So I went home for the holidays yesterday. Flew. Had a connecting flight in D.C. - Ronald Reagan International Airport (ugh...).
Anyway my Dad picked me up at LaGuardia, the airport in N.Y. We're driving home in some pretty heavy traffic. I don't need to remind you it's two days before Christmas.
So we're in the right lane somewhere in N.Y., trying to make our way to the left lane. Next to us, to our left, is a big, ugly dump truck of some sort. It's trying to make its way to the right lane. So my Dad speeds up a bit, and moves to the left, allowing the truck to move to the right behind him. Seemed legit, if a tad bit aggressive. Happens all the time, right?
Well I'm in the front passenger seat of the sedan. I turn and look at the dump truck. I barely catch a glimpse of the driver; he looked like you would suspect a N.Y. dump truck driver to look like. Rugged. Ugly. Anyway I look up, we make brief eye contact. And he spits.
Like, right at me. The wind carries it backward, and it lands on the back passenger side window. One big loogie and a few streaks of mucus just plastered there on the window.
As N.Y. Post columnist Cindi Adams would say: Only in New York, kids, Only in New York.
My Dad didn't even notice, so I pointed it out to him. The rest of the ride home, he'd let everyone cut in front of him.
"Don't want to get spit on again," he'd say.
I kind of wanted to fight that truck driver, like maybe one punch with a roll of quarters, or something even more vicious. But in the end, I had to laugh. What a welcome home!
Now it's like 5 a.m. and I'm up for no conceivable reason. And it's snowing.
Happppppy holidays.
Wednesday, December 24, 2008
Wednesday, December 17, 2008
On graduation, or...
...Why I don't have successful chit-chat
As most readers of this blog already know (I salute you, loyal readers!) I recently graduated from the University of South Carolina.
Some have begun to ask me, "What's it like?" or "How do you feel?"
I usually answer: "Weird," "Interesting," "Scary" or "I don't know" - then sort-of stare at the person as I ponder my future and they generally get creeped out.
While all those answers are basically true (the last being the closest) I think the picture has started to become clearer.
What's it like to graduate?
It's confusing. It's lonely. It's disorienting. In it's infinite freedom it feels shockingly constricting. With the options full and vast, the lack of small choices and a set purpose is like the floor dropping out from underneath you and the walls moving away yet you cannot move. You don't fall when the floor moves away, you're merely suspended there, with guilt and fear that maybe you should fall, or that you can at any moment.
I think when I came to college there was some unconscious feeling that I would begin to be defined by my time there and that, at the End, that far away thing, there would be something tangible. Not a degree or a job but a tangible person, an identity and maybe even a direction.
I'm sure that over the years I've ruled out a few things; I've come to know I am not this type of person or I'm not going to be interested in this or that. But I don't know that I've been able to, in a sense, learn enough about myself to get an idea of who I'm going to be. That to look ahead to the next 15 years and where I'll be is to look back at the past 4 years and where they've gone. You begin to wonder if artificially significant events like a graduation will be a turning point, just like the artificially significant event of going off to college. School is that weird time where you spend all your time accomplishing things so that you can accomplish more things in the future. And a recent graduation affords you the ability to be suspended in time between your old life as a youngster and your new life as an adult. There's an inherent inconsonance there.
I think it's why my instinct is to run back to school. The safe place; the place I've known since I began knowing.
It's a weird, interesting and scary time.
(And imagine if I hoisted all of this self-absorbed existential nonsense on an innocent passer-by?)
As most readers of this blog already know (I salute you, loyal readers!) I recently graduated from the University of South Carolina.
Some have begun to ask me, "What's it like?" or "How do you feel?"
I usually answer: "Weird," "Interesting," "Scary" or "I don't know" - then sort-of stare at the person as I ponder my future and they generally get creeped out.
While all those answers are basically true (the last being the closest) I think the picture has started to become clearer.
What's it like to graduate?
It's confusing. It's lonely. It's disorienting. In it's infinite freedom it feels shockingly constricting. With the options full and vast, the lack of small choices and a set purpose is like the floor dropping out from underneath you and the walls moving away yet you cannot move. You don't fall when the floor moves away, you're merely suspended there, with guilt and fear that maybe you should fall, or that you can at any moment.
I think when I came to college there was some unconscious feeling that I would begin to be defined by my time there and that, at the End, that far away thing, there would be something tangible. Not a degree or a job but a tangible person, an identity and maybe even a direction.
I'm sure that over the years I've ruled out a few things; I've come to know I am not this type of person or I'm not going to be interested in this or that. But I don't know that I've been able to, in a sense, learn enough about myself to get an idea of who I'm going to be. That to look ahead to the next 15 years and where I'll be is to look back at the past 4 years and where they've gone. You begin to wonder if artificially significant events like a graduation will be a turning point, just like the artificially significant event of going off to college. School is that weird time where you spend all your time accomplishing things so that you can accomplish more things in the future. And a recent graduation affords you the ability to be suspended in time between your old life as a youngster and your new life as an adult. There's an inherent inconsonance there.
I think it's why my instinct is to run back to school. The safe place; the place I've known since I began knowing.
It's a weird, interesting and scary time.
(And imagine if I hoisted all of this self-absorbed existential nonsense on an innocent passer-by?)
Saturday, December 13, 2008
Sounds of the city
As I've mentioned before, I have a bit of a hearing problem. By that I mean, when I went to get my hearing tested about two years ago, the reaction was basically: Holy fuck you can't hear, I'd look into hearing aids.
To which I said, "Hell, no; I'm 20 years old, I'm not getting a hearing aid like some goddamn old person."
So I soldier on.
Anyway I bring that up to tell you a quick story. For a long while, when I was stuck at a red light or cruising through Columbia I would always hear this rhythmic sound, like someone ritualistically banging on a cowbell, but more forceful, and with impeccable timing. Over and over I'd hear this sound, having no idea what it was, or where it came from.
Like many confused souls, I made up my own conclusion. I thought it had something to do with construction. There is always something being constructed in Columbia, so I thought this was like some cement mixer or some way to break down concrete that I don't even know about. I almost was at the point where I was going to accost a construction worker and ask him what the hell that noise was.
Then I figured it out. It's the Walk/Don't Walk things on the side of the streets. They go off when you're supposed to walk, or when you're not supposed to walk, I'm not sure which. It's for blind people, I assume. For years I had no idea. And then one day, not too long ago, I just figured it out somehow. Maybe it was a "good" hearing day (I have those). Now that I know the origin, it is so shockingly obvious that I'm quite embarrassed.
It's like the time I finally put together that George Rogers Blvd. is named after George Rogers (although there was no disability excuse for that, unless you count obliviousness).
And I'm worried, too. How many other sounds do I hear that I completely misplace? I know I can't hear when people talk, sometimes. Most of my friends know about this, and gently chide me about it. But how many other noises out there have I completely mistook for something else? It's scary. Makes me want to get a hearing aid.
Not going to do that, though.
To which I said, "Hell, no; I'm 20 years old, I'm not getting a hearing aid like some goddamn old person."
So I soldier on.
Anyway I bring that up to tell you a quick story. For a long while, when I was stuck at a red light or cruising through Columbia I would always hear this rhythmic sound, like someone ritualistically banging on a cowbell, but more forceful, and with impeccable timing. Over and over I'd hear this sound, having no idea what it was, or where it came from.
