender-inspecific people, and the classic homeless wanderers that I'm waiting for one of them to try and mug me.
A few days ago I saw a different drug deal go down.. actually I walked past it. There's something about this neighbourhood, potheads, and fences. It's not like they're hiding, they're just leaning against a fence in plain view making drug deals at 3PM by an elementary school. Classy gents. Too bad the 15 year old was dealing to a 35 year old. That was also weird.
AND SCHOOL.. I'm STILL not learning anything, just getting more pissed off. I'm about three days from snapping and I've got four to go. And a RESEARCH essay to finish off the term? WTF, I don't want to actually try anymore.. That's just cruel.
And no summer job, not that I'm looking very hard. Someone give me a third job! I knew I just should have ran off to BC this summer with no intention of ever returning...
Oh.. and I'm bored with everything. If only I wasn't so lazy.
-Mark
(Last song was The Dresden Dolls - Dirty Business)
Saturday, April 01, 2006
She leaves condoms out on the dresser just to make you jealous of the men she fucked before you met her
This is another one of my booze-enduced incoherent rambles...
Seriously, I'm fucking tired of school. It's probably got a lot to do with the fact I'm not even LEARNING anything anymore, and I'm basically showing up because I paid money (in the future) for this bullshit, so I'm saving face to myself, but seriously, every essay I'm writing is just me repeating the same shit over and over with a different movie.
I don't do my readings. I used to kid myself and buy the books so I at least felt like if I needed to do the readings or I had some kind of inspiration, I'd do them, but now I don't even bother. I don't buy books cause fuck, I learned it all in first year and then in the first semester binge-whoring classes. SERIOUSLY WHAT THE FUCK I PAID 35000 GRAND TO LEARN THE SAME SHIT OVER AND OVER.
Well jeebus University, how about teaching me some tangible skills for once? (My "c" button is fucking up now.. glory road!) I'm not in University to learn how to become a professor and teach the same mindless shits as myself for the rest of my life (although it'd be a conveinent in-person outlet for my rage) wow my typing while boozed is pretty decent. Anyway where was I? oh yeah, FUCK University.
Seriously, I should have gone to college but even that would just belittle me. After all I'm great so fuck college, it's not even an option. I just applied to make my mom happy but there was no fuckin' way I was going. I figured that I needed a real edumacation, so University was it.. then my parents seperated and I lost all my funding (thanks!) and now I'm stuck in a shithole where I'm learning dick all.
And I'll end up going to college ANYWAY when I'm done
Fuck why don't I just drop out right now and go, cause it's goddamn waste of my time to be here.Okay it's not like my degree isn't bullshit and that I didn't know that going in, but seriously, I'm not doing shit with my life except meeting people. And wowee, that's fun but I need more people to drink with dammit so I can forget about how depressing going to University here is.
EWHAT>THE>FUCK.
-Mark I think
(Last song was Youth Group - Rosie and The Sea.)
It's an awesome song, this one up for the title of this rant, too. YOU AIN'T THE Po_lICE!
Seriously, I'm fucking tired of school. It's probably got a lot to do with the fact I'm not even LEARNING anything anymore, and I'm basically showing up because I paid money (in the future) for this bullshit, so I'm saving face to myself, but seriously, every essay I'm writing is just me repeating the same shit over and over with a different movie.
I don't do my readings. I used to kid myself and buy the books so I at least felt like if I needed to do the readings or I had some kind of inspiration, I'd do them, but now I don't even bother. I don't buy books cause fuck, I learned it all in first year and then in the first semester binge-whoring classes. SERIOUSLY WHAT THE FUCK I PAID 35000 GRAND TO LEARN THE SAME SHIT OVER AND OVER.
Well jeebus University, how about teaching me some tangible skills for once? (My "c" button is fucking up now.. glory road!) I'm not in University to learn how to become a professor and teach the same mindless shits as myself for the rest of my life (although it'd be a conveinent in-person outlet for my rage) wow my typing while boozed is pretty decent. Anyway where was I? oh yeah, FUCK University.
Seriously, I should have gone to college but even that would just belittle me. After all I'm great so fuck college, it's not even an option. I just applied to make my mom happy but there was no fuckin' way I was going. I figured that I needed a real edumacation, so University was it.. then my parents seperated and I lost all my funding (thanks!) and now I'm stuck in a shithole where I'm learning dick all.
And I'll end up going to college ANYWAY when I'm done
Fuck why don't I just drop out right now and go, cause it's goddamn waste of my time to be here.Okay it's not like my degree isn't bullshit and that I didn't know that going in, but seriously, I'm not doing shit with my life except meeting people. And wowee, that's fun but I need more people to drink with dammit so I can forget about how depressing going to University here is.
EWHAT>THE>FUCK.
-Mark I think
(Last song was Youth Group - Rosie and The Sea.)
It's an awesome song, this one up for the title of this rant, too. YOU AIN'T THE Po_lICE!
Tuesday, March 28, 2006
I was thrust with glory, and everyone telling me to tell my story
Okay, usually the dome is angry, but today is a time to rejoice, because I just had the BEST.BUSRIDE.EVER.
So I'm on the bus, sitting, and we come close to an intersection stoplight. There's a line of cars, so the bus stops - but opens the door in the left turn lane - some dude in a red Honda is calling him over. He says something about how the bus drove off when his daughter was there (so what?). The bus driver apologizes and tries to explain his thing, and then the guy yells to the driver "You're an asshole!"
Now it gets fun.
They crawl up a bit, and yell some more. The driver shouts something, the car shouts something.. it's loud, and everyone on the bus can hear (I'm trying not to laugh).
The red Honda then CUTS OFF THE BUS to get into the left turn lane, stops in the middle of the intersection (causing the bus to nearly crash into it), then out-crazies everyone by getting out of his car and running to the driver's window. I didn't catch it all, but this is the gist:
Honda: "What's your fucking problem you asshole!"
Bus: "It's not my fault if your daughter doesn't get on the bus!"
Honda: "Why don't we just step outside and settle this, you asshole?" (remember, we're in the middle of the intersection).
Bus: "I'm not getting out of the bus, you moron."
Honda: "We'll I'm not moving my car until you do!"
Bus: "Fuck you, I'm calling the cops!"
Honda: "Go right ahead, I'll be waiting!"
