Star Wars, hipsters, and their unholy union...

Hipsters.  They have an amazing ability to co-opt things they didn't invent and make them popular.  Too popular.  Annoyingly popular.  Stupid popular.  This irritates me.  I have touched on this before.  Things I have enjoyed for decades in relative anonymity have now been thrust into the corporate spotlight (due to corporations slavish devotion to try to sell ANYTHING to that all important 18-25 demographic*) as well as all over mass media.  This has had the unfortunate effect of driving up the prices on things I love, as well as making them nauseatingly trendy.  The list (although not all-inclusive) of these items include: bourbon (I've been drinking it forever, and it's been the adult beverage of choice in my family for generations.  Previous 20-something's view of bourbon, and really, whiskey, in general: "Ewwwww!  Tastes like gasoline!  Where's the Smirnoff Ice????" Now?  "It's soooo good!  You can really taste the " as they try and not gag and secretly wish there was a melon flavored something they could enjoy without shame); maple syrup (fake pancake syrup is gross.  I have held this standard as far back as I can remember.  Generally, if it's not available, I will change my breakfast order to a dish that doesn't require syrup.  It just tastes BETTER.  By far.  Now?  Somebody has decided that real maple syrup has some kind of anti-oxidant benefit and is an acceptable "natural" sweetener for a New Agey diet.  It's been lumped into Agave syrup and other exotics.  Whatever.  Thanks for doubling its price you twats**); butter (been the family standard cooking fat of choice since I was born, as well as the obvious choice for toast, etc.  I used to go to friends homes as a kid and they'd offer me margarine and it was all I could do not to wretch as I tried to choke it down.  I discovered grass fed butter when I went to England in 1995.  I loved it.  Kerry Gold was the closest to it you could get here, and I used to buy it as a treat...was awesome on sourdough with blackberry jam.  Now?  It's the uber cool thing to mix into your coffee.  Um...ok.  So now, every Silicon Valley master of the universe is mixing it into their fair trade, organic, lizard dung beans every morning for it's transformative health benefits.  Again, giant "what-evs" from me...other than, again, thanks for driving the price through the roof); bacon (used to be bacon was Satan's candybar.  The nitrates!  Meat is murder!  Cancer!  Etc. Etc.  And it was cheap...generally, the cheapest cut of meat at the grocery store.  Now?  Every dingleberry with a beard and waxed mustache has webpages devoted to the worship of it, and restaurateurs and food trucks have entire lines of cuisine devoted to it.  Again, the end result?  Bacon is like the price of steak now, and suddenly a delicacy that can be found coated in chocolate, on donuts, and mixed into ice-cream); slim-cut jeans (when I was in high-school, you could not find a slim-cut jean.  Most folks had to either fold over the pant leg and cuff it up, or, if you were a bit more punkish, some folks would safety pin them up along the seam.  Me?  I got tired of messing with it and would rip the seam out and have my mom...who could blissfully sew...re-stitch them up to my satisfaction.  It wasn't perfect, but it would do.  Now?  The glockenspiel and flannel shirt crowd wears jeans so tight they must cut off circulation to their ankles.  Fine.  Whatever.  But when I wear a pair of jeans with a slender cut, the same way I have since about '84-'85, I feel like I'm being shamelessly trendy, as opposed to wearing the same jeans I have for the last 30 years, and will continue to wear when they are no longer in style, and the "kids" go back to wearing jeans that fit like a circus tent); desert boots (I've been wearing them since 1988, and I have the pics to prove it.  For reasons I do not understand, they became "the shit".  Again, prices exploded.  Blissfully waiting for the day they become passe, and I can wear my Clarks in peace again); tacos (how much do I love tacos?  I found one of my mom's old diaries where an entry talks about when I was 3 yrs. old and recovering from pneumonia, my mom knew I was on the mend because I ate TWO tacos.  It used to be you had to go to the latin part of town to find a good taco, because the only other choice was Taco Bell...which is fine if you're drunk, or starving and in a hurry, or both, but it's hardly the epitome of the taco.  Now?  Food trucks roam the streets featuring things like Korean rib and kimchi tacos.  For some reason, it has been decided the fried corn tortilla has been declared the hipster food delivery starch of choice.  I'm waiting for the maple infused bacon taco with a bourbon reduction to emerge from the pierced eyebrow crowd), etc.  You get the picture here.  There's more, like the sudden re-emergence of shoegaze music, but I'll save that rant for another time.  So, my latest annoyance?  The worship of STAR WARS.

