Wednesday, October 26, 2011

An Argument Against The Argument Against Humanities

by a programmer in a cubicle

We've all been in the following situation, but reacted to it differently. A party rolls. Before everyone is too drunk to form rational thoughts, a debate emerges on a side of one room between some bachelors of science. Perhaps about a new bacterium discovered that there is no known effective anti-biotic for. Micro and Molecular are the foundation of the argument, but also Chem-E and Physics are chiming in. That's when Art and Philosophy show up, and one 'macrophage' misuse later they are glared out of the talk, the room in fact. Once they are out of earshot that old self flattering rhetorical question falls on the remaining ears: "What the fuck do you do with a philosophy degree?" The follow up 9 out of 10 times: "Work at Barnes and Nobles." The real answer: something we've been doing less and less of every decade, you think.

The dismissal of studies in pure humanities boils down to what everything in our society whittles into, money. In order to bring the breads home these days you have to distinguish yourself from your peers, or in today speak: the competition. Those on the engineering and science paths have essentially two ways to self dignify in modern academia: cram harder to boost their GPA and focus their knowledge. Too many people know biology, even at a level that schools have decided arbitrarily to call an A, so you hone on genetics. In your masters focus on a sequence or two. By Ph.d reception you know everything there is to know about a handful or reactions that happen in a space thousands of times smaller than a grain of sand. But what about the big picture?

Engineers enter the field with a broad knowledge base of mathematics and analytical thinking. Within five years at a company they are either experts on one class library and its uses in one software application or they calibrate one cog inside an enormous oiled machine. You become the ultimate tool to your company, but could there be better uses for your brain cells on a broader scale? It doesn't matter. Specialize or die. Focus or fuck off.

Pure humanities flows in the opposite way, from stream to ocean. Most can't fathom the purpose of a degree in Russian literature. What does she know, really? Well our Russian lit student needs to write a thesis. She can read Anna Karenina 300 times, but she likely won't find anything there that hasn't already been documented by thousands. So she brushes up on Tolstoy to find out what influenced his ways, which leads into detailed reading of Russian history during his time. Soon shes knee deep in marxism, political thought, individual thought post enlightenment, psychology, and just as she flips the page on an essay by Heidegger a light bulb goes off. A connection no one has made. A few semesters and 90,000 words later she has a degree. Perhaps with not much monetary value. But when she reads the daily news on her laptop that web of information is present. Also are those hundreds of thousands of pages she has read, researched. The unique connections will continue to form. And its in her nature to write about them, to share. And whether its a blog, article, or book some will find it, read it, and the tree of knowledge grows another leaf. Doctors and bankers aren't going home after 18 hour shifts and polishing up novels or touching up paintings. Who will stock the libraries, the museums, put words in the newspapers?

And if we return to our cocktail party a layer of hypocrisy reveals itself. Plant cells need to be studied to the finest detail in order to warrant thoughtful debate. But arts and life; you simply need to know enough to seem like you know enough to show people at a cocktail party that you know everything there is to know. How hard Art's and Philosophy's eyes must roll at times when the lab coats and suits talk politics. Another headline spat out about Sara Palin's latest missquote. The left and the right are bad. "Its all just politics. Everything comes down to money." Quite the thesis. Bravo! How many tongues I've seen bleeding from being bitten upon as a self proclaimed arts expert nearby went on about Magritte, Dali, and Escher - the only three human beings to have ever graced a canvas. And the patient sighs I've pitied as every conversation she had about fiction he turned into a default worship of Hunter S. Here's a fun drinking game. Go up to a group of males between the ages of 18-30 and say "I like books." Do a shot whenever someone says one of these film popularized go to's: Clockwork O, Fight Club, Easton Ellis, and the most recent addition The Road. Chances are you need to take a seat now. Can we get a glass of water for my friend here? 

You pepper a sentence with a few financial acronyms brace yourself for some oohhs and aahhs. CDO^2 FTW beeotch. But the word 'ubermensch' comes out your lips, and you're labeled a snob. Immediately someone snaps a photo of you. Congratulations, you're now a hipster meme on the internet. But our attention deficit twitter generation should be partaking in as many genuine face to face conversations as possible. Just as we need economists discussing the latest trends in global trade, we need lit buffs chatting about the other 90% of shelves at the library. About the books without wizards. Otherwise they don't get written. Then where are we? The collective thought shrivels.