Like many confused souls, I made up my own conclusion. I thought it had something to do with construction. There is always something being constructed in Columbia, so I thought this was like some cement mixer or some way to break down concrete that I don't even know about. I almost was at the point where I was going to accost a construction worker and ask him what the hell that noise was.
Then I figured it out. It's the Walk/Don't Walk things on the side of the streets. They go off when you're supposed to walk, or when you're not supposed to walk, I'm not sure which. It's for blind people, I assume. For years I had no idea. And then one day, not too long ago, I just figured it out somehow. Maybe it was a "good" hearing day (I have those). Now that I know the origin, it is so shockingly obvious that I'm quite embarrassed.
It's like the time I finally put together that George Rogers Blvd. is named after George Rogers (although there was no disability excuse for that, unless you count obliviousness).
And I'm worried, too. How many other sounds do I hear that I completely misplace? I know I can't hear when people talk, sometimes. Most of my friends know about this, and gently chide me about it. But how many other noises out there have I completely mistook for something else? It's scary. Makes me want to get a hearing aid.
Not going to do that, though.
Bed...Bath...and BEYOND
Today, I went to Bed, Bath & Beyond and I thought I'd describe the experience for you.
The store is located on Garner's Ferry Road, in the Target shopping center (that I'm sure has a name, I'm just not aware of it). Inside is, as you'd expect, full of all your bed and bath needs. I think the Beyond either refers to the Kitchenware section, or the assortment of Hannah Montana trinkets placed near the registers, in an obvious attempt to attract children as they wait in line next to their parents.
The store has an organized structure, although it's not immediately comprehensible. I saw signs for the aforementioned Kitchenware section, which had sub-headings like "utensils" and "cookware." Other signs, however, merely state the products' brand names, which were completely useless to me, and might as well been in French (Perhaps some were, I didn't have a notebook with me to record them). I think my ability to navigate this store in less than a half-hour bodes well for when I travel overseas.
The store is also quite cleverly designed. The high ceiling allows products to be stacked and hung well above eye-level, anywhere from 15-20 feet, which for most non-NBA players is unreachable. They also flood the aisles with little product booths. So as you walk around with your head cocked upward, you bump into these things, and apparently the effect is supposed to be one of, "Oh, look what I just bumped into, maybe I should purchase this item." I am happy to report the tactic was ineffective on me.
My purpose
I'm not really an impulse buyer, save the occasional pack of gum or peanut M&M's. So my trip to BB&B had three clear purchases in mind:
1. Lint Roller - I washed a pair of khakis with some new towels, and dried them together, so my pants had a thin layer of purple lint plastered on them.* Thus, a lint roller. And to preempt the questions, yes, I bought a purple towel, and yes, it is pretty bad-ass.
2. Dryer Balls - I'm never satisfied after I do a load of laundry. Always, the pants are too wrinkled, the shirts get messed up a bit, and just overall the dryer sheets I use don't reduce static cling enough for my liking. These Dryer Max Dryer Balls got a good write-up in The Gamecock**, and I thought the concept sounded cool. I was horrified when I got them that they had "As Seen on TV" plastered on the packaging, which made me think: scam. As you can see on the site, these are the same ass-holes behind ShamWow and Cash 4 Gold. This is so sad, but I hope they fluff up my laundry a bit, otherwise I'll be so disappointed that I actually bought them. I'm literally crying as I type this.
3. The third item was going to be bed-lifts. My bed is currently just a mattress atop a box spring, and I wanted to get that sucker off the ground. I was assured by my mother, who reads this blog so infrequently as to cause mental distress, that I could find some lifting device at BB&B. I did, but they were for beds that already had a bed frame, so: useless. But I did notice a large assortment of loofahs, and I remembered I wanted/needed one, so that became my third item.
People in BB&B
Around 90% of the items in BB&B can be picked up and/or smelled. The practical result of this is that everyone around the store is either handling or checking the odor of the thing they may buy. All around the store, everyone sniffing, smelling, touching, squeezing.
The men in the store look as clueless as I was. Only when they are on their cell phone, presumably with the wife, or maybe the wife's good friend, do their expressions turn from exasperation to a stern, quizzical look, as if they're solving a crime. One guy on his cell phone looked very serious. A little while later, I saw him and his son on the massage chairs (Beyond!), and he seemed very amused (can I say it was sexual, almost? Too creepy?).
The women are on another level, a higher mission, and one I'll never understand enough to write about here.
How it went
It's semi-difficult to find someone who works at BB&B while you're there, but not too bad. Once I did find a guy, he was very friendly. He took me right to the dryer balls, and even handed them to me. I can't imagine, though, being able to sleep at night knowing exactly where the dryer balls are. I think I'd rather not know.
Of course, this was after about four laps of the store, and I took about two or three more by the time I left. The last two laps I spent considering the different colors of the loofahs offered. I'm pretty sure they were all meant for women, so I had to pick the least womanly of them, for my mental health (which is, as you may have guessed, quite unstable). I can't just mosey up to the register with a pink loofah. I'd have a convulsion.
For the lint rollers, at first I had a three-pack that would have cost me $10, because it looked like the only one being offered. This was about two and two-thirds more lint rolls than I needed. Luckily, on the next lap (or was it two laps later?) I found the lint roller section, which was about three feet wide and twenty feet high. The Giant Roller was out of reach (I assume they'll see sales of these at all-time lows. I'm pretty tall and couldn't touch them with my hand). I bypassed the rollers that had pictures of dogs, etc., on them, and eventually settled on AMERICA'S #1 SELLING LINT ROLLER, the ALL-in-One, 50% STICKIER dry cleaner grade tape, evercare PROFESSIONAL LINT ROLLER, good for Clothes, Pets, Home and Auto. I'm staying true to the capitalization of the packaging for your benefit. It worked fine on the khakis. $3.99.
The register
Once I got to the register, or in line for the register, I felt like you must feel now: Thank God, is this thing almost over? So I stood in line and the lady in front turns and says, "Would you like some coupons? They never expire." I said Sure. "How many things do you have, three? Here's three coupons." They were each for 20% off, which meant savings of:
1. Loofah, or mesh sponge, $2.99 reduced $0.60 to $2.39
2. Lint Roller, $3.99 reduced $0.80 to $3.19
3. Dryer Balls, $9.99 reduced $2.00 to $7.99
That's a grand total of $3.40 of savings. Yes, I do feel like these coupons were wasted on me, but that's at least one drink at the bar I saved, so I'm not complaining.
The lady also asked the woman behind me if she'd like some coupons. This lady in front of me had an army of coupons. As I waited, I read them, and they did have an expiration date, but apparently that is ignored. The woman behind me said, I do have coupons, can you use more than one? "You can use up to five per person per visit," coupon lady said, as if trained. I have no idea where she got this information.*** Thank you so much! the woman behind me said, in that false cheery voice adult women like to use. The woman behind me had a daughter who was just precious. She kept asking, can I have just a couple of those candies from that box? Just a couple? And the woman was like, yeah, uh, no it's almost lunch time. Which spawned this note to self: Give my kid come candy if she wants it, dammit. Too cute. At least she ignored the Hannah Montana coffee mug/calendar or whatever it was. Anyway...