I have a strong emotional attachment to Star Wars.  I saw the original release when it debuted in 1977, and remember being a wee tyke standing in line for HOURS outside the theater in a line that wrapped around the building multiple times.  I remember thinking "this is stupid....why are we waiting so long?  I want to go home...you're screwing up my Saturday and cartoon watching time".  Then, I finally got into the theater, and my mind was absolutely blown for the next two hours.  It was a game changer.  Nothing, and I mean NOTHING had ever been made like that before.  I was instantaneously hooked.  I bought the soundtrack records (yes, records.  33 1/3 baby...) and listened to them obsessively.  I saw it in the theaters on its original run like 4-5 times (a big deal back then), watched the Christmas specials, The Muppet Show specials, had every toy released, etc.  In 1983 for Return of the Jedi, as a brand new teen, I honestly developed my "Slave Leia" obsession (this obsession was only nearly equalled by that other transformative female lead in a Sci-Fi moment I had experienced years earlier: Jenny Agutter in Logan's Run...ah, memories) by actually seeing Carrie Fisher in the movie in an unexpected way, as opposed to it being some sort of now cool nerd fetish.  When Empire was released, I found a pair of ski goggles and would wrap a sock (I didn't own a scarf) around my mouth while wearing a winter jacket (this is in the middle of a Fresno summer, btw) so I could look like the Rebel troops fighting the Imperial Army on Hoth.  My parents thought I was more than a little odd.  Years later, when the prequels were released, despite how I may have felt about them, I watched and enjoyed them for what they were.  I didn't go on tirades about how George Lucas had screwed up the franchise, etc. (here's a concept: it was HIS franchise.  He could "do" with it as he pleased).  I was especially galled when 20-somethings, too young to have seen the originals when they came out, or even most theatrical re-releases, wrote long and lengthy pieces about how they felt their childhood was now tarnished by these new abominations.  Really?  What childhood memories?  What Kairotic moment?  Sitting at home on the sofa and watching them on VHS/DVD while you simultaneously played your Nintendo DS?  That's not an investment.  That's not a transitive moment.  They simply cannot know what it was like to stand in the heat for 4-5 hours to see something wholly new.  So new, Lucas had to invent new cameras and XF techniques just to make the movies.  These Gen-Y, Gen-Next nattering nabobs of narcissism grew up with the XF blockbuster.  The movie world was transformed long before they started watching movies.

Anyways, something happened in the last few years to where Star Wars became a "thing".  Girls are now sporting hoochie R2-D2 dresses and Slave Leia costumes at conventions, guys are getting Sith Lord tattoos, blah blah blah.  Whenever I see a 23 year old exclaim, "I'm such a Star Wars nerd!", I want to ask, "Why?"  Did they stand in line as a child for hours on end to see the films because there was no cable or at home video?  Did the movies open up a new world of fantasy that had never been seen before?  Just why, exactly, do you have a Wookie tattooed to your ass?  I'm curious...please enlighten me.  I don't think they really know, other than some Borg-like, nerd hive-mind somewhere decided "Thou shalt like Star Wars!  Oh, and bacon and whiskey too...", and like the empty headed lemmings they are, they all swan-dove off of the bearded, craft brewed, locally sourced cliff.
So, here we are, another thing sullied by the hipster d-bag crowd.  Is it too much to expect these folks to come up with something on their own?  Or are they too creatively bankrupt?  Maybe their electronic interconnectedness has prevented anyone from breaking out from the crowd and come up with their own thing?  Their generation blockbuster movies are all based on comic books going back decades.  Where's their George Lucas?  Actually, that's not entirely fair.  They have been great at technical innovation.  I give them credit for taking the internet revolution and running with it.  But they seem so tech heavy/savvy, so obsessed with the technical, the digital, the STERILE, they seem to lack the ability to indulge in the ephemeral, or even the corporeal.  They're so bored and over stimulated, they've never experienced a true visceral moment.  Seems kind of sad...***

Anyways, here's a few other things I massively enjoyed in my younger days.  Let's see how long before they become bastardized by the hipster crowd: original, un-pc Warner Bros. cartoons, especially any featuring Daffy Duck in a satirical role (Duck Dodgers, The Scarlet Pumperkickel, Duck Twacy, etc.); ska logo t-shirts (Specials/The Beat, etc); the Ibanez MC 800/900 bass guitar; pot roast/beef stew; the Tom Collins; and bikini underwear on women (as opposed to the "thong"...bleh).
Let's see what happens...