But the most alarming of trends I've seen is that the dismissal of humanities goes past pity bordering on mindless loathing. One would think that those willing to sacrifice creature comforts to study their passion would be applauded. Instead I see the opposite. Its not deemed a sacrifice; it's throwing your life away. Or even more radical - its not just throwing your life away; It's giving up on society. What can you do to help the world with a degree that will only land you a job as barista? It doesn't stop at "I'm not paying 50k for that. I won't let my kid throw his/her life away." I've even bore witness to "I won't let my kids study that useless shit!"

First off, this is the fault of society and the mindset it begets - not the starving artist and the dreamer student. Book stores are going out business. Even the largest newspapers in the world are struggling. Not because no one is willing to write for such low pay - someone always admirably steps into those shoes. But because no one is reading them (we merely scan headlines on smart phones). Seven figure salaries will seem meaningless when we enter a new dark age of thought. Have you been the movies recently? Every box office smash these days is a brick in the road toward Idiocracy.   

Second, the notion that these subjects (the ones many think can only be retaught once mastered) are useless to our universe is beyond ignorance. And we get to the greatest defense of humanities or simultaneously its greatest achievement. There's a saying, "Lawyers and generals wrote human history." Look in a history book, and tell me it ain't true. I did. Seems to me like 90% of these lawyers and generals are infamous not famous. Their legacies are byproducts of how incredibly long it takes for war scars to heal.

For modern history, changes in the more current timeline, you have to add scientists: Newton, Einstein, Pasteur, Darwin etc. Of course, maths and sciences are just as significant now in our race's pool of knowing. But indeed it's hard to name a dentist, teacher, pastor, accountant, of engineer whose influence stretches the globe and will do so timelessly. Even the workings of Gates, Bernanke, Jobs, Zuckerberg, the Waltons will fade over the course of time. Their influences are huge, but the peaks they forged are local maxima.

But perhaps you'll recognize these names: Socrates, Homer, Locke, Beethoven, Woolf, Voltaire, Descartes, Hobbes, Emerson, DaVicnci, Nietzsche, Nabokov, Bacon, Jung, Confucius, Kubrick. Some of these people died millennia ago, and their influences are still waves. Never ripples.

Businessmen, technicians, architects, doctors, and everyone else operate the world. A few lawyers and generals changed the world. Those listed there above; they changed the way we think about the world. They changed the collective consciousness of generations ad infinitum. You want to study their work, and try to create something of your own? You want to attempt to follow in their footsteps?

Please. By all means.

And if you want to beam some enlightenment in my direction about some movement in post WWII Italian avant-guarde film while we wait for the next round of flip cup to start....Fuck it. I encourage that to.

Monday, October 24, 2011

Another Visit Home Another Migraine

Dad: Why you no pick up phone?
Me: You guys call me so many times with such lunacy that I have to make decisions when I see the house on caller ID.
Dad: I called once. To tell you to bring the camera home when you come.
Me: Ask your wife how many times she called me.
Dad: Now what has she done?
Me: She called her grown child like 30 times before my doctors appointment. "Did you make the appointment?" Yes. "Is it at a good time?" No its at midnight. "Make sure you leave in time. I would get there 30 minutes before your scheduled"- CLICK. She calls back. "Do you know how to get to the building?" Sigh...yes. "Do you know where the building is?"-CLICK.
Dad: Jesus Christ woman.
Me: It gets better. She calls back a little later. This time to lecture me on what to tell the doctor.
Dad: What to tell the doctor?
Me: Yeah. "Make sure you tell him what's wrong with you. You need to let him know you are sick."
Dad: Mother of god.
Me: If she hadn't informed me I recon the doctor would have asked me how I was, and I would have smiled at the guy and said, "No, doc. How are YOU feeling?" Then he would have broke down in tears and told me about his divorce. Then I probably would have sang to him. One of the folk songs his grandmother used to put him to sleep with as a baby. Then a 40 dollar copay and 10 dollar parking fee later I would have sat in the car with a smile on my face when suddenly a sneeze comes. Oh wait, I forgot to mention I was sick.
***Mother is nodding in a 'this could definitely happen' type way***
***Father is running his nails down his face***
Me: And that, dear father...Is why I don't answer calls from home.