All this over a dumbass chick that doesn't know how to get on a bus... hehe.
So the Honda guy eventually panics, cuts off like 18 other cars trying to avoid getting his plate read (and he failed), and the bus got me to campus on time, and the cops were called. I burst out laughing during the middle of this argument, which was probably awkward, but it was hilarious...
So I dub that the best bus ride I've ever had.
And now you know how fucking crazy the place I live in is. People trying to pick fights over a missed bus ride.
Excuse me a moment...
..
..
..
HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA
-Mark
(Last song: Bloc Party - Helicopter)
So I'm on the bus, sitting, and we come close to an intersection stoplight. There's a line of cars, so the bus stops - but opens the door in the left turn lane - some dude in a red Honda is calling him over. He says something about how the bus drove off when his daughter was there (so what?). The bus driver apologizes and tries to explain his thing, and then the guy yells to the driver "You're an asshole!"
Now it gets fun.
They crawl up a bit, and yell some more. The driver shouts something, the car shouts something.. it's loud, and everyone on the bus can hear (I'm trying not to laugh).
The red Honda then CUTS OFF THE BUS to get into the left turn lane, stops in the middle of the intersection (causing the bus to nearly crash into it), then out-crazies everyone by getting out of his car and running to the driver's window. I didn't catch it all, but this is the gist:
Honda: "What's your fucking problem you asshole!"
Bus: "It's not my fault if your daughter doesn't get on the bus!"
Honda: "Why don't we just step outside and settle this, you asshole?" (remember, we're in the middle of the intersection).
Bus: "I'm not getting out of the bus, you moron."
Honda: "We'll I'm not moving my car until you do!"
Bus: "Fuck you, I'm calling the cops!"
Honda: "Go right ahead, I'll be waiting!"
All this over a dumbass chick that doesn't know how to get on a bus... hehe.
So the Honda guy eventually panics, cuts off like 18 other cars trying to avoid getting his plate read (and he failed), and the bus got me to campus on time, and the cops were called. I burst out laughing during the middle of this argument, which was probably awkward, but it was hilarious...
So I dub that the best bus ride I've ever had.
And now you know how fucking crazy the place I live in is. People trying to pick fights over a missed bus ride.
Excuse me a moment...
..
..
..
HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA
-Mark
(Last song: Bloc Party - Helicopter)
Monday, March 27, 2006
Six out of ten, better luck next time
So I'm still pissed about that crash, cause I'd JUST cleared my last debt (ironically, that day. Fuck off!) Anyway, so I only have to work 10X the hours I have so far to pay off a piece of plastic and a fingerful of paint, but this bring me to my next pile of ranting juice.. and I can't believe I didn't rant about this earlier.
But before I begin, I can say that you people have nothing to worry about - despite the happy-enducing powers of the current girlfriend, the Universe was righted again by the cement pillar that I've already kicked and swore at the day after (which I rode to work on my sister's bike, cause my bike got a flat in the GARAGE over the winter, somehow. So I threw it through the recycling bin, which broke it. Luckily, Duct tape solved that. Let's move on).
INSURANCE! You fuckers!
Okay, I hate hate hate hate insurance. I hate them so much I wouldn't even hate fuck them (if you don't know what hate fuck means, wikipedia it.). But it's so counter-intuitive (car insurance). I mean nobody ever wants to claim because they're afraid their rates will skyrocket (which they would). It's so bad that some people would rather just buy a new car then deal with those fucktards. And because it's illegal to drive without insurance, those fucktards can do whatever they want. I mean I pay 150 a month or whatever to do shit with my car (which is my dads, which is broken). I have to pay for something I can never forsee myself using, because I'd actually rather pay for any damage to any car I own then talk to those douches. Even if I can't afford the car repairs, it's better then paying out the ass in insurance.
Here's an idea for the government to win the next 800 elections: MAKE AUTO INSURANCE NOT MANDATORY - UNLESS YOU GET INTO A MAJOR ACCIDENT. What's a major accident? 10K+ of damage. If you've totalled your crate that much, you should have to pay insurance. But if you've just dinged a few times, fuck off! And speeding affecting your insurance? EVERYONE SPEEDS. EVERYWHERE. ALL THE TIME. If you DON'T other drivers get pissed. Anyway, if you don't need auto insurance, well fuck, insurance companies make actually make it WORTHWHILE to have insurance. Right now they've got you by the balls and there's nothing you can do so why SHOULD they help you unless they don't get 5X the benefit?
See, house insurance isn't mandatory but it makes sense. You don't want your shit to get stolen or anything, so you get it if you have something valuable. IF you drive a wreck, who cares if someone steals it? Oh no, my car that I need to service every week and that has a leaky gastank! I'll have to walk to the end of the street to get it back! Seriously. If you have a nice car, you'll probably insure it to make sure that you're covered. But if you drive a crate, you don't care that much. If anything, you're just happy to not have to deal with that. And since we live in the age of paranoia, it's more than likely you'd actually take better care of it if you could lose it and have no compensation.
Fuck you, insurance.
-Mark
(Last two songs: March 24: Okkervil River - The War Criminal Rises and Speaks)
(March 25: Okkervil River - The Velocity of Saul at the Time of His Conversion)
But before I begin, I can say that you people have nothing to worry about - despite the happy-enducing powers of the current girlfriend, the Universe was righted again by the cement pillar that I've already kicked and swore at the day after (which I rode to work on my sister's bike, cause my bike got a flat in the GARAGE over the winter, somehow. So I threw it through the recycling bin, which broke it. Luckily, Duct tape solved that. Let's move on).
INSURANCE! You fuckers!
Okay, I hate hate hate hate insurance. I hate them so much I wouldn't even hate fuck them (if you don't know what hate fuck means, wikipedia it.). But it's so counter-intuitive (car insurance). I mean nobody ever wants to claim because they're afraid their rates will skyrocket (which they would). It's so bad that some people would rather just buy a new car then deal with those fucktards. And because it's illegal to drive without insurance, those fucktards can do whatever they want. I mean I pay 150 a month or whatever to do shit with my car (which is my dads, which is broken). I have to pay for something I can never forsee myself using, because I'd actually rather pay for any damage to any car I own then talk to those douches. Even if I can't afford the car repairs, it's better then paying out the ass in insurance.