The woman working the register deserves a raise. She was working her ass off. Sorry for the wait, she said; I had waited like a minute or two at most. Plus I got coupons out of it, so really, no big deal. I swear if you told me this woman had four arms I wouldn't argue with you.
So that's that. No real big conclusions drawn here. The music playing in the background was Christmas music, which I don't enjoy. I remember hearing "It's the Most Wonderful Time of the Year," and thinking, uh, yeah right. But the coupon lady, and the lady behind me, and the guy who helped me, none gave me a reason to think otherwise. So, maybe it is.****
EXTRA STUFF YOU REALLY CAN SKIP IF I'VE ALREADY BORED YOU ENOUGH:
*Only of interest to those who have a grammar fetish. Why can't a single pair of pants be singular? Am I wrong that it's plural? It's weird: Take that pair of pants and put it/them on. I don't know. And I get paid to know this shit.
**Not sarcastic, really. Seriously. OK, a little.
***Rumor going around the office: BB&B coupons will expire, starting Jan. 1. Apparently this is news, and quite startling news at that. I didn't have the heart to tell the lady, though, 'cuz she clearly thought she was on top of that shit.
****It may be, if you discount the floundering economy, and the effect that will have on holiday suicides, which already is like the most popular time to off yourself. Happy holidays :)
UPDATE: As I'm not a prolific shopper, I was out of the loop on this. But apparently, two things: BB&B is common shorthand for the store (I thought I was being somewhat original). And they are legendary for giving out a hell of a lot of coupons, so that lady wasn't too out of the ordinary to have so many.
The store is located on Garner's Ferry Road, in the Target shopping center (that I'm sure has a name, I'm just not aware of it). Inside is, as you'd expect, full of all your bed and bath needs. I think the Beyond either refers to the Kitchenware section, or the assortment of Hannah Montana trinkets placed near the registers, in an obvious attempt to attract children as they wait in line next to their parents.
The store has an organized structure, although it's not immediately comprehensible. I saw signs for the aforementioned Kitchenware section, which had sub-headings like "utensils" and "cookware." Other signs, however, merely state the products' brand names, which were completely useless to me, and might as well been in French (Perhaps some were, I didn't have a notebook with me to record them). I think my ability to navigate this store in less than a half-hour bodes well for when I travel overseas.
The store is also quite cleverly designed. The high ceiling allows products to be stacked and hung well above eye-level, anywhere from 15-20 feet, which for most non-NBA players is unreachable. They also flood the aisles with little product booths. So as you walk around with your head cocked upward, you bump into these things, and apparently the effect is supposed to be one of, "Oh, look what I just bumped into, maybe I should purchase this item." I am happy to report the tactic was ineffective on me.
My purpose
I'm not really an impulse buyer, save the occasional pack of gum or peanut M&M's. So my trip to BB&B had three clear purchases in mind:
1. Lint Roller - I washed a pair of khakis with some new towels, and dried them together, so my pants had a thin layer of purple lint plastered on them.* Thus, a lint roller. And to preempt the questions, yes, I bought a purple towel, and yes, it is pretty bad-ass.
2. Dryer Balls - I'm never satisfied after I do a load of laundry. Always, the pants are too wrinkled, the shirts get messed up a bit, and just overall the dryer sheets I use don't reduce static cling enough for my liking. These Dryer Max Dryer Balls got a good write-up in The Gamecock**, and I thought the concept sounded cool. I was horrified when I got them that they had "As Seen on TV" plastered on the packaging, which made me think: scam. As you can see on the site, these are the same ass-holes behind ShamWow and Cash 4 Gold. This is so sad, but I hope they fluff up my laundry a bit, otherwise I'll be so disappointed that I actually bought them. I'm literally crying as I type this.
3. The third item was going to be bed-lifts. My bed is currently just a mattress atop a box spring, and I wanted to get that sucker off the ground. I was assured by my mother, who reads this blog so infrequently as to cause mental distress, that I could find some lifting device at BB&B. I did, but they were for beds that already had a bed frame, so: useless. But I did notice a large assortment of loofahs, and I remembered I wanted/needed one, so that became my third item.
People in BB&B
Around 90% of the items in BB&B can be picked up and/or smelled. The practical result of this is that everyone around the store is either handling or checking the odor of the thing they may buy. All around the store, everyone sniffing, smelling, touching, squeezing.
The men in the store look as clueless as I was. Only when they are on their cell phone, presumably with the wife, or maybe the wife's good friend, do their expressions turn from exasperation to a stern, quizzical look, as if they're solving a crime. One guy on his cell phone looked very serious. A little while later, I saw him and his son on the massage chairs (Beyond!), and he seemed very amused (can I say it was sexual, almost? Too creepy?).
The women are on another level, a higher mission, and one I'll never understand enough to write about here.
How it went
It's semi-difficult to find someone who works at BB&B while you're there, but not too bad. Once I did find a guy, he was very friendly. He took me right to the dryer balls, and even handed them to me. I can't imagine, though, being able to sleep at night knowing exactly where the dryer balls are. I think I'd rather not know.
Of course, this was after about four laps of the store, and I took about two or three more by the time I left. The last two laps I spent considering the different colors of the loofahs offered. I'm pretty sure they were all meant for women, so I had to pick the least womanly of them, for my mental health (which is, as you may have guessed, quite unstable). I can't just mosey up to the register with a pink loofah. I'd have a convulsion.
For the lint rollers, at first I had a three-pack that would have cost me $10, because it looked like the only one being offered. This was about two and two-thirds more lint rolls than I needed. Luckily, on the next lap (or was it two laps later?) I found the lint roller section, which was about three feet wide and twenty feet high. The Giant Roller was out of reach (I assume they'll see sales of these at all-time lows. I'm pretty tall and couldn't touch them with my hand). I bypassed the rollers that had pictures of dogs, etc., on them, and eventually settled on AMERICA'S #1 SELLING LINT ROLLER, the ALL-in-One, 50% STICKIER dry cleaner grade tape, evercare PROFESSIONAL LINT ROLLER, good for Clothes, Pets, Home and Auto. I'm staying true to the capitalization of the packaging for your benefit. It worked fine on the khakis. $3.99.
The register
Once I got to the register, or in line for the register, I felt like you must feel now: Thank God, is this thing almost over? So I stood in line and the lady in front turns and says, "Would you like some coupons? They never expire." I said Sure. "How many things do you have, three? Here's three coupons." They were each for 20% off, which meant savings of:
1. Loofah, or mesh sponge, $2.99 reduced $0.60 to $2.39
2. Lint Roller, $3.99 reduced $0.80 to $3.19
3. Dryer Balls, $9.99 reduced $2.00 to $7.99
That's a grand total of $3.40 of savings. Yes, I do feel like these coupons were wasted on me, but that's at least one drink at the bar I saved, so I'm not complaining.
The lady also asked the woman behind me if she'd like some coupons. This lady in front of me had an army of coupons. As I waited, I read them, and they did have an expiration date, but apparently that is ignored. The woman behind me said, I do have coupons, can you use more than one? "You can use up to five per person per visit," coupon lady said, as if trained. I have no idea where she got this information.*** Thank you so much! the woman behind me said, in that false cheery voice adult women like to use. The woman behind me had a daughter who was just precious. She kept asking, can I have just a couple of those candies from that box? Just a couple? And the woman was like, yeah, uh, no it's almost lunch time. Which spawned this note to self: Give my kid come candy if she wants it, dammit. Too cute. At least she ignored the Hannah Montana coffee mug/calendar or whatever it was. Anyway...