*when KFC and Budweiser are making commercials featuring the mustachioed crowd, the supposed lovers of irony (as evidenced by their beloved t-shirts) are failing to grasp that they, themselves, have become ironic  
**my chosen name for hipsters, and often used together.  See "hipster twats" in previous posts.
***Sad or not, you've stained Star Wars...and for that, there is no sympathy or forgiveness      

Hipsters, whiskey, desert boots, Keira Knightley, Snoop Dogg, yachts, Cristal, Kardashians, Black Friday and lumbersexuals

OK hipsters. I've tolerated your idiotic love of ridiculous beards and "ironic" mustaches, and bands that feature Appalachian musical instruments as a lead melodic device. Fine. Have at it you pathetic numbskulls. I've even forced myself to be OK with your currently having ruined the most amazing piece of footwear ever invented, the Clarks desert boot (I've been wearing them since I was a teenager. I wear them now. In fact, I will probably be buried in a pair. I've been wearing them for over 25 years.  I'm in it for the long haul. I didn't wear them all those years ago because others thought they were cool, I wore them because I THOUGHT they were cool. You didn't see flannel clad d-bags in KFC commercials wearing them. Know how I discovered them? I saw a guy wearing them on an old Yardbirds album cover from the 60's and decided I liked them. It then took forever to find a pair in Fresno because corporate America wasn't forcing them down our throats because they were trying to appeal to that 18-25 demo. Now? Every 22 year old in skinny jeans and a waxed handlebar mustache is wearing a pair. But that's fine. Soon, they will fall out of fashion, and you guys will be on to something else....maybe elf shoes with the little jingle bell on the curled toe? Anyways...I'll have my desert boots back is all that matters). But what I cannot abide is you twats having driven the price of whiskey, specifically bourbon, through the stratosphere. IT'S RIDICULOUS. I'm sure you fixie riding, ironic dive bar attending idiots think it's beyond cool you're enjoying a beverage your granddaddy drank. Thing is, I don't think you even like it. I can see your little pinched faces as you drink it knowing deep down inside you'd rather be drinking a Smirnoff Ice or something. Anyways, your strict adherence to drinking something "retro" and "ironic" has driven the price of your basic, everyday working man whiskies to $25-30 a bottle. A bottle of Makers Mark used to run $19.99. Wild Turkey 101 could be had for less than that. Now? Forget it. And, a higher end item like a Van Winkle, while not cheap, could at least be found on the shelf at your local specialty liquor store. Now? They're sold out pre-release. WTF?????? Stop ruining everything good in life with your slavish devotion to trend. It's sickening, and destroying it for those of us who appreciate things for their intrinsic pleasures, not because all your friends say it's cool. I come from a long line of brown liquor drinkers (some, a little TOO fond of the stuff) with southern/Scots-Irish DNA, which is to say I come by my enjoyment of a bottle of Elmer T. Lee honestly. Could you dweebs do me a favor and latch on to something else? Gin? Ooooh....how about rum??? There's an unexplored beverage that is just now starting to sprout artisanal distillers, plus pirates LOVED IT. And how cool are pirates, am I right??? They even liked beards too! Just like you!!!! Oh...eye patches! You could bring back eye patches too!!! The possibilities are endless! So, let's get on it hipsters! Let's start the rum revolution and leave that bourbon behind!!!!!!! (and Scotch and Irish too...). Do it for the children....ha. Kidding. Do it for me you bastards.
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Headline: "Keira Knightley poses topless to make statement about body image and retouched photos."