Here's an idea for the government to win the next 800 elections: MAKE AUTO INSURANCE NOT MANDATORY - UNLESS YOU GET INTO A MAJOR ACCIDENT. What's a major accident? 10K+ of damage. If you've totalled your crate that much, you should have to pay insurance. But if you've just dinged a few times, fuck off! And speeding affecting your insurance? EVERYONE SPEEDS. EVERYWHERE. ALL THE TIME. If you DON'T other drivers get pissed. Anyway, if you don't need auto insurance, well fuck, insurance companies make actually make it WORTHWHILE to have insurance. Right now they've got you by the balls and there's nothing you can do so why SHOULD they help you unless they don't get 5X the benefit?
See, house insurance isn't mandatory but it makes sense. You don't want your shit to get stolen or anything, so you get it if you have something valuable. IF you drive a wreck, who cares if someone steals it? Oh no, my car that I need to service every week and that has a leaky gastank! I'll have to walk to the end of the street to get it back! Seriously. If you have a nice car, you'll probably insure it to make sure that you're covered. But if you drive a crate, you don't care that much. If anything, you're just happy to not have to deal with that. And since we live in the age of paranoia, it's more than likely you'd actually take better care of it if you could lose it and have no compensation.
Fuck you, insurance.
-Mark
(Last two songs: March 24: Okkervil River - The War Criminal Rises and Speaks)
(March 25: Okkervil River - The Velocity of Saul at the Time of His Conversion)
Saturday, March 25, 2006
Your time has expired, the only word left is goodbye
&*&*#&*&^*%*&#% 1171 bucks for that fucking piece of plastic? Fuck off!
-Mark
-Mark
Friday, March 24, 2006
Rise up behind your eyes, and take wild control
Glory days ahoy! Now for the most part I'm bitter towards society (no shit, eh?) and all the stupid shit I see happen. But whoa, here I go ranting into the present (or only slight-past) of personal experience! Let me tell you, after the day I had, it took everything in me to not to boil over (and I swear, it almost worked).
I tried, I swear. But Wednesday, March 22nd, was just a nonstop nadslapping. Apart from the usual beaucracy of my second job scheduling me on an unavailable day (for the 5 billionth time, after I've told them fourty times I'm NOT AVAILABLE ON THAT DAY), I ended up getting double shifted at my first job, and then at night, for my second. Whatever, I agreed because I'm broke.
My first job goes relatively smooth - as usual, I don't do much of anything for the four hours I'm here. I go home, to find out there's no sauce for my spaghetti. So I improvised and made spaghetti with medium salsa instead of sauce, which actually turned out to be quite delicious (try it sometime with sliced onions). I head off to work after - I borrow my dad's Jeep since I'll be working into the morning and the buses around here suck. I go to work - there's some massive pile 'o suits convention going on.. something like 1500 people. For the first bit I do nothing, my boss (one of them) steals the three of us 50 dollar dinners and we hide away and eat it. Sounds sweet, right? Yeah, it all goes horrifyingly downhill from there.
I'm asked to stay past my end time. I agree (money purposes, again), which results in me working twice as long as I was supposed to. But.. BUT.. I'm getting ahead of myself.
Around 10PM or so, the dinner is over but we have to wait for the suits to clear out. My other boss tells the three of us to just hang around and wait. So we go to the bar to make sure nobody's stealing booze and to wait for people to leave. We're there for about 15 minutes, tops. Eventually Boss #2 comes over and tells us to help out downstairs with Boss #1 and all the other staff until we're needed back up here.
We go down there, and in the back hallway, Boss #1 finds the three of us. He asks (loudly): "where the hell have you three been?"
Me: "We were up in the ballroom."
Boss #1: "What the hell were you doing there?"
Me: "Waiting for the guests to clear out."
Boss #1: You were gone for 30 fucking minutes!" (wrong assumption #1)
Me: "No we weren't."
Boss #1: "Yes you fucking were!!!"
At this point I just stop trying to tell him that he's wrong cause it's pointless (hooray for being on the bottom rung of a corporation and not having a voice!). I just sucked up all the yelling on behalf of the three of us, and was informed that we'd taken our lunch by doing what we were told by Boss #2.
Apparently. So okay whatever, I just start working (ironically, not even 5 minutes later we were in the ballroom again. Wow.) and get on with life, eventually getting the opportunity to explain to Boss #1 what really happened. That fire was put out, huzzah. I got my lunch back.
But then Boss #1 tells me and another of the workers to vaccuum - course, the previous shit is still in the way but I start vaccuuming.
Enter Boss #3. (Yeah that's right, 3 bosses on one night! woo.) I was on a break, and heading up to the break room. But in the hallway, they have all the uneaten (complete) deserts. I ask Boss #2 if I can grab one, he says that he didn't say yes but yes. I mean, I still don't get the big deal about eating food they're going to THROW OUT, but whatever. I grab a plate, and go towards the elevator. Boss #3 sees me with the plate.
Boss #3: "What are you doing with that?"
Me: "I'm on break."
Boss #3: "You can't take that and eat it!"
Me: "I can't eat food you're going to throw out?"
Boss #3: "No!"
I'll spare the rest of the details, but after a brief argument about why I don't like wasting food and how it's retarded to stop me from eating food that she's just going to THROW IN THE GARBAGE (have I made that point clear?), I get the plate. I go up and eat it (delicious! Free food always tastes better, despite my rising bitterness towards the situation). I go back downstairs and finish vaccuuming, but not before the other staff start setting up shit for the next dinner, convienently stopping me from vaccuuming certain floor.
Enter Boss #3.. again. "You missed a spot."
Me: "Where?"
Boss #3: "You didn't vaccuum here, here, here.."
Me: "They put the tables down before I could vaccuum there."
Boss #3: "Get the small vaccuum and fix your mistake!!!"
Now a table doesn't seem like a big deal, but these things are lined up specifically, and I'd actually get in bigger shit if I moved them. So now I've been yelled at three times, all for things I never did wrong.
I vaccuumed between the tables with the small vaccuum and got that done with.
2 hours passed... and enter Boss #3... one last time. "You missed a spot!"
Me: "Where?"
Boss #3: "In the corner!"
Me: "Okay, the cord doesn't reach that far and the extension cables are being used by other things."
Boss #3: "Don't give me excuses, just go do it!"
Joy. I got told off for not doing something I absolutely COULDN'T do anyway, and despite my explaining I still got yelled at.