The woman working the register deserves a raise. She was working her ass off. Sorry for the wait, she said; I had waited like a minute or two at most. Plus I got coupons out of it, so really, no big deal. I swear if you told me this woman had four arms I wouldn't argue with you.
So that's that. No real big conclusions drawn here. The music playing in the background was Christmas music, which I don't enjoy. I remember hearing "It's the Most Wonderful Time of the Year," and thinking, uh, yeah right. But the coupon lady, and the lady behind me, and the guy who helped me, none gave me a reason to think otherwise. So, maybe it is.****
EXTRA STUFF YOU REALLY CAN SKIP IF I'VE ALREADY BORED YOU ENOUGH:
*Only of interest to those who have a grammar fetish. Why can't a single pair of pants be singular? Am I wrong that it's plural? It's weird: Take that pair of pants and put it/them on. I don't know. And I get paid to know this shit.
**Not sarcastic, really. Seriously. OK, a little.
***Rumor going around the office: BB&B coupons will expire, starting Jan. 1. Apparently this is news, and quite startling news at that. I didn't have the heart to tell the lady, though, 'cuz she clearly thought she was on top of that shit.
****It may be, if you discount the floundering economy, and the effect that will have on holiday suicides, which already is like the most popular time to off yourself. Happy holidays :)
UPDATE: As I'm not a prolific shopper, I was out of the loop on this. But apparently, two things: BB&B is common shorthand for the store (I thought I was being somewhat original). And they are legendary for giving out a hell of a lot of coupons, so that lady wasn't too out of the ordinary to have so many.
Friday, December 12, 2008
Also, new feature
You'll see below each post there is a place for reactions. All you have to do is click one of the four options, then I'll start to get a better idea of what people do/don't like to read on here.
Thanks.
Thanks.
Some things I like that you may not know about
Banksy.
Scroll through his "outdoors" tab. It's awesome. Pretty much the coolest thing ever.
LCD Soundsystem.
I have yet to meet a single person who knows about this band. Everyone keeps trying to get me hooked on local copycats of John Mayer or Yellowcard. No thanks. Here's "All My Friends." I also recommend "North American Scum" and "I'm Losing My Edge." Their new single is "Someone Great."
Troy Patterson.
I posted him on Facebook a couple times I think. Maybe this is a little "inside baseball," but the dude's lead paragraphs are consistently the best I've read anywhere. That he spends his time reviewing horrible TV trash may actually help him in that area. Here's his review of the Tila Tequila show.
Anthony Jeselnik.
Where is this guy? Here's a link to a couple clips from his stand up. He's hilarious!
This list was supposed to have much more but my brain isn't working. So maybe I'll update it later or just make a new post.
Thursday, December 11, 2008
In case of boredom, click links
Some time ago, I was in a class called "Magazine Writing" (I think that's what it was called).
The whole deal was if the shit you wrote was good they'd post it to the Web site, called "Cyberhemia." I'm posting the link because some friends of I Hate... are featured, so you can browse if you'd like.
Two of my essays are up there:
One is on YouTube, and how videos are getting small and grainy, and if there is a possibility of art in such a medium. The theme of the course was "arts and entertainment," which I wasn't thrilled about, but I did my best all things considered.
Another one was on Heath Ledger's death, and the reaction to it. I'm pretty sure I was way off the topic the professor wanted me to write about. But, whatever, I think it stands on its own.
The real reason for this post is that for the final essay we were supposed to "immerse" ourselves in a given topic and write a heavily researched piece on it. I was lucky enough to have gotten the Monterey Pop Festival. I think my professor was a bit of a Hippie back in the day, or at least he's a big liberal.
Anyway I wrote the damn thing in the library and e-mailed it in. I was tired and grumpy and confused and just generally having one of those days. But I thought what I wrote was pretty good: funny, interesting, personal. But I never had a copy on my computer. And the professor never graded me on it or gave me any feedback. I did get an A in the class, though. But the essay I turned in was so downright crazy I wanted to see what he had to say.
OK so, way too much intro, but I thought the stage had to be set. I found the essay going through my e-mail's "Sent mail" folder (for a completely unrelated reason). So I thought I'd post it here for your enjoyment. Read it, if you'd like, and post a comment, please. I've made only two minor edits.
I suppose it could be simple enough. Tell the story of the Monterey International Pop Festival, the three-day 1967 event in San Francisco that introduced future legends like Jimi Hendrix and The Who to widespread American audiences. More than 200,000 people attended the Festival in Monterey, Calif., less than 100 miles down the coast from San Francisco, the Hippie capital of the world. But my concern is that all research and immersion aside, I will still not be able to beat the Festival’s Wikipedia page for tone and accuracy. If I take a straightforward approach, give the who, what, where and why of the event as it has been told in the media, what good will that possibly bring? So indulge me, as I write about the drug-infused “Summer of Love,” because I’m going to take a trip of my own.
How can I tell this story better than someone who was there, at the Festival, or at least alive during that time and can testify to the general air that hung over the country? Because in order to fully understand the Monterey Festival, and its importance, you have to consider the Sixties, the Hippies, the Vietnam War and what they all mean in the 21st century.
I know what I think about those things I’ve just listed. I know what most of the media thinks – they’re of that generation and look back upon the free love age with nostalgia and fondness afforded to them by their cushy jobs and pension plans. But what about Americans at large and American culture? As the Baby Boomers start to retire and their ability to shape the conventional narrative expires, what legacy will they have left?
“Monterey – a celebration of youthful naiveté,” writes Grace Slick, of Jefferson Airplane, one of the headline acts in the Festival. “A last desperate whoop of careless freedom,” before the Draft took the men off to Vietnam, writes Glenys Roberts, an attendee, 40 years later in the (UK) Daily Mail. She credits Janis Joplin as the high point. But by 1970, Janis Joplin was dead. So were Jimi Hendrix and Otis Redding, a soul legend. I’ve never known the hope of the Sixties without knowing that, yeah, drugs are probably bad for you, that people died, that the extreme nature of the era probably led to Nixon, Jimmy Carter and, worst yet, the Reagan Conservative Revolution.
So let’s get the established facts out of the way. The music was undoubtedly incredible. I love listening to the rock from this era. Turbulent times lead to great art. Oddly, the media was much more critical of the music when it came out than they are now. And while some like to set up Monterey as the precursor to Woodstock, or a more pure version untainted by mainstream acceptance, the music for both events was essentially the same. Craig McGregor writes in the Times: “The cruelest paradox of the Woodstock nation is that it has been liberated, primarily, by the black race from which it has borrowed its music, dance, language, style and much of its sense of brotherhood – but that so far it has done little to free those who freed it.” Grace Slick would blame others: “For a couple of years in the late sixties, no matter what was going on in the world, our generation happily assumed that with love and education we could change outdated social systems. One huge thing that we missed, 90% of the population is genetically imbued with sub mediocre reasoning skills. No matter how much you hug them or read to them, there’s no correcting stupid.”