Wednesday, October 5, 2011

Stickiness on TV


Why would I read a book by Malcolm Gladwell?, I used to always think. The covers of his books are littered with acclaim, but then you read the back with a perplexed look: Some things are big. Others are small. Some things are in between. Gladwell discusses this phenomena in stunning detail. So maybe thats a bit of a hyperbole, but his topics seemed so obvious.

At last, I caved and read Tipping Point. For the most part it was more no duh than I could have imagined. It wasn't just marketing 101 like I had assumed; it was literally common sense. Do the people who read this not wake up in the morning and think about "things" before they go to bed at night?

If you clean up graffiti crime rates fall because spray painted walls give an impression to people of a lawless society. People aren't cool because they smoke, people who are rebellious and seen as cool are more likely to smoke. Some people have more friends and social skills than others and are important in word of mouth epidemics. Gladwell you are a genius. I honestly think these are concepts I grasped about society before I turned 12. All it took was watching one John Carpenter film, observing kids smoke at the bus stop in middle school, and talking to more that 14 people in my life.

However....there are two chapters in Tipping Point that pay for the price of admission alone. Ideas I was not only exposed to but directed toward yet I had never really thought of them in any detail. One of these conversations is about television programming for children and the search for the 'stickiest' show.

In the beginning there was Sesame Street. The most important thing to keep in mind for this entire discussion is that there is a false notion about television. To this day people criticize the technology because they feel that people, especially children, become addicted to it and will stare like mindless zombies for hours on end. We are all familiar with the phrase "zone out." But not surprisingly, it turns out that people (especially children) have wandering attention spans. Keeping them focused is not remotely as simple as turning on the TV. Their minds will drift almost immediately. And in order to teach children with a program you have to maintain their attention.

Through thousands of trials and studies that no one had ever thought to do before, the creators of Sesame Street made a number of novel discoveries. Kids only paid attention when the familiar muppets where on screen and their minds would drift if a segment went longer than 3 minutes. The result was a magazine show, or a series of short sketches that repeatedly used the same characters. Children were hooked. For 25 it was the pinnacle of child television.

Then a few people upped the ante and made Blues Clues. Personally I had no idea Blues Clues had any sort of relevance in society, but it has become the most addictive and heralded show of its kind. Every episode follows the same trajectory. Blue disappears and leaves three clues behind for the one human character, Steve, to find him by. This is one of the important distinctions between Blues Clues and Sesame Street. What they realized was that though segments had to be short to keep attention spans in check - children also needed motivation. Though they were too young to appreciate story arcs or character development children felt a sense of accomplishment from making the connections. From point A to B. From B to C. And from C to finding out where Blue is.

This common thread through each episode was the only level of sophistication Blues Clues added to the working formula. Everything else was simplified even further. Sesame Street, years before, had made an episode where Big Bird receives a package. Its at this moment that Big Bird realizes that he is the only character on the Street whose name is what he is. What results is a search for identity. The episode had emotional depth, a physiological weight to it, and was also funny. When they tested the episode on children it bombed. A search for self was not something children could relate to. Yet at least. It was too sophisticated a concept.

In Blues Clues everyone is named what they are. Salt and Pepper. Mr. Couch. Mailman. Etc. More importantly they always act the same. When Steve sets out to find Blue the same characters are always a bit sassy and difficult and the same ones are nice and helpful. The characters are really only there so that Steve can present information to the children without always addressing the camera directly. "I see, Flower. So what you are saying is [insert information]?"

The result is a TV show that has sat on impressive ratings for almost two decades. I finished that chapter and my view of the world actually did change a bit. It got the wheels in my mind churning and I thought of something Gladwell never touched on, perhaps because when the book was published it was a bit too early to see. Blues Clues had found the formula for making the most sticky and addictive program ever. And now every show on TV was literally Blues Clues for adults.

This is because every popular long lasting show on network (other than Lost) is a episodic hospital or crime procedural program. House and CSI are Blues Clues for adults. This, of course, is a euphemism for  "television for morons." Blues Clues found out how to keep the attention span of children. Jerry Brocheimer and the creators of CSI made a very important realization: the 35 year old American knows less and might actually be dumber than a 12 year old in school. The only thing adults know more about is Sex. And they have also been desensitized to violence. So they took Blues Clues and added sex and violence.