So after vaccuuming the friggin football field sized carpet for a third time, my night ends... around 4:30AM.
I head down to the parking garage to my dad's Jeep. I'm pissed enough as it is, but I just think that at least I took home about 120 bucks today between my two jobs.
I get in my Jeep and get ready to reverse out - but another parked van is jutting out too far, so to not hit it, I turn to the left and back up... nicely into a pillar, breaking part of the bumper off, denting the frame over the back tire, and smashing the protective cover over the left taillight.... all in a 5MPH collision.
From money earned, to money in debt. I'm pretty much fuming by now, and luckily nobody else is around for my brigade of swearing that echoes. I clean up the pieces and throw them in the Jeep, test to see if the blinkers still work... which they don't. But the alignment is fine, so it's still driveable assuming I can get home without a cop seeing it and ticketing me. Oh, and did I mention that I had a class at 8:30 AM? Moving on..
I get back in the Jeep, and just flipped out, in a fury that only comes upon my life once every few years (mostly I just let it roll off my back, but come ON.. would you keep it together after all that?), punching the shit out of everything I could and swearing my face off.
Eventually I calm down (with help of some Bloc Party tunes, which pretty much kept me from driving myself into a ravine.
What a perfect end to a perfect day. I got home (after getting lucky with a cop.. he DEFINITELY saw me AND the broken taillight, but decided that it wasn't worth destroying whatever sanity was left in me - thank you, anonymous officer of the law) around 5AM, and went to bed, giving the world a gigantic fuck you. Oh, and I missed class after all that (like it matters).
So my dad's ready to murder me when he gets home and sees the damage (which he knows about, since I called him), so if this is my last post, at least know I died doing what I love best - getting murdered over an-under-10MPH-collison-with-an-immobile-object.
-Mark
(Last song was The Futureheads - Man Ray)
I tried, I swear. But Wednesday, March 22nd, was just a nonstop nadslapping. Apart from the usual beaucracy of my second job scheduling me on an unavailable day (for the 5 billionth time, after I've told them fourty times I'm NOT AVAILABLE ON THAT DAY), I ended up getting double shifted at my first job, and then at night, for my second. Whatever, I agreed because I'm broke.
My first job goes relatively smooth - as usual, I don't do much of anything for the four hours I'm here. I go home, to find out there's no sauce for my spaghetti. So I improvised and made spaghetti with medium salsa instead of sauce, which actually turned out to be quite delicious (try it sometime with sliced onions). I head off to work after - I borrow my dad's Jeep since I'll be working into the morning and the buses around here suck. I go to work - there's some massive pile 'o suits convention going on.. something like 1500 people. For the first bit I do nothing, my boss (one of them) steals the three of us 50 dollar dinners and we hide away and eat it. Sounds sweet, right? Yeah, it all goes horrifyingly downhill from there.
I'm asked to stay past my end time. I agree (money purposes, again), which results in me working twice as long as I was supposed to. But.. BUT.. I'm getting ahead of myself.
Around 10PM or so, the dinner is over but we have to wait for the suits to clear out. My other boss tells the three of us to just hang around and wait. So we go to the bar to make sure nobody's stealing booze and to wait for people to leave. We're there for about 15 minutes, tops. Eventually Boss #2 comes over and tells us to help out downstairs with Boss #1 and all the other staff until we're needed back up here.
We go down there, and in the back hallway, Boss #1 finds the three of us. He asks (loudly): "where the hell have you three been?"
Me: "We were up in the ballroom."
Boss #1: "What the hell were you doing there?"
Me: "Waiting for the guests to clear out."
Boss #1: You were gone for 30 fucking minutes!" (wrong assumption #1)
Me: "No we weren't."
Boss #1: "Yes you fucking were!!!"
At this point I just stop trying to tell him that he's wrong cause it's pointless (hooray for being on the bottom rung of a corporation and not having a voice!). I just sucked up all the yelling on behalf of the three of us, and was informed that we'd taken our lunch by doing what we were told by Boss #2.
Apparently. So okay whatever, I just start working (ironically, not even 5 minutes later we were in the ballroom again. Wow.) and get on with life, eventually getting the opportunity to explain to Boss #1 what really happened. That fire was put out, huzzah. I got my lunch back.
But then Boss #1 tells me and another of the workers to vaccuum - course, the previous shit is still in the way but I start vaccuuming.
Enter Boss #3. (Yeah that's right, 3 bosses on one night! woo.) I was on a break, and heading up to the break room. But in the hallway, they have all the uneaten (complete) deserts. I ask Boss #2 if I can grab one, he says that he didn't say yes but yes. I mean, I still don't get the big deal about eating food they're going to THROW OUT, but whatever. I grab a plate, and go towards the elevator. Boss #3 sees me with the plate.
Boss #3: "What are you doing with that?"
Me: "I'm on break."
Boss #3: "You can't take that and eat it!"
Me: "I can't eat food you're going to throw out?"
Boss #3: "No!"
I'll spare the rest of the details, but after a brief argument about why I don't like wasting food and how it's retarded to stop me from eating food that she's just going to THROW IN THE GARBAGE (have I made that point clear?), I get the plate. I go up and eat it (delicious! Free food always tastes better, despite my rising bitterness towards the situation). I go back downstairs and finish vaccuuming, but not before the other staff start setting up shit for the next dinner, convienently stopping me from vaccuuming certain floor.
Enter Boss #3.. again. "You missed a spot."
Me: "Where?"
Boss #3: "You didn't vaccuum here, here, here.."
Me: "They put the tables down before I could vaccuum there."
Boss #3: "Get the small vaccuum and fix your mistake!!!"
Now a table doesn't seem like a big deal, but these things are lined up specifically, and I'd actually get in bigger shit if I moved them. So now I've been yelled at three times, all for things I never did wrong.
I vaccuumed between the tables with the small vaccuum and got that done with.
2 hours passed... and enter Boss #3... one last time. "You missed a spot!"
Me: "Where?"
Boss #3: "In the corner!"
Me: "Okay, the cord doesn't reach that far and the extension cables are being used by other things."
Boss #3: "Don't give me excuses, just go do it!"
Joy. I got told off for not doing something I absolutely COULDN'T do anyway, and despite my explaining I still got yelled at.
So after vaccuuming the friggin football field sized carpet for a third time, my night ends... around 4:30AM.