Saw the photos, and here's what that unspoken photographic statement of Keira's essentially said (I'm translating for you folks who don't speak the celebrese language long ago created by ancient tribes of Hollywood publicists): "Hey everybody! Look at me! I'm young, rich, white, pretty and skinny! Woo hoo! Suck it, losers!!! Ha ha ha ha ha! Worship me you pathetic fucks!!!!!!!! Gwab morg goff blergh fwomp!!!! (sound of Keira morphing into a demon with camera flash-bulbs for eyes)

That Keira Knightley is one daring woman. To have her professionally made-up, lighted, costumed, and posed visage selectively edited for the best shots out of dozens (if not hundreds) of photos thrown out there into the public domain is an act of heroism, nay, BRAVERY, that really makes Joan of Arc look like a self aggrandizing attention whore by comparison. What we really need to ask ourselves is this...Keira Knightley: great woman? Or greatest woman? I know...I'm torn too...btw, kinda flat chested.  Just sayin'...Zing! See what I did there? Ha ha ha...it's like I don't get it! Right??? (seriously though, smallish boobs is the point I'm trying to get across here)
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Oh, and apparently THIS happened in the UK.  So, a maniac in Wales murders a woman, then eats her face, and then dies after being Tasered by police (for those of you keeping score at home, this is also known as the methamphetamine trifecta). I had no idea the Welsh were such a rowdy lot.
*
Just got an email inquiring if I'd like to rent a private jet. Evidently, a marketing firm has identified me as a player (pronounced "play-ah"). I figure it's only a matter of time before subscription opportunities to the Cristal bottle of the month club come rolling in, and, mixed in my mailbox with the Bed, Bath and Beyond flyers, I start getting service coupons offering to get the oil changed on my Bentley for 15% off.

This was followed by another email, that, no joke,  was an offer for me to rent a yacht. I figure the offers to set me up with a Kardashian must be just right around the corner. The yacht email:

Note: offer states yachts are "friendly, accommodating, and well run." Needless to say, these proclamations are a sure sign of quality, as most of us are just plain sick and tired of the unfriendly, un-accomodating, and highly disorganized floating luxury deathtraps we've become accustomed to. Thank god. Then again, the fact my last yacht crew was a bunch of Somali's should have been the first clue I had erred in judgment with my choice in yacht rentals.

#‎baller‬

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Here's an article about "Lumbersexuals".  The article refers to them as "rugged hipsters."
http://www.cbc.ca/newsblogs/yourcommunity/2014/11/lumbersexual-trend-thrusts-rugged-hipsters-into-mens-fashion-spotlight.html

Ahem. "Rugged hipsters"? I don't know where to even begin...but fear not, for begin, I shall. Rugged is to hipster as dental hygiene is to meth addict. Sure, it's theoretically possible, but probably something that could only exist for a millionth of a second in a highly controlled environment at Lawrence Livermore Labs...like an isotope of element 115 (aka ununpentium...look it up...nerd humor). Anyways, can we just either a) make it stop with the bearded buffoon brigade (the bbb's) and their many lame ass (lame assed?) iterations (monocle man, handlebar mustache man, fixie man, craft beer man, insanely expensive limited release whiskey man, bacon man, etc) and just round them up and force them to live electrically fenced inside an elitist, green, micro-farming, pet friendly, GMO free, all natural deodorant, flannel lined gulag, and just call it New Portland? They'd be happy to live there, never notice they were imprisoned, and can all bore each other to death with hysterically un-funny, droll tales full of whimsy of their times in grad school when they grew their own hops for their home brew they later shared with their neighbors who didn't get the joke of the hand drawn label of a pirate they put on their bottle and called it PBR (pee bee arrrrrrrrrrrrr!), or, b) have them all shipped to Syria, and let Darwinism work its magic. I know. Option "b" sounds a little risky, because it could end up with wave after wave of jihadists coming back to our shores armed with skinny jean IED's, hemp grenades, IPA launchers, and ironic musical death beams blasting out Journey (even though these jihadists will secretly cringe a little with self doubt because they're not sure everybody GET'S IT, and they almost feel the need to start babbling on about their love of Leonard Cohen to reestablish their hipster, jihadist cred. This is when they will be most vulnerable, and when we rush in and cut up their Visa card that is paid off monthly by their parents who co-signed for them, thus rendering them defenseless and soon kicked out of their apartments in Brooklyn for overdue back-rent, and now at our mercy) from the speakers of the most ironic of hipster cars: the 1969 Citroen DS..............
I'm not going to lie, I seem to have gone off on a foaming at the mouth tangent, and I totally forgot what my point was...but I think it has something to do with my unresolved anger at 23 year olds who just 2 years ago were drinking Bud Light Lime-A-Rita's and are now pre-ordering by the case the 2014 release of 18 year old Sazerac Rye (for example) to the point where I cannot get my hands on a bottle even through special order. I also suspect they don't even like it, and take it home and mix it with Dr. Pepper. Hopefully, someday soon, they'll go back to secretly drinking their girlfriends Cosmo's and doing Jåger bombs, and come out of the closet for their love of all things Bon Jovi, and not Bon Iver.
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By the way, When Snoop Dogg uses words like "shizzle", "nizzle", and "izzle kizzle", everybody thinks he's using slang, or some sort of self created street lingo. Personally, I just think he's quoting from the lesser known books of Dr. Seuss.
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There's been a dangerous lack of celebrity opinions and comments about the recent events that have occurred this week, unbelievably, right before Thanksgiving. This is a time when Americans are supposed to be coming together, giving thanks and celebrating our shared values, and not fighting amongst ourselves.  I feel so lost. How am I supposed to know how to feel, and how to think, and what to think, if a celebrity won't tell me what's appropriate? Come you egomaniacal, narcissistic, vapid and vain visages of the screen big and small...to the Twitterverse and spill it! I cannot wait to hear how this has affected you, nay, haunted you, as you sip a $300 dollar Pinot in your Malibu fortress and contemplate what's right and just for the hoi polloi. Do it! Stop staring at the screen and just hit send! I breathlessly await, trembling with anticipation, all atingle, for you to free me from my mental vapor lock, not knowing how to process all this stimuli with my little, underdeveloped, non-red carpet brain. Your sage words learned from a rich and diverse, deeply salt of the earth life, full of meaningful experience gained through $2000 prostitutes and cocaine fueled parties, will fill my head with wonder and new understanding of my existence as it relates to my fellow man and woman, and I will finally, blissfully know, through your wisdom.......................whether these post-Thanksgiving Black Friday sales are worth the hassle or not.