Every episode of doctor shows and cop shows follows the same route. There is no real story or allegorical implication. There is simply a sick person or a dead person and we have to follow the characters  from A to B to C to either a conviction or a diagnosis. B and C are either "breaks", "false accusations", or "false diagnoses." No scene is more than 3 minutes and when "learning" is happening we are presented with a snappy CGI presentation to fill in the information in a visual manner. If information is presented only orally minds will stray. Someone has to fire a weapon or almost die every six minutes or audience attention is lost. Screaming can also be used to signal to the viewer "hey, its time to pay attention again."

The characters have names but they are irrelevant. You can start midway through the third season and discover which is the good cop and bad cop in 14 seconds. Even if you are blind you know who the black cop is because he says things like "Dats messed up" and "Don't make us come back, ya hear?"

The characters never change. House is not so much a person as much as an encyclopedia of medical show cliches and a phone book of 'that's what she said' snarks. His team follows the trend. There's the one that stands up to his shit. The one that always doubts him and the one that is just a bit more ethical. In the end it doesn't matter because again they are only there so House doesn't have to address the camera directly. "So what you are saying is [insert information here]?" he'll ask. To which the Australian guy will say, "Yes. Those are the side effects of a bad blood transfusion. Thank you for explaining that to me like I had never opened a medical book in my entire life. But you are right. Areas can inflame and become bigger than average." Wait for it....You know its coming...."That's what she said."

The fact that programming directed at toddlers and programming for adults deals with the same battle against attention deficit has more negative repercussions than just awareness of the sad fact that this is where society stands today. I mean books? Forget about it. The most popular books amongst adults are children's books. Not books like children's books. Children's books period. One side effect is that any television show that parts from the formula for say artistic reasons is either canned or never green lit in the first place. Not enough people want to juggle a dozen characters in interesting and interlocking plot lines. This leaves the rest of us, the hungry ones, with one good show to watch a season and our own daydreams to fill the void.

The second problem I see is that Sesame Street and Blues Clues have been proven to work. As in they educate our kids. The shows are not just sticky; the information sticks. I'm aware of the matra "to each his own." And entertainment is entertainment after all, but crime procedurals and doctor shows actually make people dumber. Or in the least bit gives them a false sense of intellect which is very dangerous. Numerous articles have appeared about criminal cases falling apart because the jury wouldn't convict an evident killer. The reason is that television has garnered the false notion to them that all killers spend 20% of their time killing people and 80% of their time ejaculating on their victims personal belongings. Similarly, people are second guessing doctors around the country because they are positive their symptoms point to radioactive poisoning and not the flu. "It was raining yesterday. Could I have been struck by lightning?" Sigh...Physician suicide rates are at an all time high. 

A final cause for concern is that stupidity is a slippery slope. CSI ratings started to slip. Instead of hiring crime experts to give the show a revamp we instead were introduced to CSI: Miami. The solution was to lower the bar. In an episode of NCIS a hacker has attacked one of the computers. We know this because random windows are appearing on one of the character's screens so she starts typing furiously. What happens next is a snapshot of everything wrong with the modern world...another person starts typing on the same keyboard AT THE SAME TIME. Four hands, two brains, and one spacebar is what this problem needs. expert suicide rates are at an all time high.

But ultimately Tipping Point is not about stickiness. Sticky messages are easier to propagate but what spreads the message like wild fire. How does the epidemic start? What is the tipping point? One day CSI was brought onto the world. How did it become the most watched show on television? I figure the conversation at some watercooler at a random corporation went something like this...

Steve: Did you see the new show CSI last night?
Sue: No. What's that about?
Steve: It's like derp a doop a tee da luu.
Sue: Omg. Who's in it?
Steve: Dim terp a doop a beep a boo and dink a dirka dada dew.
Sue: Whappa winka tinka a too. I have to see it!
(Jim approaches. He's what Gladwell calls a connector. Someone that spreads ideas because they have lots of friends and free time)
Jim: What are you guys talking about?
Steve: Ferpa. Ferpa derpa fadika purpah.
Jim: Sounds interesting. Go on...

When the three of them finished their conversation they went back to their desks neglecting the puddle of drool they had left on the tile. It just so happened that on this given day the janitor was out sick so the pool sat their stagnate for hours. One cell organisms started to grow in the clear syrup. They merged with other cells. By midnight they had formed worms and primitive insects. At 2 AM a small fish grew legs and left the pool. At Jim's desk it found a half eaten bar of candy. By the time it finished eating the treat it had fur and was walking on two legs. By 6 AM the creature roughly resembled an early human. At 8:07 AM he logged on to Jim's computer guessing his password in 7 tries. He opened notepad and started typing. At 8:19 AM he printed out the pilot episode of The Big Bang Theory.