I head down to the parking garage to my dad's Jeep. I'm pissed enough as it is, but I just think that at least I took home about 120 bucks today between my two jobs.
I get in my Jeep and get ready to reverse out - but another parked van is jutting out too far, so to not hit it, I turn to the left and back up... nicely into a pillar, breaking part of the bumper off, denting the frame over the back tire, and smashing the protective cover over the left taillight.... all in a 5MPH collision.
From money earned, to money in debt. I'm pretty much fuming by now, and luckily nobody else is around for my brigade of swearing that echoes. I clean up the pieces and throw them in the Jeep, test to see if the blinkers still work... which they don't. But the alignment is fine, so it's still driveable assuming I can get home without a cop seeing it and ticketing me. Oh, and did I mention that I had a class at 8:30 AM? Moving on..
I get back in the Jeep, and just flipped out, in a fury that only comes upon my life once every few years (mostly I just let it roll off my back, but come ON.. would you keep it together after all that?), punching the shit out of everything I could and swearing my face off.
Eventually I calm down (with help of some Bloc Party tunes, which pretty much kept me from driving myself into a ravine.
What a perfect end to a perfect day. I got home (after getting lucky with a cop.. he DEFINITELY saw me AND the broken taillight, but decided that it wasn't worth destroying whatever sanity was left in me - thank you, anonymous officer of the law) around 5AM, and went to bed, giving the world a gigantic fuck you. Oh, and I missed class after all that (like it matters).
So my dad's ready to murder me when he gets home and sees the damage (which he knows about, since I called him), so if this is my last post, at least know I died doing what I love best - getting murdered over an-under-10MPH-collison-with-an-immobile-object.
-Mark
(Last song was The Futureheads - Man Ray)
Wednesday, March 22, 2006
Where did your hands go, when you thought I was your life
One thing that really bothers me is people that label their style as "unique" when it's really just the same as anyone elses. For example, dressing like a hipster isn't unique - that's a style. Just because your clothes are identical to the magazine cutout of what that style is DOES NOT mean you are unique. You're just the same as every other jerk that wears that shit. I can't stand having to listen to people ramble about how they choose their clothes to look different, and then fall back on some idiotic style that has been done thousands of times by other people that thought they were unique.
I really don't care how you dress. Just be honest about it. You're not a unique, beautiful flower. You're the same decaying matter as the rest of us.
-Mark
(Last song was Clap Your Hands Say Yeah - Upon This Tidal Wave of Young Blood)
I really don't care how you dress. Just be honest about it. You're not a unique, beautiful flower. You're the same decaying matter as the rest of us.
-Mark
(Last song was Clap Your Hands Say Yeah - Upon This Tidal Wave of Young Blood)
Monday, March 20, 2006
They are going out to bars and they are getting into cars
I've been brewing this baby up for awhile now.
One thing (amoung many) that really gets to me is when your parents or authority figure in your life (whomever it may be) continually calls you by some retarded pet name they gave you when you were young.
For example: When I was a wee lad, I used to get all excited about pumping gas for some reason (probably because I liked the smell of the fumes), which my mom donned the name of "Mr. Gas Boy." Okay yeah, that was fine to call me - when I was 12. I'm 21 now, it's time to stop that crap.
Seriously, the only people that can give you some ridiculous pet name is a significant other. Friends; no. Family; no. Random authority figures; no. It just pisses me off when the older generation does it because it's like they're trying to capture the "youth" lingo. And growing up in the 90s, trust me, that lingo is just as bullshit as all the other decade's lingo. But one thing 90% of these people don't get is that calling people by stupid pet names based on their childhood excitement or something they said frequently doesn't make them cool - it's just really annoying and it makes them look like they're out of touch.
What they don't realize, especially those trying to recapture their youth, is that by acting my generation's age (and let's face it: my generation was raised on internet porn and high school drama shows like "Dawson's Creek".. oi) they don't look cool or trendy or "in touch". They simply CAN NOT become their kids' ages again - it looks really awkward, and let's face it, our generation doesn't idolize you. We tolerate you when you're around, and then make fun of you when you're gone because you look like someone trying to recapture your youth.
I'm not saying you should just age and feel your excitement for life slip away (or whatever). Go and have fun, but don't try and look like you're 20 again. You're going to base your ideal look on what you looked like in the 70/80's, and then attempt some bastardized version of our slut-gangsta or indy rock, or (god forbid) emo. You can't pull it off. The most casual you can look is jeans.
And for the love of god, don't hang around young people that don't give a shit about their futures. You've had a future, you know there's stupid shit young people are going to do that you won't because you'll think of the consequences mentally, physically, or emotionally (unless you're stupid). Our generation still has that future ahead of us - so we don't care if we fuck it up now. It's not like we're going to enjoy it. And in 20 years, hopefully we won't go your route.
-Mark
(Last song was Panic! At the Disco - Nails for Breakfast, Tacks for Snacks)
One thing (amoung many) that really gets to me is when your parents or authority figure in your life (whomever it may be) continually calls you by some retarded pet name they gave you when you were young.
For example: When I was a wee lad, I used to get all excited about pumping gas for some reason (probably because I liked the smell of the fumes), which my mom donned the name of "Mr. Gas Boy." Okay yeah, that was fine to call me - when I was 12. I'm 21 now, it's time to stop that crap.
Seriously, the only people that can give you some ridiculous pet name is a significant other. Friends; no. Family; no. Random authority figures; no. It just pisses me off when the older generation does it because it's like they're trying to capture the "youth" lingo. And growing up in the 90s, trust me, that lingo is just as bullshit as all the other decade's lingo. But one thing 90% of these people don't get is that calling people by stupid pet names based on their childhood excitement or something they said frequently doesn't make them cool - it's just really annoying and it makes them look like they're out of touch.
What they don't realize, especially those trying to recapture their youth, is that by acting my generation's age (and let's face it: my generation was raised on internet porn and high school drama shows like "Dawson's Creek".. oi) they don't look cool or trendy or "in touch". They simply CAN NOT become their kids' ages again - it looks really awkward, and let's face it, our generation doesn't idolize you. We tolerate you when you're around, and then make fun of you when you're gone because you look like someone trying to recapture your youth.
