Archive for the 'Some Shit About US' Category

Some shit about the new Star Wars flick…


One thing I found really intriguing about the new Star Wars flick—other than the aggressively visceral and ‘tactile’ nature of it (which took me a minute to adjust to; “You mean ta tell me that’s ‘real’ dirt they’re walking on?!”)—was how it was a winking ‘meta’ remix of the original trilogy; much in the same way “Super 8” (another Abram’s flick) was a ‘meta’ remix of early Spielberg. In that film the wink-and-a’nod came via the group of ‘inspired’ young filmmakers and their monster movie within a monster movie; in “The Force Awakens” it’s Kylo Ren being a whiny surrogate for the ‘whiny’ fanboys who have—over the last decade and some change—incessantly (and maybe rightfully) bitched about the Lucas-helmed prequels1 not being ‘like’ the films that comprised the original trilogy. Kylo wants to be Vader2 just as much as the fanboys wanted the prequels to have invoked the spirit of episodes IV-VI.

In a way this ‘Kylo’s Planet Rock to Vader’s Trans-Europe Express‘ dynamic ‘excuses’ the film’s liberal sampling, as a Vader analog would NO DOUBT have similar intentions, wear similar garb, don a similar helmet and have a similar super weapon at his disposal, as well as inspire a similar response to his actions. What’s really hip about this is how—for new fans—it acts as a kind of ‘if you like this you’re gonna LOVE the first three’ greatest-hits introduction to the franchise. Gets ’em excited and eagerly anticipating—not just the next ‘new’ one (which will likely present a ‘more unique’ story), but the original trilogy as well3.

Continue reading ‘Some shit about the new Star Wars flick…’

A Fag, a Nigger and a Spic walk into a trap…

An ‘offensive‘ joke that references race, religion, sexuality or any other ‘sensitive’ subject matter is like a fragrant, impossible-to-resist hunk of cheese that attracts identity fetishists; brings them out into the light and then SMACK!!! traps ’em. Now we can all gawk at ’em; see just who among us is ADDICTED to their superficial identities; see who is fighting tooth-an’-nail to keep their heads above the surface; the ones afraid to dip below to that unifying regardless-of-‘who’-you-THINK-you-are-love-is-love-and-fear-is-fear place. That ‘bloody truth’ that comedians trade in.

The great thing about a (good) ‘offensive’ joke (not talkin’ about that hacky “look at me saying ‘nigger’ without any context just for a cheap, unfunny thrill” shit; there’s nothing ‘edgey’ about doing jokes about rape or other so-called taboo subjects when you are far removed from the source of the joke) is how it exposes the diversity of our fakeness. Some comics avoid mining this territory for fear that the butt of their jokes may publically object, and—given the vociferousness/notoriety/level of ‘victimhood’ of the objector—could result in the comic being labeled (read: ceremoniously ‘branded’) a Racist™, Sexist™, Homophobe™, etc.

But you know what?

Continue reading ‘A Fag, a Nigger and a Spic walk into a trap…’

Is human existence nothing but a protracted suicide?


When it comes to the Gun Control Debate™ I can’t really pick a side. Like most ‘divisive’ issues I can see it both ways so getting mired in a tedious back-and-forth is of little interest to me, but what I find VERY interesting is the gun’s origin story: ‘why’ do they even exist? I mean seriously, what kind of suicidal-ass creature creates a device that within a near-instant can render a fellow member of its species dead? ESPECIALLY such a prone-to-flying-off-the-handle species?! Why would THAT species create a device that allows it to exact such devastating finality during aggressively temporary, highly emotionally-charged moments? Maybe it is this very nature that’s responsible for its creation. But what is ‘behind’ this nature? Why is this creature given to such destructive snap judgments? Is it fear? If so, what is it afraid of? Is it something external or internal? Perhaps this creature—hyper aware of the dark, twisted vagaries of its so-called ‘intelligent‘ mind—is deathly afraid of ‘itself.’ After all, this is a species that spends much of its time dreaming up all sorts of terrifying scenarios and then when… BANG! they happen in real-life, these fears become legitimized and it now has ‘justifiable reasons’ to arm itself.