Monterey lives on, most likely, because it was recorded and turned into a documentary by director D.A. Pennebaker. It’s sort-of a cool thing to know about when you’re high and talking about great music. “Yea, man,” one might say, “That’s where Hendrix and The Who and Janis Joplin came to America.” Then you'll look up Jefferson Airplane’s White Rabbit on YouTube and maybe type in “Hendrix Monterey” and call up his performance.
Roberts writes that the Festival “celebrated a genuine new pacifist streak among the young which gathered such momentum that, eight years later, it led to the end of the Vietnam War.” Eight years? Is she really proud of that? Nixon ended the war; do you think he was a crowning achievement of the flower-power movement? She is quick to hedge her fascination with the event – crowing about the dangers of psychedelic drugs as she giddily recalls Timothy Leary telling kids to “turn on, tune in and drop out.” The same crowd that tells me on a near daily basis to apply for internships and work my rear end off so I can get a good job looks back upon their lazy, drug-filled youth with such reverence that the hypocrisy is palpable. We’ve had the fun, they say, we’ve had the craziness, now settle into your pre-packaged, mainstream Main Street existence. And then these same people wonder why we want to hang around the house until we’re 26, or 29, or even later. We’ve largely missed out on the youthful naiveté that you rub in our faces with your superior music and revolution – even one that largely failed.
The supposed “counterculture” that the Hippies thrust upon America is treated with such reverence by the media that I have to be a little suspicious. It seems the Boomers have been writing the rules for a long time now. Newsweek said it best, when it marked the 40th anniversary of the Summer of Love: “The fact is, we're paying a lot more attention to those long-ago months now than we did back then, when they were actually happening… The boomer nostalgia machinery has been running full tilt.” The article goes on to say that it’s difficult to impose coherence on an inherently unruly time. I, for one, am still quite confused how to process it all. And in the meantime, I’ll have my own youthful college rebellion.
I’m rambling now. I haven’t had much sleep. I procrastinated, but I always do that. This may not make much sense. I may not get the grade I want. I know I’m not supposed to discuss grades in a paper, I don’t think, but this is going to be graded, so why not address it? I’ve used too many questions. But that’s all I can come up with. I know I could have done this straightforward, quoted the thirty or so articles I’ve read, and done a good job. But it would have been something that someone else could have done much better. I can only make this unique if I give my own perspective. I’ve been up all night. I had to work late. I couldn’t sleep. I think I’m addicted to the Food Network. I think I’ll have a nap now.
The whole deal was if the shit you wrote was good they'd post it to the Web site, called "Cyberhemia." I'm posting the link because some friends of I Hate... are featured, so you can browse if you'd like.
Two of my essays are up there:
One is on YouTube, and how videos are getting small and grainy, and if there is a possibility of art in such a medium. The theme of the course was "arts and entertainment," which I wasn't thrilled about, but I did my best all things considered.
Another one was on Heath Ledger's death, and the reaction to it. I'm pretty sure I was way off the topic the professor wanted me to write about. But, whatever, I think it stands on its own.
The real reason for this post is that for the final essay we were supposed to "immerse" ourselves in a given topic and write a heavily researched piece on it. I was lucky enough to have gotten the Monterey Pop Festival. I think my professor was a bit of a Hippie back in the day, or at least he's a big liberal.
Anyway I wrote the damn thing in the library and e-mailed it in. I was tired and grumpy and confused and just generally having one of those days. But I thought what I wrote was pretty good: funny, interesting, personal. But I never had a copy on my computer. And the professor never graded me on it or gave me any feedback. I did get an A in the class, though. But the essay I turned in was so downright crazy I wanted to see what he had to say.
OK so, way too much intro, but I thought the stage had to be set. I found the essay going through my e-mail's "Sent mail" folder (for a completely unrelated reason). So I thought I'd post it here for your enjoyment. Read it, if you'd like, and post a comment, please. I've made only two minor edits.
Jimi Lit the Guitar on Fire, By the Way
I suppose it could be simple enough. Tell the story of the Monterey International Pop Festival, the three-day 1967 event in San Francisco that introduced future legends like Jimi Hendrix and The Who to widespread American audiences. More than 200,000 people attended the Festival in Monterey, Calif., less than 100 miles down the coast from San Francisco, the Hippie capital of the world. But my concern is that all research and immersion aside, I will still not be able to beat the Festival’s Wikipedia page for tone and accuracy. If I take a straightforward approach, give the who, what, where and why of the event as it has been told in the media, what good will that possibly bring? So indulge me, as I write about the drug-infused “Summer of Love,” because I’m going to take a trip of my own.
How can I tell this story better than someone who was there, at the Festival, or at least alive during that time and can testify to the general air that hung over the country? Because in order to fully understand the Monterey Festival, and its importance, you have to consider the Sixties, the Hippies, the Vietnam War and what they all mean in the 21st century.
I know what I think about those things I’ve just listed. I know what most of the media thinks – they’re of that generation and look back upon the free love age with nostalgia and fondness afforded to them by their cushy jobs and pension plans. But what about Americans at large and American culture? As the Baby Boomers start to retire and their ability to shape the conventional narrative expires, what legacy will they have left?
“Monterey – a celebration of youthful naiveté,” writes Grace Slick, of Jefferson Airplane, one of the headline acts in the Festival. “A last desperate whoop of careless freedom,” before the Draft took the men off to Vietnam, writes Glenys Roberts, an attendee, 40 years later in the (UK) Daily Mail. She credits Janis Joplin as the high point. But by 1970, Janis Joplin was dead. So were Jimi Hendrix and Otis Redding, a soul legend. I’ve never known the hope of the Sixties without knowing that, yeah, drugs are probably bad for you, that people died, that the extreme nature of the era probably led to Nixon, Jimmy Carter and, worst yet, the Reagan Conservative Revolution.
So let’s get the established facts out of the way. The music was undoubtedly incredible. I love listening to the rock from this era. Turbulent times lead to great art. Oddly, the media was much more critical of the music when it came out than they are now. And while some like to set up Monterey as the precursor to Woodstock, or a more pure version untainted by mainstream acceptance, the music for both events was essentially the same. Craig McGregor writes in the Times: “The cruelest paradox of the Woodstock nation is that it has been liberated, primarily, by the black race from which it has borrowed its music, dance, language, style and much of its sense of brotherhood – but that so far it has done little to free those who freed it.” Grace Slick would blame others: “For a couple of years in the late sixties, no matter what was going on in the world, our generation happily assumed that with love and education we could change outdated social systems. One huge thing that we missed, 90% of the population is genetically imbued with sub mediocre reasoning skills. No matter how much you hug them or read to them, there’s no correcting stupid.”
Monterey lives on, most likely, because it was recorded and turned into a documentary by director D.A. Pennebaker. It’s sort-of a cool thing to know about when you’re high and talking about great music. “Yea, man,” one might say, “That’s where Hendrix and The Who and Janis Joplin came to America.” Then you'll look up Jefferson Airplane’s White Rabbit on YouTube and maybe type in “Hendrix Monterey” and call up his performance.