2014: RIP Hipster Culture

The destruction of hipster culture by corporate America is almost complete: a car ad featuring a bearded 28-30 year old with ironic handlebar mustache, desert boots and a vintage blazer (yes, I own some of those clothing items myself, but let's stay on point here). When Toyota America and KFC start identifying you as a target demographic, your days as the underdog, rebel, and counter culture icon are pretty much over. Sorry, but you've been officially assimilated by The Borg, and resistance is futile. Welcome to adulthood. So, what do you have to look forward to, hipsters? Nothing...for about 15 years...and then you'll notice golf, e.d. drugs, and Cadillacs will start being marketed to you. It should be fun. I can see it now: a bearded, skinny jean wearing man with salt and pepper hair, staring lovingly at his wife as she sits at a pottery wheel (it's either a pottery wheel or "his 'n hers" outdoor tubs on an island beach somewhere) when a voice over begins "You just never know when the moment is right, but when it is..." and Bon Iver plays quietly in the background...

So, enjoy your last frosty PBR, as your days going forward will be filled with looking in the rearview mirror and wondering where all your "edginess" went (answer: it left with your 20's...nobody wants an edgy 30 or 40-something. "Edgy" makes for shitty employees and unreliable romantic partners. Upside? You'll have a few dollars in your pocket now so you can drink something OTHER than PBR, AND afford to treat your partner to some cuisine other than something served from a truck parked outside your favorite ironic dive bar).

KFC, beards, baby corn and facial hair

Was discussing pet peeves with somebody, and I realized I have another: beards. Thought I'd repost a short rant on the subject.

Beards:
Tuesday, April 23rd, 1441 hours Pacific Time...the date and time beards officially jumped the shark.* This was made apparent as I just saw a KFC commercial with bespectacled, 30-something "hipsters" all sporting beards as they wolfed down their chicken. By the time corporate America gets on board, it's never a good sign for the "cutting edge" crowd. RIP ironic facial hair.

*Yes, yes...I know. The term "jumped the shark" jumped the shark on Friday, October 28, 2009. I just haven't found a suitable replacement.

Also, it turns out that "baby corn" is just that...baby corn. Who the fuck knew?**

** Obviously, not me. I figured it was just this weird little vegetable that looked like a "baby corn." Kind of like how Michele Bachman LOOKS like a human being, but isn't.***

***She's actually a replicant constructed from polycarbonate, the blood of the innocent, and Republican sexual fantasies.