I'm not saying you should just age and feel your excitement for life slip away (or whatever). Go and have fun, but don't try and look like you're 20 again. You're going to base your ideal look on what you looked like in the 70/80's, and then attempt some bastardized version of our slut-gangsta or indy rock, or (god forbid) emo. You can't pull it off. The most casual you can look is jeans.
And for the love of god, don't hang around young people that don't give a shit about their futures. You've had a future, you know there's stupid shit young people are going to do that you won't because you'll think of the consequences mentally, physically, or emotionally (unless you're stupid). Our generation still has that future ahead of us - so we don't care if we fuck it up now. It's not like we're going to enjoy it. And in 20 years, hopefully we won't go your route.
-Mark
(Last song was Panic! At the Disco - Nails for Breakfast, Tacks for Snacks)
Thursday, March 16, 2006
Your speech is slurred and I bet you might just swallow your tongue
So I downloaded the movie "Ultraviolet." I haven't watched it yet, but I heard it sucked. (And by downloaded, I mean, legally obtained a copy for awards purposes). However, it's done by the same director that made possibly the greatest movie ever, Equilibrium. Of course, the director of that masterpiece was Kurt Wimmer. He's made some pretty decent movies in the past, like The Wolves and The Thomas Crown Affair. I'm sure a few people have seen those. They're not instantly memorable - but nobody forgets Equilibrium after seeing it.
I mean, you could accidentally click this button and accidentally get the movie and watch it yourself. Honestly, given how awesome Equilbrium was, it's worth watching.
I'm sure this'll all bite me in the ass after I watch it. But every know and then, we need to turn our brains off and watch something mindless and fun, right? And being a university student, I get the priveledge of ALWAYS being able to turn my brain off.
-Mark, telling you to watch Equilibrium, and warning you about Ultraviolet.
(Last song was Editors - Bullets)
I mean, you could accidentally click this button and accidentally get the movie and watch it yourself. Honestly, given how awesome Equilbrium was, it's worth watching.
I'm sure this'll all bite me in the ass after I watch it. But every know and then, we need to turn our brains off and watch something mindless and fun, right? And being a university student, I get the priveledge of ALWAYS being able to turn my brain off.
-Mark, telling you to watch Equilibrium, and warning you about Ultraviolet.
(Last song was Editors - Bullets)
Tuesday, March 14, 2006
If something has to give, then it always will
Seriously, where are the recent films? It's a quarter into 2006 and NO new films have been interesting whatsoever so far. And Hollywood wonders why it's dwindling audiences continue? Because your films suck. Seriously. 75 days before getting a decent film out?
Although V for Vendetta could spark the riot. And when the hell is A Scanner Darkly coming out??
-Mark
(Last song: The New Pornographers - Streets of Fire)
Although V for Vendetta could spark the riot. And when the hell is A Scanner Darkly coming out??
-Mark
(Last song: The New Pornographers - Streets of Fire)
Sunday, March 12, 2006
This whiskey priest, he burned his church to keep his girls alive
SPOILERS AHOY!
So I watched Brokeback Mountain yesterday. I'd been wanting to see it for a little, just because nobody would shut up about it.
But then I realized something. I'd been duped. The only reason this film is so acclaimed is because it's an overtly homosexual film. So what? I remember my friend telling me the only reason that everyone is praising it is because they don't want to say it's bad for fear of being labelled as a homophobe.
Well here goes: It wasn't that good. In fact, if it wasn't a gay film, I probably wouldn't remember it. For such an important film, it just lacked so many things that would have made it so much more powerful.
First of all, I couldn't understand a damn word Heath Ledger said. I understand he's supposed to be a roughneck deadbeat, but jebus, not understanding half the dialogue really killed the drama. And because I could barely understand a word he said, I really didn't care that much about his fate. Yeah, okay, he's a deadbeat, he's got nothing, and he's doing nothing to better his life. I get it, but I don't care. What are his motivations? He loves Jack, I get it. He's in denial about his sexuality, I get it. So what?
A lot of the drama seemed forced, and as a result, I found myself laughing at a lot of the scenes instead of getting drawn into the movie. The entire premise was ridiculous - so these two guys that aren't sure about their sexuality fall in love, and then for the next 20 years, can't get over each other. 20 years is a long fucking time, man. And considering that they only spent a few months making hot man-love to each other, it just doesn't seem feasable that they wouldn't get over themselves. If Ennis was so conflicted about his man-loving-fetish that Jack gave him, why would he continue to do that? Ang Lee simply didn't do enough to convince me that they were truly incapable of moving on.
The editing also left a lot to be desired. The film seemed to skip over years, but more importantly, there was a cutting of scenes between Jake Gyllenhaal and Anne Hathaway that really just didn't make sense. He just met her and is plowing her in his truck, and then the next cut is of her having a baby. Apparently they're married, or maybe she just got knocked up? Explain the 9 months, explain how their relationship survived.. not just "hey, he banged some rodeo girl and now they're married." Say what?
And finally, what really took me out of the film was the whole awkwardness between Ledger and Gyllenhaal. During the first scene where they eventually get down to the Quest for the Cornhole, the kisses between them seem so forced and unrealistic, because it's so very obvious they're both heterosexual males - and suddenly, the scene isn't Ennis and Jack tongue loving, it's 'hey, Heath Ledger and Jake Gyllenhaal are sharing a kiss just as awkward as the one in American Pie 2 between Stiffler and Jim!'
All in all, there was some good parts, like the cinematography was really well done, but there was just too many offs about the film that I found, and in the end it just didn't give me enough of believeable drama to make it worth all the praise it got. So I tend to agree that everyone talks it up because it's a gay movie, but it's not like it's the first.
I mean, for the love of jebus, people said The Silence of the Lambs was a gay movie. If you want something to talk about, talk about that. Cause all those activists were wrong.
-Mark
(Note: I'm not squeamish about saying anal sex, I just find it more amusing personally to make up things.)
(The last song was The Decemberists - On The Bus Mall)
So I watched Brokeback Mountain yesterday. I'd been wanting to see it for a little, just because nobody would shut up about it.
But then I realized something. I'd been duped. The only reason this film is so acclaimed is because it's an overtly homosexual film. So what? I remember my friend telling me the only reason that everyone is praising it is because they don't want to say it's bad for fear of being labelled as a homophobe.