Roberts writes that the Festival “celebrated a genuine new pacifist streak among the young which gathered such momentum that, eight years later, it led to the end of the Vietnam War.” Eight years? Is she really proud of that? Nixon ended the war; do you think he was a crowning achievement of the flower-power movement? She is quick to hedge her fascination with the event – crowing about the dangers of psychedelic drugs as she giddily recalls Timothy Leary telling kids to “turn on, tune in and drop out.” The same crowd that tells me on a near daily basis to apply for internships and work my rear end off so I can get a good job looks back upon their lazy, drug-filled youth with such reverence that the hypocrisy is palpable. We’ve had the fun, they say, we’ve had the craziness, now settle into your pre-packaged, mainstream Main Street existence. And then these same people wonder why we want to hang around the house until we’re 26, or 29, or even later. We’ve largely missed out on the youthful naiveté that you rub in our faces with your superior music and revolution – even one that largely failed.
The supposed “counterculture” that the Hippies thrust upon America is treated with such reverence by the media that I have to be a little suspicious. It seems the Boomers have been writing the rules for a long time now. Newsweek said it best, when it marked the 40th anniversary of the Summer of Love: “The fact is, we're paying a lot more attention to those long-ago months now than we did back then, when they were actually happening… The boomer nostalgia machinery has been running full tilt.” The article goes on to say that it’s difficult to impose coherence on an inherently unruly time. I, for one, am still quite confused how to process it all. And in the meantime, I’ll have my own youthful college rebellion.
I’m rambling now. I haven’t had much sleep. I procrastinated, but I always do that. This may not make much sense. I may not get the grade I want. I know I’m not supposed to discuss grades in a paper, I don’t think, but this is going to be graded, so why not address it? I’ve used too many questions. But that’s all I can come up with. I know I could have done this straightforward, quoted the thirty or so articles I’ve read, and done a good job. But it would have been something that someone else could have done much better. I can only make this unique if I give my own perspective. I’ve been up all night. I had to work late. I couldn’t sleep. I think I’m addicted to the Food Network. I think I’ll have a nap now.
-Steve Yusko, 5/7/2008
UPDATE: In case this isn't abundantly clear, I think the professor for this class thought I was an ass-hole. And he was probably right.
Wednesday, December 10, 2008
Big 3 Bailout
This shit is crazy.
I could write for days on this.
But I'm not going to bore you.
My opinion: let 'em fail. They're not very good at what they do. That's why they have no money. So, let 'em fail. Yeah, those 3 million lost jobs are going to suck. But if you can't fix all the holes in the dam, might as well blow the bitch up.
Read this article for a more sane reason.
BONUS: No more Mustangs. Or Hummers. What will the douche bags of the future have to drive?
I could write for days on this.
But I'm not going to bore you.
My opinion: let 'em fail. They're not very good at what they do. That's why they have no money. So, let 'em fail. Yeah, those 3 million lost jobs are going to suck. But if you can't fix all the holes in the dam, might as well blow the bitch up.
Read this article for a more sane reason.
BONUS: No more Mustangs. Or Hummers. What will the douche bags of the future have to drive?
Tuesday, December 09, 2008
Plaxico
So I don't want to waste too much time on this. Three things:
1. Sean Taylor. Sean Taylor. Sean Taylor. Joey Porter. Steve Smith. I'd carry a gun, too. These NFL players have a big target on their heads. I don't blame Plax for wanting to have a gun, he should have (and, I think, could have) done it legally. Or get some dude to follow you around. You are fucking rich.
2. This whole nonsense about the Giants losing focus. It's completely overblown, and is just something for the hundreds of ex-NLF players/jackasses to talk about on TV. They lost a game against a team that needed the win much, much more. The Giants are 11-2, and have dealt with Plaxico-related issues for years now, including last year, when they won the Super Bowl. Like I said I'm trying to not waste too much time on this, but it's utter bullshit. Which brings me to:
3. ESPN. And sports media in general. But especially ESPN. They cover sports-related stories like the Plaxico thing with all the nuance and sense of perspective that cable news channels have. Which is to say: none. They are the ones who ask all the questions about Plaxico, rephrasing them again and again to try to get the players to say something controversial or worthy of Sportscenter. And then they are the exact same people who say, "Well, with all these questions, you wonder how they will keep focus." And then if the Giants win, they say, brilliant job keeping focus. If they lose, it's all due to lack of focus.
Maybe the fucking Eagles won because the Giants didn't play well and the Eagles wanted to win more and thereby scored more points than the Giants. Why is every game like some Desperate Housewives psychodrama? I just don't get it. Attn: ESPN. YOU ARE RUINING SPORTS. Please stop, thanks.
1. Sean Taylor. Sean Taylor. Sean Taylor. Joey Porter. Steve Smith. I'd carry a gun, too. These NFL players have a big target on their heads. I don't blame Plax for wanting to have a gun, he should have (and, I think, could have) done it legally. Or get some dude to follow you around. You are fucking rich.
2. This whole nonsense about the Giants losing focus. It's completely overblown, and is just something for the hundreds of ex-NLF players/jackasses to talk about on TV. They lost a game against a team that needed the win much, much more. The Giants are 11-2, and have dealt with Plaxico-related issues for years now, including last year, when they won the Super Bowl. Like I said I'm trying to not waste too much time on this, but it's utter bullshit. Which brings me to:
3. ESPN. And sports media in general. But especially ESPN. They cover sports-related stories like the Plaxico thing with all the nuance and sense of perspective that cable news channels have. Which is to say: none. They are the ones who ask all the questions about Plaxico, rephrasing them again and again to try to get the players to say something controversial or worthy of Sportscenter. And then they are the exact same people who say, "Well, with all these questions, you wonder how they will keep focus." And then if the Giants win, they say, brilliant job keeping focus. If they lose, it's all due to lack of focus.
Maybe the fucking Eagles won because the Giants didn't play well and the Eagles wanted to win more and thereby scored more points than the Giants. Why is every game like some Desperate Housewives psychodrama? I just don't get it. Attn: ESPN. YOU ARE RUINING SPORTS. Please stop, thanks.
SNL: 12/6/08
I'm generally a SNL hater. I thought Mad TV was funnier, until I actually watched whole episodes of that show from start to finish, and then just found something else to do on Saturday nights.
But I found myself with nothing to do last Saturday after work and tuned in to SNL. It had to be one of the funniest post-Will Ferrell show yet.
The driving forces behind the laughter were Andy Samberg and host John Malkovich. Samberg had a great sketch where he played the 9-year-old boy who wrote the book on how to talk to girls. Samberg's M.O. is the same almost every time: set you up by lulling you into a slight boredom, and then hit you with some mighty offensive/hilarious stuff. He did it here, predictably, by dropping some actual no-holds-barred advice.
That "Mi Scuzi" guy from EuroTrip did a funny Boy George. He might actually have talent. And Kenan did a funny Plaxico. I mean, when you shoot yourself in the leg it's like a 75 mph fastball down the middle for comedy.
Malkovich was funny by appealing to his inner Walken and being as weird and creepy as can be.
There was another skit where he played like a deformed pre-teen girl that was so sick and funny but I don't think NBC has it up. It was just plain weird, too.
Then, of course, the kicker. I'm not going to give away the title, but I'm sure most of you have seen it now. It so completely took me by surprise. I thought they were saying "piss" because the alternative, I thought, couldn't be broadcast on TV. I was wrong. I rewound the damn thing on my DVR and nearly cried. Watch below:
But I found myself with nothing to do last Saturday after work and tuned in to SNL. It had to be one of the funniest post-Will Ferrell show yet.