Poseurs, eyeglasses, and Tarantino

I realize this is a blog, and I should probably be posting things from time to time.  However, I have been working on a song, and I've been frustratingly "blocked", and cannot seem to get anywhere with it...but I've been obsessively plodding away with it anyways...and getting nowhere.  So, I'm going to step away, and waste a little time here.  Let's talk about eye glasses, shall we?  In order to illustrate a point, here's a picture of me from last night out at the movies (saw Django...here's worlds shortest review: good film.  About 30 minutes too long, though.  Christoph Waltz, once again just like Inglorious Basterds, steals every scene he is in.  Not a DiCaprio fan, but he did a nice job here.  If you like QT, go see it):




Ok.  So, glasses (heretofore referred to as "eye glasses").  As you can see above, I wear them.  Want to know why I wear them?  Because I cannot read ANYTHING without them...especially itty, bitty, teeny, weeny, Lilliputian sized texts (i.e. the way I do 99% of my non-physical presence communicating).  Let me be clear: glasses suck.  You lose them, break them (for reasons I cannot comprehend, they are hellaciously expensive.  Apparently mine are made of an unusual form of rarium, hardtofindum, and unobtanium laminated with platinum.  At least, based on the price.  It would certainly seem as if they've been made with something other than plastic), leave them somewhere around the house and are constantly having to find them in order to read a text, magazine, subtitles in a movie, etc.  They can give you sinus pressure, headaches, and despite what popular culture seems to hint at, not really all that sexy.  "Ooooh...know what turns me on?  Poor eyesight!!!"  I can honestly say I've never heard those words.  But, because I like to be able to see clearly, I reluctantly wear them.  What I DO NOT understand, is the sudden explosion of younger college aged people sporting glasses.  The numbers are waaaaaaay too skewed to be an actual representation of the population of people with eyesight issues.  This leads us to only two conclusions: 1) not only is the sedentary, high calorie American lifestyle causing obesity and Type II diabetes, it's also, inexplicably, destroying our eyesight.  Apparently, there's something in the special sauce on a Big Mac that causes macular degeneration.  I think a government study is needed, or 2) there's a TON of 20-somethings who, for reasons that completely escape me, have decided wearing glasses is, ahem, "cool", and are needlessly running around with unnecessary headgear.  My thought on the matter?  Why stop there?  If physical imperfections are so awesome, why not fake a club foot and wear orthopedic shoes, or a hook for a hand, or utilize one of those Stephen Hawking voice synthesizers (ok, that WOULD be kinda cool...)?  My point?  My point is this: I really don't get why anybody, who DIDN'T HAVE TO , would wear a physically corrective device.  Trust me, anybody who HAS TO to wear glasses wishes they DIDN'T HAVE TO (scary eye surgery or even bigger pain in the ass contacts aside), and CANNOT UNDERSTAND WHY anybody who DID NOT HAVE TO...WOULD...JUST FOR FUN.  It seems...well, STUPID.  

Ok.  Rant over.  Thanks for indulging me.  Back to the song.     

Icons

You can TRY and be this cool. However, you will FAIL.

Addendum

One more (see previous blog).  Food blogs.  These fucking things seem to dominate the blog world. People love to talk about food, photograph food, tell you where to go to get the best Azbekifuckoffistan kebob and baba ganoush.  Who the fuck cares?  Well, apparently a lot of fat fucking food addict Americans and hipsters drawn to obscure, brick wall, exposed pipe basement eateries filled with people wearing bowling shoes and Trilby hats who have never bowled or been to England (i.e. where the Trilby was invented, and, for that matter, where the likes of Paul Weller and The Jam made wearing bowling shoes cool).  Point is, it's food.  Get over it you pretentious assholes.  There's lots of good food out there, and it doesn't have to be obscure or hard to find to be good.  Hell, if I'm hungry enough, a PB&J sandwich with a cold glass of milk is almost enough to make me spontaneously orgasm.  No brick wall and exposed pipes needed ("exposed pipes"...there has GOT to be a dick joke there SOMEWHERE).  Anyways, if I never see another photo of some fucking alien looking Asian dish like this:



with somebody explaining "Duck pancreas with almonds and sea urchin eggs!  Sooooooo goooood!!!", I'm sure I'll still be able to live a happy and fulfilling life.

Random Bitch Session

RANDOM BITCH SESSION (sometimes pictures add a little spice to the diatribe to follow)


 Quick rants:

-if you're at the gym, and you look like you're hiding a children's wading pool under your belt, good for you. I'm all for self improvement. However, if you're hoarding the leg press machine all to yourself for forty-five minutes, your efforts are misplaced. Also, you're a selfish fuckwad. The 50 pounds extra of gelatinous goo you're carrying is not really being addressed by your pumping the quads. You may want to think cardio...and let somebody else use the machine. It's not a plate of nachos. You can share.