I'm not a journalist like Gladwell. I have no sources to back that up. But let's just speculate for a moment; how else could it have happened?

Thursday, September 29, 2011

Every Time I Visit Home

Dad: How are you doing these days?
Me: Actually recently...not too hot. I was sick for a few days and then I got a cough that's lasted almost two weeks. I think I might have whooping cough or something.
Dad: You don't have whooping cough.
Me: I don't?
Dad: No. In my village people would die in droves of whooping cough.
Me: Maybe it wasn't whooping cough. Its not always the same severity. I bet these were children.
Dad: Men. Soldiers. You don't have whooping cough. You would be coughing all day.
Me: I do. It gets worse--
Dad: You're breathing aren't you? You know what people died from when they got it? Their lungs would rip apart into two pieces. Sometimes more!
*he rips apart the orange he is eating and lets the pieces fall to the floor "dramatically" (its not dramatic because falling pieces of orange is never dramatic) *
Me: Can we change the subject?
Mom: Well I was meaning to ask. Do you want to go spear fishing with dad and Brian when it gets warm again?
Me: I've been home three times in the last 2 months. Every single time you ask me this. And I answer. But this time let me emphasize the inanity of your question. You're asking me if I would want to go fishing in like 8 months? Like actually three seasons from now.
Mom: Why can't we talk like a normal family? You always shut us out.
Me: Because its utter dejavu every time I am here. First I say something. Then dad starts making beyond absurd statements - queue flashback to communist Hungary. Meanwhile you sit in silence totally spaced out. And I see in your eyes that  you are running through a list of insipid questions to ask searching for the least dumb of the bunch. Which is mind boggling because you end up asking a question that merits entry into a sitcom script, and 90% of the time its a question you've asked at least a dozen times before. I don't even know if I can comprehend what the questions you don't deem worthy of asking are. Are they just a stream of random words followed by a question mark? Either way that's the reason we can't talk like a "normal" family. Cuz its just absurd statements followed by absurd questions.
Dad: I have never told a lie in my entire life. Mother would cut off a finger for a lie. And look! 10 fingers!
Mom: Why can't you just answer my questions without me asking them then?
Me: ....Am I the only one getting the irony here?
Dad: You're too young to know what irony is. Irony is standing on a muddy street with Soviet tanks rolling by splashing the dirty water in your face. That's irony!
* two minutes of awkward silence. She has that look in her eyes and then...*
Mom:  But listen! I was meaning to ask. I saw a movie the other day. It had that lady who's in a lot of films. She moves to LA to write or something...I can't remember. But then at the end she goes home, but her father is still angry about stuff. Have you seen that one?
Me: I....I have to go.

Tuesday, September 20, 2011

Entourage Is The Worst Show Ever

At least the worst show I have ever watched through. I have two guilty pleasures on TV. One of them is True Blood. I know its not good and must be a guilty pleasure because girls watch it too. Its really that simple.

Girl: Did you see blank?
Me: No.
Girl: Have you read blank?
Me: Nope.
Girl: Are you excited about blank?
Me: Never heard of it.
Girl: Do you watch True Blood?
Me: (scratches forehead for a moment)...yeah.
Girl: Omg it is sooooooooo good.
Me: Well. It used to be solid, now...
Girl: OMG. Who is your favorite character?
Me: Bill is the only consistently interesting character.
Girl: Ew. I hate Bill. He's so mean. I would never date him.
Me: That's what you...
Girl: I hate Tara even more.
Me: Well yeah. She's useless.
Girl: I mean who wears that top to a bar?
Me: ?
Girl: I would marry Alcide. Omg. He's my favorite. Except for Eric.
Me: Isn't Eric like meaner than Bill?
Girl: I would date him every time he takes his shirt off.
Me: I have to go.

Maybe it will never be as good as it used to in the first two seasons, but Alan Ball has something up his sleeve....right? Either way it can't possibly end as poorly as Entourage.