The driving forces behind the laughter were Andy Samberg and host John Malkovich. Samberg had a great sketch where he played the 9-year-old boy who wrote the book on how to talk to girls. Samberg's M.O. is the same almost every time: set you up by lulling you into a slight boredom, and then hit you with some mighty offensive/hilarious stuff. He did it here, predictably, by dropping some actual no-holds-barred advice.
That "Mi Scuzi" guy from EuroTrip did a funny Boy George. He might actually have talent. And Kenan did a funny Plaxico. I mean, when you shoot yourself in the leg it's like a 75 mph fastball down the middle for comedy.
Malkovich was funny by appealing to his inner Walken and being as weird and creepy as can be.
There was another skit where he played like a deformed pre-teen girl that was so sick and funny but I don't think NBC has it up. It was just plain weird, too.
Then, of course, the kicker. I'm not going to give away the title, but I'm sure most of you have seen it now. It so completely took me by surprise. I thought they were saying "piss" because the alternative, I thought, couldn't be broadcast on TV. I was wrong. I rewound the damn thing on my DVR and nearly cried. Watch below:
Don't expect much...
...from I Hate... between now and and Jan. 1. Work plus a trip home means less time for blogging. When the new year starts, I'll see if there isn't something to spice this thing up, maybe attract more visitors. Until then, look for the usual, only slightly less updated.
Saturday, December 06, 2008
Ch-Ch-Changes
OK, so I realize this is my third post on late-night TV in a short time.
But bear with me.
Because the institutions of late night TV are as American as apple pie.
And in 2009, we're in for a change.
Conan is set to take over at The Tonight Show in March, and Jimmy Fallon will fill in behind Conan at Late Night.
I'm a big Conan fan, and I'm excited about the move. But that leaves a gaping hole at the 12:30* time, because Jimmy Fallon is a ginormous tool, and Craig Ferguson (at CBS) has a thick accent.**
But I'll get to that below. What I want to say most is how torn I'm going to be between Conan and David Letterman. I've always been a Dave and Conan guy. CBS first, NBC after. Conan is kind of like the people's champ, and a college-age king, so I'm interested to see what he does with The Tonight Show. But, if you haven't been watching, Dave has been putting on the best late night TV I have ever seen.
It isn't as crazy as the old Dave or the old Conan (Dave would fuck with drive-thru people, Conan and his masturbating bear). But it's GOOD. Like, extremely well done.
Two things are contributing, I think.
1. Dave becoming a father. It has given him a new outlook, and an entirely different attitude. He seems more upbeat, which makes him that much funnier. He hosts like the show is just something he does, like it's unimportant, which gives it a breeziness that is quite appealing. A little while ago, Dave had Biff put his son's teddy bear on that fake bridge backdrop. This, right before he had Barack Obama on. Listening to Dave as he describes a conversation with his son is funny, emotional and just damn good TV. When he talks about having a child, he does it in such a universal way. It's so easy to imagine yourself in his shoes.
2. Politics (well, related to 1.). I think Dave, the king of irony and self-deprecation, got a new outlook on life after he became a father. I think he started to care more about the future. And he got political. He went after Bush all the time, with stuff like "Great Moments in Presidential Speeches." He got into heated fights will Bill O'Reilly. He was firm and vocal about his anti-war views, and, to me, served as the Cronkite-like moral voice of our era. When Dave was against it, you knew something was wrong.
More than ever, Dave is just doing what he wants. And his instincts are good. I suggest tuning in.
I'm not sure I've convinced you, after reading what I just wrote. Here's another example. When Paris Hilton came on, right after she went to jail, she kept trying to change the subject. But that's all he wanted to talk about. And he kept bringing it up, again and again. It was a little uncomfortable, but extremely funny. And I think it's exactly what his viewers wanted to hear about, too.
And when John McCain snubbed him for Katie Couric (over the whole campaign-on-hold economy fiasco), he stole an internal feed to show McCain having makeup applied before his Couric interview. And the CBS News people were pissed but he just laughed at 'em. Then he had Couric on and spent the whole time making fun of Sarah Palin, basically. He forgot to talk about the McCain snub, and someone wrote an article about it in the NY Post. So he just puts a segment in the next day where he calls Couric to talk about it, and he goofs around with her until she's like, uh, I got to go, I have a show, too. It's genius in its simplicity and damn funny.
Stuff like this keeps happening. It's must-see TV.
UPDATE: I'm always trying to think, in my head, of three people, dead or alive, I'd like to have as dinner guests. It used to be a question they'd always ask athletes in the NY Post, which I grew up reading.*** Dave is always on the list. The other two are always the hardest. Carlin, Taibbi, David Foster Wallace, Bill Hicks, etc., etc. Maybe I'll have a post about this later.
*- One possibility is that ABC will nab Leno and bump Jimmy Kimmel back a little, which would instantly give them a huge place in the late night TV world that they've never had (presumably, assuming people watch The Tonight Show for Leno and not due to some brand or institutional loyalty.). And it would give me something to watch at 12:30 (Kimmel is a funny dude, but he relies on his security guards too much, and their stuff is inconsistent and often boring. But overall a funny show.)
**- I'm like legally deaf and accents are very hard to understand, especially on a small TV with tinny speakers. And captioning ruins jokes. I do think Ferguson is quite funny, though.
***And whose flashy and often offensive headlines are the type I instinctively come up with first when I'm writing headlines for a newspaper (if, say, that were my job, which I'm not confirming or denying). Some quick examples:
Holy Shiite (about the Koran in the toilet story)
Kiss Your Asteroid Goodbye
Wacko Jacko Backo
Let U$ Prey (About rapist priests...something about money too)
Hill No! (Clinton says she'll never run for president)
Jiggle All The Way (About getting boob jobs for Christmas)
But bear with me.
Because the institutions of late night TV are as American as apple pie.
And in 2009, we're in for a change.
Conan is set to take over at The Tonight Show in March, and Jimmy Fallon will fill in behind Conan at Late Night.
I'm a big Conan fan, and I'm excited about the move. But that leaves a gaping hole at the 12:30* time, because Jimmy Fallon is a ginormous tool, and Craig Ferguson (at CBS) has a thick accent.**
But I'll get to that below. What I want to say most is how torn I'm going to be between Conan and David Letterman. I've always been a Dave and Conan guy. CBS first, NBC after. Conan is kind of like the people's champ, and a college-age king, so I'm interested to see what he does with The Tonight Show. But, if you haven't been watching, Dave has been putting on the best late night TV I have ever seen.
It isn't as crazy as the old Dave or the old Conan (Dave would fuck with drive-thru people, Conan and his masturbating bear). But it's GOOD. Like, extremely well done.
Two things are contributing, I think.
1. Dave becoming a father. It has given him a new outlook, and an entirely different attitude. He seems more upbeat, which makes him that much funnier. He hosts like the show is just something he does, like it's unimportant, which gives it a breeziness that is quite appealing. A little while ago, Dave had Biff put his son's teddy bear on that fake bridge backdrop. This, right before he had Barack Obama on. Listening to Dave as he describes a conversation with his son is funny, emotional and just damn good TV. When he talks about having a child, he does it in such a universal way. It's so easy to imagine yourself in his shoes.