Well here goes: It wasn't that good. In fact, if it wasn't a gay film, I probably wouldn't remember it. For such an important film, it just lacked so many things that would have made it so much more powerful.
First of all, I couldn't understand a damn word Heath Ledger said. I understand he's supposed to be a roughneck deadbeat, but jebus, not understanding half the dialogue really killed the drama. And because I could barely understand a word he said, I really didn't care that much about his fate. Yeah, okay, he's a deadbeat, he's got nothing, and he's doing nothing to better his life. I get it, but I don't care. What are his motivations? He loves Jack, I get it. He's in denial about his sexuality, I get it. So what?
A lot of the drama seemed forced, and as a result, I found myself laughing at a lot of the scenes instead of getting drawn into the movie. The entire premise was ridiculous - so these two guys that aren't sure about their sexuality fall in love, and then for the next 20 years, can't get over each other. 20 years is a long fucking time, man. And considering that they only spent a few months making hot man-love to each other, it just doesn't seem feasable that they wouldn't get over themselves. If Ennis was so conflicted about his man-loving-fetish that Jack gave him, why would he continue to do that? Ang Lee simply didn't do enough to convince me that they were truly incapable of moving on.
The editing also left a lot to be desired. The film seemed to skip over years, but more importantly, there was a cutting of scenes between Jake Gyllenhaal and Anne Hathaway that really just didn't make sense. He just met her and is plowing her in his truck, and then the next cut is of her having a baby. Apparently they're married, or maybe she just got knocked up? Explain the 9 months, explain how their relationship survived.. not just "hey, he banged some rodeo girl and now they're married." Say what?
And finally, what really took me out of the film was the whole awkwardness between Ledger and Gyllenhaal. During the first scene where they eventually get down to the Quest for the Cornhole, the kisses between them seem so forced and unrealistic, because it's so very obvious they're both heterosexual males - and suddenly, the scene isn't Ennis and Jack tongue loving, it's 'hey, Heath Ledger and Jake Gyllenhaal are sharing a kiss just as awkward as the one in American Pie 2 between Stiffler and Jim!'
All in all, there was some good parts, like the cinematography was really well done, but there was just too many offs about the film that I found, and in the end it just didn't give me enough of believeable drama to make it worth all the praise it got. So I tend to agree that everyone talks it up because it's a gay movie, but it's not like it's the first.
I mean, for the love of jebus, people said The Silence of the Lambs was a gay movie. If you want something to talk about, talk about that. Cause all those activists were wrong.
-Mark
(Note: I'm not squeamish about saying anal sex, I just find it more amusing personally to make up things.)
(The last song was The Decemberists - On The Bus Mall)
Thursday, March 09, 2006
We reigned at the pool hall with one iron cue ball
I'm obviously a movie enthusiast, what with the film major and all, and the future film career (hopefully; probably not.). And for the most part, I'll sit my ass down and watch almost ANY movie made, regardless of genre or how shitty people say it is. Unless, it's a musical. I can't stand those.
But even then, I'm tempted to see Rent.
Anyway, my point here is this. What I don't understand is the well established actors that, as they get older, start whoring comedies. To me, that means that an actor is dwindling in popularity, or skill. Let's face it, I'm not talking about actors/actresses that have been doing comedies their entire career, I'm talking about those who star in serious dramas or thrillers, etc etc, and then all of the sudden start pumping out comedies, Ie: Robert De Niro.
Look, I know this guy's a good actor - Raging Bull, Goodfellas (well, basically anything that Scorcese and him have done together), he wasn't that bad in The Fan either. There's other movies, of course, but all of the sudden, he's in Meet the Parents, Meet the Fockers (yes, I understand that's a sequel), Analyze This/That, Wag The Dog, etc. And frankly, those movies weren't that good. In fact, a few were downright terrible.
He's not the only one here: Think of Jack Nicholson (As Good As It Gets, Anger Management, About Schmidt, Man Trouble) too. This guy was a stud of the 70's, and The Shining, where he flourished.
But De Niro and Nicholson are on the short list of good actors that have slipped off the radar a bit - and it's happened with comedies. Some of the movies are okay, but I miss these guys in murderous rampages, delightful, biting violence - what they are really good at. I'm all for actors' range but when you're 60, it's not the time to start cutting into comedies. These guys have fallen off the radar, and I blame crappy comedies for it.
Now get back to beating the shit out of incest-lovers (Chinatown), and ruling the shit out of Chicago and Kevin Kostner (The Untouchables).
On the other hand, comedians tend to have an easier transition to dramas. Just look at Robin Williams, although that guy could act in anything. (One Hour Photo (a really underrated indy film), Insomnia, Final Cut)
I dunno what I'm getting at here, but I just miss the days when actors didn't play in total shit movies, playing off their star power.
-Mark
(Last week's song was Man Man - Spider Cider)
But even then, I'm tempted to see Rent.
Anyway, my point here is this. What I don't understand is the well established actors that, as they get older, start whoring comedies. To me, that means that an actor is dwindling in popularity, or skill. Let's face it, I'm not talking about actors/actresses that have been doing comedies their entire career, I'm talking about those who star in serious dramas or thrillers, etc etc, and then all of the sudden start pumping out comedies, Ie: Robert De Niro.
Look, I know this guy's a good actor - Raging Bull, Goodfellas (well, basically anything that Scorcese and him have done together), he wasn't that bad in The Fan either. There's other movies, of course, but all of the sudden, he's in Meet the Parents, Meet the Fockers (yes, I understand that's a sequel), Analyze This/That, Wag The Dog, etc. And frankly, those movies weren't that good. In fact, a few were downright terrible.
He's not the only one here: Think of Jack Nicholson (As Good As It Gets, Anger Management, About Schmidt, Man Trouble) too. This guy was a stud of the 70's, and The Shining, where he flourished.
But De Niro and Nicholson are on the short list of good actors that have slipped off the radar a bit - and it's happened with comedies. Some of the movies are okay, but I miss these guys in murderous rampages, delightful, biting violence - what they are really good at. I'm all for actors' range but when you're 60, it's not the time to start cutting into comedies. These guys have fallen off the radar, and I blame crappy comedies for it.
Now get back to beating the shit out of incest-lovers (Chinatown), and ruling the shit out of Chicago and Kevin Kostner (The Untouchables).