I was in the camp that wasn't too offended when Entourage stopped being funny. Its plot driven now. Whatever. Then I just hung in there in the last season. Who cares. Whats the worst that can happen? Apparently the answer is a swift kick to dick.

Entourage used to be introspective. It was a partial satire of the emptiness that is Hollywood. Vince was our good looking hero. He was also an embodiment of the problem. Will he see the reality of his ways? No. Because the writers of Entourage caught a wiff of their own farts and stopped breathing air opting for ass gas instead. And the side effects were that they lost their fucking minds.

How could a show that spent 3+ good seasons painting the excesses of showbizz take a shit on our faces like that?

E and Sloan are fighting. Solution: reforge your relationship on lies and here's a jet to take you wherever you want. Your dad will cut you off? Who cares? We're all rich here.

Is Turtle ever going to be anyone? Well he's rich now so....there's that.

Will Ari get back together with his wife? He needs to have that deep moment where he realizes what's been missing from his marriage. And ah-ha. I got it. Its not what was missing. Its what wasn't. We don't need more money. I'm rich. Lets just be fucking rich. I love you honey.

Vince. Which ring would you like to buy for your fiance you met 48 hours ago? The expensive one...because she's an intelligent woman....and I'm rich.

The closing shot is a private jet on its way to Paris on which sits every character whose problems have vanished because they all realized they were rich. It's like the exact opposite of boats beating on against the current.

And I sat there and waited for the plane to crash. No dice. Then I waited for the following scene:

Captain: There's too much gold on this plane. We have to shed some weight or we'll crash. At least 180 pounds need to be dumped to stabilize.
Turtle: What do we do, Vince?
Vince: Drama.
Drama: Yeah baby bro?
Vince: How much do you weigh?

Fade out.

Now that's a real fucking ending.

Tuesday, April 12, 2011

Metermaids and Radio

Metermaids and the radio have an eerie similarity for me. This commonality becomes apparent when you juxtapose each with other similar entities.

Take radio and compare it to other mediums of entertainment: radio, television, film. (I left out books from this discussion because I didn't feel like providing a link to the wikipedia page for books for all the people reading this that don't know what a book is). If you take a snapshot of everything any of these mediums presents us with currently its not a very good picture. Lets face it, most movies released these days blow. Most of TV is absolute garbage.

But about ten times a year I walk out of the theater with a smile on my face. And at least 30 nights a year I'm actually stocked about what will be on TV. A rough estimate is that 90% of what is on TV and the movie screens is trash, but 10% is bonafide quality entertainment.

Then we get to to radio. 90% of radio is a migraine. These tracks are okay at a club or a 12 year old girls birthday party. But why would I want to listen to them in my car? So that leaves 10%. 10% of the radio must be quality tunes, then right? No. Now we get to radio's special ubber suckitude.

The remaining 10% of the radio is songs I used to like. That's right. Radio is so bad, that not only is it littered with the worst tracks from around the destroys that which was once likable. I used to like Nirvana. Used to. Now I like about three Nirvana songs because I've heard every other song from their catalog at least 19 thousand times.

At this point their rendition of Lake of Fire makes me want to off myself. The irony in that sentence is actually about 9 dimensions deeper than you might think reading it for the first time. Other than Nikita Volchemkov, the foreign exchange student from Moldova who just stepped off his plane and onto U.S. soil for the first time, is there a single person in this fucking country that hears Jeremy come on the radio and thinks "Good song. Haven't heard this one in a while."? The highlight of any of my radio experiences is "Ha. Haven't heard this commercial yet."

If I forget my ipod I'll click through the 6 presets in my car then proceed to punch the power button with a tightly clenched fist. Then I clear my throat and belt out some tunes shamelessly. Possibly boy bands. If you're nearby and just as frustrated because Rooster is playing feel free to pull down your window and we can harmonize until this light turns green. Fuck you radio.


Now if radio can be compared to television and film, metermaids can be matched with serial rapists and Nazi generals. Now read that last sentence carefully. No. I don't think that a typical Nazi soldier or someone who only raped once is quite up to snuff with metermaids. You have to have made decisions to commit atrocities on more than one occasion. Lets face it. Nazi generals, serial rapists, and metermaids deserve to die. One can argue that the world would be a better place with them dead.

But so what makes metermaids special? I'll tell you. A metermaid dying actually makes me happy. It literally brings me joy. It makes my loins tingle. If my grandfather was executed at a camp or my daughter a rape victim then knowing their assailant was punished by death would make me feel justified, but not elated. Nothing would undo the history.