Also, since this is a species saddled with so much crippling self-doubt that it doesn’t ‘believe’ it can EVER change its volatile nature (and since it ironically feels regret and guilt for the destruction this so-called ‘uncontrollable‘ nature causes) perhaps these efficient life-destroyers were created to allow it to ‘detach’ from the ‘barbarism’ of killing (read: bullshit itself into feeling ‘relatively’ innocent). Instead of bashing a fellow human’s skull in it can just pull a trigger, dispatch a drone, drop a bomb, fire a missile. It’s much ‘cleaner.’


I wonder if it’s ‘for real’ now; if it’s moved on from its ‘angsty teenager crying for help’ phase and is now serious about this wiping itself from the face of the globe thing. I mean just look at how blisteringly fast its new-fangled death instruments can destroy vast swaths of its peers?! Maybe it’s ‘really’ gonna do it this time. Maybe it’s had enough of prolonging the seemingly inevitable. Maybe it’s finally ready to put itself out of its existential misery.

“I don’t hate you as much as I hate myself.”


“Please don’t illuminate my wackness by celebrating a lifestyle I desperately wish I could lead. I’m not asking you to be ‘really’ humble, I just need you to fake it in the media. You know, deadpan some bullshit sports platitudes. The pundits will call you a Class Act™ and I can invoke your name when I’m trying not to come off as a bitter my-life-is-a-failure-my-kids-don’t-respect-me-and-my-wife-is-fucking-her-25-year-old-personal-trainer jackass. I’ll say shit like, ‘Why can’t the rest of ’em be more like so-and-so?’ Can you please do that for me? I mean just look at me, I’m part of a contingent of straight middle-aged men who wear the family names of much younger men on our backs. If you don’t allow me to assert ‘at least’ a modicum of superiority over you shit could get kinda weird.”

The Death of Football


Given the fact that the technology responsible for keeping players safe cannot keep up with the (sports medicine/cutting-edge training enhanced) genetic engineering that’s turning the players into increasingly deadlier vehicles of mass destruction, it may go the way of one of its (pictured) ancestors.

Not talking any time soon though. Maybe within the next one-hundred years or so……or maybe the hyper physicality of the game will be toned down a bit (or maybe this will become de rigueur). Like tackles would be anticipated by the refs resulting in ridiculously early whistles. Speaking of whistles
Continue reading ‘The Death of Football’

A 2385

I have this dysfunctional love affair with the fulla shit, cognitively dissonant nightmare that is the U.S. of A. The place that shouts to the rest of the world (and itself)…

    “I fucking hate you. Actually, wait, I love you. Nah. I take that back. I just wanna be your friend. I mean no, I only tolerate you. Actually no…”

over and over again every single second of every single day. And we CELEBRATE this shit! We’re PROUD of this shit! It’s our NATIONAL FUCKING IDENTITY???!!! Funny how we have all these requirements for citizenship, but really, the only thing you need to get on well here is an ability to deal with this maniacal bullshit. No matter how many tests you pass or how much loyalty you pledge, if you can’t fuck with this it’s gonna be an uphill battle. Just ask these folks. Luckily they learned relatively quickly how to deal with the bullshit. They even added some of their own to the mix.

Wanna become a social media demigod? All you gotta do is find yourself a boogeyman and RELENTLESSLY dig into ’em every damn day. If you’re unsure of who ‘your’ boogeyman is, just scroll your feed/timeline, or flip through a few channels on the tube. Whoever JUMPS out at you—like whoever you just can’t fucking stand on-sight—that’s your boogeyman! And you don’t even have to work that hard to create material about ’em, the shit will just pour outta you because they’re usually attached to some real, very painful life experiences (or an intense fear, or just annoying). Well, not them EXPLICITLY, the experience had nothing to do with them. They just ‘look’ like the person or people who facilitated your negative experience, and thus becomes ‘representative’ of them.

Representatives are dope; they give us an easily discernible target to train our focus on—the formlessness of what underpinned the experiences is too difficult for us to get a satisfying grasp on; we need ‘something’ to go after with our vitriol and/or whatever latest-craze boogeyman-destroyer we’ve dreamt up. In a sense, we appropriate the ‘demonic’ spirit (aka the nebulous and universal drive to inflict pain/punish) to destroy it. Shit’s diabolically ironic.