 -unfortunately, I live in the conservative capitol of the cosmos. And the gym mentioned above is all FauxFox News, all the time. So, being subjected to this Goebbels like propaganda somewhat against my will, I have a question: when in the fuck is Rush Limbaugh going to do us a favor and have that massive myocardial infarction we're all waiting for? The guy is seriously angry/stressed/hypertensive, fat and a drug addict. I mean, it's the holy trinity of imminent heart explosion. And yet, there he is, like a rolly-polly Fascist Santa Claus yammering away about...I dunno...I really wasn't listening. Something about Obama sodomizing a goat while reading the Koran to jihadists and threatening to make Medicare solvent? Anyways, the way he was sweating and spitting, I thought to myself, "Oh, fuck yes, this guy is going to full on aneurism (or heart attack...whatever. I'm good either way) right here on tv and I'm going to get to see it. Holy shit..am I getting a boner? I think I am! Come on Rush...let's see that aorta burst you goose stepping fuck!!!!" Needless to say, he didn't, so the boner never really materialized. Still...one can dream.

 -I'm sick of reading blogs about people and their artsy craftsy shit. I'm glad you made a hat pin out of some cellophane and bottle tops..but...yawn. 'Ya know? Entertain me. Be provocative. Nobody's on the internet for Martha Stewart. We want Two Girls One Cup (confession: I've never seen it and really have no desire to...just seemed like an obvious reference to make my point), Fail videos, porn, Fry memes, sports scores, and helpful hints on local eateries and watering holes (I realize "eatery" and "watering hole" also sound like porn, but I wasn't trying to be funny...just came out that way. Ha! I said "came". It's like I'm the Nipsy Russell (look him up) of the keyboard). So, um, yeah...if you're going to blog...don't suck.

-hipsters. Yeah. I've had it with them. I've been accused of harboring a bit of hipster within, and I suppose anybody who plays musical instruments and writes/records music is probably guilty of this to a point. But...come on. Enough with the beards. I've never seen so many (apparently) aspiring Forest Service Personnel...or Fleetwood Mac holdovers from the 70's.  Also, your choice of music, the bands nobody has ever heard of and I suspect, deep down, even you hipster guys/gals don't even actually REMOTELY ENJOY. Just because they incorporate a glockenspiel, banjo, and Sousaphone into the song doesn't make it GOOD...it makes it (usually) stupid and/or silly. Quit trying so hard. Cheap beer tastes like shit, vintage clothing generally has a hint of B.O. perma bonded to it you can never really get rid of, and WHAT THE FUCK IS WITH WEARING A WOOL BEANIE IN 95 DEGREE WEATHER YOU RETARD??? I could go on, but you all know what I'm talking about...and if you are one...knock it off and find your true self through some form of expression other than expressing your individuality by dressing like, and listening to the same music, as EVERYBODY within your peer/social circle. Expand your horizons. Trust me, it's OK to admit Session Lager (kinda my fave) tastes better than PBR (note: I have drank many a PBR in my day, but not because it was "cool" and "ironic", but because it was CHEAP and I was POOR. If this is your situation, then by all means, enjoy). When you can admit your obsession to strictly adhering to all things your peers and the local hipster neighborhood you live in have pre-determined as cool has, in fact, turned you into a narrow minded, myopic, douche bag...then the healing can truly begin.

 -Willtard Willard Shit Mitt Robme Romney...this guy strikes me as a serious sociopath. If they find some sort of weird sex/torture dungeon underneath his garage full of Cadillacs (perhaps this is why he's remodeling his La Jolla home?) I will not be surprised. That, and I secretly suspect despite his magic underwear-planet-inheriting-misogynistic Mormon belief system, the guy probably enjoys about 15 cups of coffee a day. I mean, this guy is wound so tight, is so manic, he practically vibrates.  I think he could weld a breach in a ships hull with the crazy beams firing out of his eyes. The fact that close to 50% of this country may wind up voting for him is not only sad frightening, but a pretty good indication that the end of the Pax Americana is near.

-I had more...but I ran out of steam as I realized I really could go for some cookies right about now, and lost my train of thought (again...adult ADD?  Perhaps...). So...cheers and all that.