Whereas if I read the following headline: "Gang Chooses Metermaid for Murder Initiation" then its like hearing the punchline to an amazing joke. When metermaids die I unleash a fist pump that puts Leyton Hewitt's post Wimbledon win celebration to shame.

But Siggi. Nothing will bring back the money you lost on parking tickets. Who cares? That wart covered, troll tall, anti-bio, piece of rotting feces that looks up at the scum of society is now being eaten by worms. And then vomited out the same end because they can't pass anything that foul through their system.

Horatio: What have we got?
Forensics: Looks like a metermaid shot in the face.
Horatio: Hold on...Siggi. Horatio here. We got a dead metermaid here in Miami....ok....Yep.
Forensics: Who was that? What did he say?
Horatio: "I'm cumming right now."


Thursday, April 7, 2011

Things That Are Worse Than If The Black Eyed Peas Died In A Plane Crash


1. A genocide happens in Rwanda.

2. A plantation slave is separated from his family.

3. A soldier is killed fighting for his country.

4. A woman is diagnosed with cervical cancer.

5. A child goes to bed hungry.

6. The family dog breaths its last breath.

7. An athlete tears a MCL and is out for the season.

8. Your car gets smashed into while parked.

9. You get in a fight with your spouse.

10. Doing taxes.

11. You stub one of your toes on the curb.

12. Your foot itches and you're wearing shoes.

13. You have to scribble for a second to get the ink flowing from your pen.

14. A loud commercial.

15. The vending machine rejects your dollar the first time you try it.

16. You have to watch the credits to Bernie Mac before Malcolm In The Middle starts.

17. You have to put your foot down while at an intersection on your bike.

19. Going to “google.xom.”

20. Every single hick up.

21. A sneeze is coming so you get ready for it…then you don’t.

22. Some of the popcorn kernels don’t pop. One is burnt.

23. Getting change back from a store purchase. Its all quarters, but still. Now you have to carry them.

24. The only available urinal is the child sized one.

25. Every single use of the backspace key.

26. Your foot itches. You're not wearing shoes,...but still.

27. You get to the stop but the bus is still a block away. By the time you get your wallet out its still 20 feet you wait.

28. Too much foam at the top of your beer.

29. A body temperature of 98.7 degrees.

30. You turn on the TV to watch your stories but it wasn’t left on the channel you planned on watching. Now you have to change it.

31. You land second place instead of first in the heart transplant list.

32. Any weekend chance of precipitation above 5% weighing on your mind.

33. You bring home two playful twins from the club, but even though they are identical one has a cute mole making her just slightly hotter than her sister.

34. Your hockey team is up 3-2. The other team pulls their goalie. Your team wins…but they don’t score an empty net goal.

35. You go to Wendy’s and order a ten piece chicken nugget. You get 11…but you’re just not that hungry.

36. You have to catch your breath after laughing hysterically for five minutes straight.

37. The store is all out of that thing you didn’t want.

38. You win the lottery but the money is at the bank, and they insist you have to come sign a form in person.

39. You find a genie. He will give you three wishes. Unlike the Genie from Aladdin he will in fact kill the Black Eyed Peas for you…but even he doesn’t have the power to erase your memory of their songs.

40. You realize that there are no more entries in this list after this one.

Tuesday, January 25, 2011

You Know Your Dad Grew Up In A Soviet Occupied Country(Continued Again)...


If your dad is not Asian but proudly sports a fanny pack and a $3000 dollar camera so heavy that if not for its worth could be used to hammer in railroad spikes.

If whenever your name is called on a PA system, say to announce a placing at a swim meet, the guy first spends 2-3 minutes apologizing in advance for all the ancestors he's going to anathema with what he's about to do to your family name.

If while your brother was enjoying his Cookie Crisps your dad ever took a scale then some sugar and measured out the exact amount in his servings per week. As the scoops keep piling onto to what is quickly becoming a mountain your brother puts down his spoon and swallows hard. Then your dad leans right down to his tiny 7 year old ear. You can't quite make out what he says, but you can hear just enough and your brother's face affirms your hypothesis...."You're going to die."

If your mom has ever intervened into one of your dad's socio-political speeches with a "Don't listen to him boys. He's a Lenin loving commie bastard with a pitch fork still stuck up his ass."