On the other hand, comedians tend to have an easier transition to dramas. Just look at Robin Williams, although that guy could act in anything. (One Hour Photo (a really underrated indy film), Insomnia, Final Cut)
I dunno what I'm getting at here, but I just miss the days when actors didn't play in total shit movies, playing off their star power.
-Mark
(Last week's song was Man Man - Spider Cider)
Monday, March 06, 2006
You should always run with a loaded gun in your mouth
So I've decided to embark on a pointless project because I'm bored. All of the titles until I get bored will be from some song I'm listening to. Anyone that knows the song wins..... nothing. On the next post, I'll post which song it was from. Why? Because it'll seem less oppressive and give me a humanistic flare. Heh.. like I'm human.
Anyway, in my random scrounging recently, I happened upon a pre-internet rant. Apparently before I got the brainwave of blogging my rage, I wrote it down, old-pen style. Like the vikings would have done, had they the tools to do so.
But since this seems appropriate, and my rage is currently on the Oscars and intershnitzel piracy laws, I'll allow those to formulate and give you, my loyal reader, the first in my one-part series: Rage before the internet. Consume!
"What's the deal with the media and crappy commercials? For example, the subway commercial. Why is an entire family scream about one sub that they haven't even paid for yet? It's a 4-person family, so what are they going to do? Share it a eat three inches each? Also, what the deal with this 6-7 carbs crap? I haven't met anyone that goes to subway actively looking to lose weight. The bread alone kills any chance of you losing weight. And don't talk to me about Jared. Obviously he excercised and ate good food anyways. For him to lose over 100 pounds solely eating subway would take well over two years. That's 3 meals a day, 365 times X2. Or, 1035 X 2 = 2070. Each meal is around 10 dollars. . . totalling 20140 dollars on subs alone! Unless he's rich already, in which he wouldn't need to appear in their commercials, then he didn't just eat subway. What a scam."
Oh, how delightfully ignorant of me! Now obviously this is referring to some old-ass commercial subway put out, from I think around December 2004, but if I'm not mistaken, that commercial is gone. So I'm taking credit for that one. Anyway, I gave up on watching TV because commercials pissed me off too much, so I don't know if Jared's still being whored out from subway, but either way, that was REALLY fucking annoying.
This raises a bigger point about commercials, at least, to bring it back to the future. Like I said, I don't watch TV anymore, but jeebus, was it just me, or are commercials responsible for destroying a lot of people's "enjoyment" of wasting their day in front of the TV? I don't need to be bombarded by 8 million propaganda pieces telling me why some paid 'actor' is reading a script about why some household cleaning product rules, in a house that doesn't need cleaning, only caused by messes that children they don't know caused? Are these commercials supposed to make us feel like we want that product, or that everything the TV world makes is better than our crappy belongings? Bitter.
-Mark
Anyway, in my random scrounging recently, I happened upon a pre-internet rant. Apparently before I got the brainwave of blogging my rage, I wrote it down, old-pen style. Like the vikings would have done, had they the tools to do so.
But since this seems appropriate, and my rage is currently on the Oscars and intershnitzel piracy laws, I'll allow those to formulate and give you, my loyal reader, the first in my one-part series: Rage before the internet. Consume!
"What's the deal with the media and crappy commercials? For example, the subway commercial. Why is an entire family scream about one sub that they haven't even paid for yet? It's a 4-person family, so what are they going to do? Share it a eat three inches each? Also, what the deal with this 6-7 carbs crap? I haven't met anyone that goes to subway actively looking to lose weight. The bread alone kills any chance of you losing weight. And don't talk to me about Jared. Obviously he excercised and ate good food anyways. For him to lose over 100 pounds solely eating subway would take well over two years. That's 3 meals a day, 365 times X2. Or, 1035 X 2 = 2070. Each meal is around 10 dollars. . . totalling 20140 dollars on subs alone! Unless he's rich already, in which he wouldn't need to appear in their commercials, then he didn't just eat subway. What a scam."
Oh, how delightfully ignorant of me! Now obviously this is referring to some old-ass commercial subway put out, from I think around December 2004, but if I'm not mistaken, that commercial is gone. So I'm taking credit for that one. Anyway, I gave up on watching TV because commercials pissed me off too much, so I don't know if Jared's still being whored out from subway, but either way, that was REALLY fucking annoying.
This raises a bigger point about commercials, at least, to bring it back to the future. Like I said, I don't watch TV anymore, but jeebus, was it just me, or are commercials responsible for destroying a lot of people's "enjoyment" of wasting their day in front of the TV? I don't need to be bombarded by 8 million propaganda pieces telling me why some paid 'actor' is reading a script about why some household cleaning product rules, in a house that doesn't need cleaning, only caused by messes that children they don't know caused? Are these commercials supposed to make us feel like we want that product, or that everything the TV world makes is better than our crappy belongings? Bitter.
-Mark
Thursday, March 02, 2006
Hmm
I seem to remember posting something recently, but it's disappeared, or I'm an idiot.
Anyway, am I the only one that's really damn tired of shitty weather and learning? I'm not down or anything, but winter just pisses me off. And due to my stubbornness, it's not like I'm going to move to the states anytime soon, not until they clean up their fucking mess they made of themselves and stop bombing the shit out of other countries.
But I've just lost my will to give a shit about my schooling now. It usually happens that I get really lazy around Jan-April and coast my ass in the rest of the way, but this time there's work and I don't even KNOW when it's due cause I didn't bother writing it down. I'm on a downward spiral, but it's not like I had a bright future after I graduated.
Seriously, winter, fuck off. I hate you.
-Mark
Note: I am aware this was a pointless, unfocussed rant - I just need to vent cause I fucking hate Winter.
Anyway, am I the only one that's really damn tired of shitty weather and learning? I'm not down or anything, but winter just pisses me off. And due to my stubbornness, it's not like I'm going to move to the states anytime soon, not until they clean up their fucking mess they made of themselves and stop bombing the shit out of other countries.
But I've just lost my will to give a shit about my schooling now. It usually happens that I get really lazy around Jan-April and coast my ass in the rest of the way, but this time there's work and I don't even KNOW when it's due cause I didn't bother writing it down. I'm on a downward spiral, but it's not like I had a bright future after I graduated.
Seriously, winter, fuck off. I hate you.
-Mark
Note: I am aware this was a pointless, unfocussed rant - I just need to vent cause I fucking hate Winter.
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