If your dad isn't Asian but is a scientist.

If your dad ever watched a Clint Eastwood movie edited for TV where "bitch" is dubbed with "buster" and then when you accidentally drop a "Watch it buster!" a month later your dad shoves a bar of soap down your throat then heimlich manuvers it out with a series of gut punches reminiscent of Agent Smith vs. Neo. Ironically, you're wearing your "Buster Bear" t-shirt for as mentioned previous; its the only shirt you own.

If your dad has ever poured liquid nitrogen into the apartment swimming pool and watched gleefully as you and all the kids pranced around in the ensuing fog then eased the anguish of the Apartment Manager with a simple, "Trust me. I am a scientist."

If your dad has ever tried to convince you that prior to your birth, not so long ago, every world cup, chess tournament, war, nobel prize, monolith discovery, and unicorn siting were all won/done by your fellow country men. The internet is then invented and you start at the top of the list. It says here that we've never won the gold at the world cup. "YOU CALLING ME A LIAR?!?!?"

If the first time you saw Charlie and The Chocolate Factory with your family you asked "Hey! You think they're using the same recipe as us?" Then your dad responds, "I dunno son. Their cabbage soup looks like it might have a little meat in it. Spoiled bastards."

If your first pair of rollerblades came with a half can of opened tuna and a broken comb in them.

If you thought school lunch was fucking awesome!

If social services ever called your house after a particularly boisterous episode of wooden stirring spoon meets ass cheeks and asks you to cough or sniff if your dad is in the room with you. *cough*sniff*cough*sniff!!! (although the stirring spoon was mothers weapon of choice)

If your dad has ever turned away a door to door salesman pitching exercise equipment with a smile and the following: "I have two boys...They are very bad."

If you're not only resistant to common forms of mold and fungus, but actually accustomed to their taste.

If you've ever located your dad and his buddies on the tennis courts by filtering your sight on areas where there was the most amount of hairy man flesh and the least amount of clothing.

If you're not Asian but are well versed in the flavor and texture of beef tripe.

If your dad has never spent more than 1/18th his annual salary on a car, and said car is always a wagon...for optimal tools and farming equipment transport without succumbing to despicable American over gluttony ie SUV's and Trucks.

If your favorite toy as a child was Pine Cone, defender of Stick Land!

If your dad stops to salute anyone that even looks like they are tending to crops.

If your dad has ever fed you mushrooms right off the forest floor then appeased your mothers hyperventilation with a simple, "Trust me. I am a scientist."

If contractors come over to borrow tools from your dad.

If your dad is not Asian yet is a master of hand-to-face combat and the ways of ninja. Basically if he can karate chop you and your brother in the back of the head before your house guest lifts his eyelids from a blink. "What happened to them? Are they alright?" Yeah. They are just very tired from misbehaving all day. Maybe you two should go lie your heads down for a few minutes.

If the only time you've ever seen your dad without a beard is in a photograph on his bedroom wall from when he was 17 that he smiles at every morning because it brings him back to his psuedo hippie youth. Also if he has ever beat you for asking if that was his sister. Honest to god it was a fair question.

If instead of photographs and VHS tapes your best source of memorabilia from your youth is to pick up a John Steinbeck novel.

Friday, January 14, 2011

The New Zodiac

The Zodiac breakdown changed recently and people started freaking out. And by freaking out I mean making status updates. Then it turns out that if you're a westerner your zodiac is based on the seasons and not a constellation so absolutely nothing has changed.

To appease you even more I looked up all the horoscopes and noticed that all of them are identical anyway so you literally have nothing to worry about. See for yourself:

Sign Horoscope

Aries Get a life.
Taurus Get a life.
Gemini Get a life.
Cancer Get a life.
Leo Get a life.
Virgo Get a life.
Libra Get a life.
Scorpio Get a life.
Sagittarius Get a life.
Capricorn Get a life.
Aquarius Get a life.
Pisces Get a life.
The New One Get a life.

But how will you know what type of person you are? What sort of traits you have? Two options. Think about it for 2 seconds. Ask someone. And as for who you are compatible with in terms of a soul mate. Well. You saw your horoscope. You'll have to get a life first.

Thursday, January 13, 2011

American Irony Club

Reading can be difficult for some so we're bringing a new medium to this blog...