2. Politics (well, related to 1.). I think Dave, the king of irony and self-deprecation, got a new outlook on life after he became a father. I think he started to care more about the future. And he got political. He went after Bush all the time, with stuff like "Great Moments in Presidential Speeches." He got into heated fights will Bill O'Reilly. He was firm and vocal about his anti-war views, and, to me, served as the Cronkite-like moral voice of our era. When Dave was against it, you knew something was wrong.
More than ever, Dave is just doing what he wants. And his instincts are good. I suggest tuning in.
I'm not sure I've convinced you, after reading what I just wrote. Here's another example. When Paris Hilton came on, right after she went to jail, she kept trying to change the subject. But that's all he wanted to talk about. And he kept bringing it up, again and again. It was a little uncomfortable, but extremely funny. And I think it's exactly what his viewers wanted to hear about, too.
And when John McCain snubbed him for Katie Couric (over the whole campaign-on-hold economy fiasco), he stole an internal feed to show McCain having makeup applied before his Couric interview. And the CBS News people were pissed but he just laughed at 'em. Then he had Couric on and spent the whole time making fun of Sarah Palin, basically. He forgot to talk about the McCain snub, and someone wrote an article about it in the NY Post. So he just puts a segment in the next day where he calls Couric to talk about it, and he goofs around with her until she's like, uh, I got to go, I have a show, too. It's genius in its simplicity and damn funny.
Stuff like this keeps happening. It's must-see TV.
UPDATE: I'm always trying to think, in my head, of three people, dead or alive, I'd like to have as dinner guests. It used to be a question they'd always ask athletes in the NY Post, which I grew up reading.*** Dave is always on the list. The other two are always the hardest. Carlin, Taibbi, David Foster Wallace, Bill Hicks, etc., etc. Maybe I'll have a post about this later.
*- One possibility is that ABC will nab Leno and bump Jimmy Kimmel back a little, which would instantly give them a huge place in the late night TV world that they've never had (presumably, assuming people watch The Tonight Show for Leno and not due to some brand or institutional loyalty.). And it would give me something to watch at 12:30 (Kimmel is a funny dude, but he relies on his security guards too much, and their stuff is inconsistent and often boring. But overall a funny show.)
**- I'm like legally deaf and accents are very hard to understand, especially on a small TV with tinny speakers. And captioning ruins jokes. I do think Ferguson is quite funny, though.
***And whose flashy and often offensive headlines are the type I instinctively come up with first when I'm writing headlines for a newspaper (if, say, that were my job, which I'm not confirming or denying). Some quick examples:
Holy Shiite (about the Koran in the toilet story)
Kiss Your Asteroid Goodbye
Wacko Jacko Backo
Let U$ Prey (About rapist priests...something about money too)
Hill No! (Clinton says she'll never run for president)
Jiggle All The Way (About getting boob jobs for Christmas)
Friday, December 05, 2008
It's a celebration
Today was the last day I had to attend undergraduate college. So we're celebrating at I Hate...Have a drink, be merry!
I thought the best way to express my emotions is through song. And really, what is more beautiful than an upbeat early 90s techno dance song. Songs like:
Shi-pow-pow!
That didn't get your heart beating? How about this?
Oh yea, now you're groovin'
What's next?
Listen to that riff! Oh man... And that falsetto! OK I don't really know what a falsetto is.
More here!
And here!
And here!
Ace of Base: Awesome
Don't stop
Doesn't this just make you want to dance. Like, say, this nice young lady:
Didn't get everything? Leave a link in the comments.
But don't forget: THE BEST SONG EVER!
I thought the best way to express my emotions is through song. And really, what is more beautiful than an upbeat early 90s techno dance song. Songs like:
Shi-pow-pow!
That didn't get your heart beating? How about this?
Oh yea, now you're groovin'
What's next?
Listen to that riff! Oh man... And that falsetto! OK I don't really know what a falsetto is.
More here!
And here!
And here!
Ace of Base: Awesome
Don't stop
Doesn't this just make you want to dance. Like, say, this nice young lady:
Didn't get everything? Leave a link in the comments.
But don't forget: THE BEST SONG EVER!
Wednesday, December 03, 2008
Why I'm angry all the time and in most of these posts...
I don't know.
And fuck you for asking.
In other news, I thought I'd post the Web site for the paper I've been work at for the past semester.
There are some good stories on there, including one giving background on Olympic-sensation Michael Phelps' visit to Columbia.
Check 'em out if you're bored.
ALSO: Check out the comments of the Clemson-Carolina post. Some good discussion going on there.
And fuck you for asking.
In other news, I thought I'd post the Web site for the paper I've been work at for the past semester.
There are some good stories on there, including one giving background on Olympic-sensation Michael Phelps' visit to Columbia.
Check 'em out if you're bored.
ALSO: Check out the comments of the Clemson-Carolina post. Some good discussion going on there.
Congratulations grad!
I hesitate to do this, because for all I know he's probably a nice guy. But I am in a foul mood, so might as well just fucking do it.
Also: "I would like to be the first to wish you the best of luck in all of your future endeavors." Well, thank you. While you are certainly the first to congratulate me for graduating, seeing how I haven't graduated yet, you are not the first to wish me the best of luck in my endeavors. And considering what some of these endeavors are going to be, I doubt you'd want me to have very much luck at them at all. Because my first endeavor is to rip your e-mail in a barely read blog post. They'll just get worse after that.
Then, OK, to the business at hand, Mr. Gaeckle, the "Commencement Ceremonies" which you insist on capitalizing throughout, needlessly. What follows is corporate gibberish that boils down to: Stay in your seat through the whole ceremony, and don't cheer. What a novelty it would have been if the e-mail said that.
Instead we get: "It is important that you remain present for the duration of the ceremony to avoid the confusion and disorder of early departure."
And then: "...please encourage your relatives and guests to minimize cheers and shouts as your name is announced – your fellow Gamecocks behind you may not hear their names called during this once in a lifetime event if there is excessive noise."
I completely agree that people should generally STFU at these things. I would probably go if everyone promised to say as little as possible, but my guess is they'll have some speakers up there going on and on with gibberish of the kind featured in this e-mail.
BRIEF RESPITE: Yesterday I watched Cash Cab. One question was: What is the latin term that means "It does not follow." The answer was: non sequitur. We use the term, sometimes, to refer to a comment that has nothing to do with a preceding comment. Example, from WIKIAnswers: The electoral college is an antiquated system, so I think I'll go shopping.
Another example, from Mr. Gackckkel: "As the Ceremony should last no more than two hours, we do ask that you remember to offer others the same courtesy that you deserve."
OK, so this forces me to ask: What if they Ceremony were longer? Shorter? Would that then mean I should forget to offer others the same courtesy? Do I then not deserve the courtesy? Why is the courtesy based on how long the Ceremony is going last? And Why is Ceremony Capitalized?
"Together we can make this year's Commencement Ceremony the best ever!"
Seriously? It's a December graduation. I don't know who is speaking at it. These things generally are tedious and boring. Does anyone really expect this to be the best ever? Is this supposed to be sarcastic? I would be so much happier if this was sarcasm.
Finally, the last paragraph. My comments in ( ).
"I thank you in advance for your cooperation in this (SUPER)serious matter (Oh, yeah, this is life or death here, buddy). Once again, congratulations on all of your achievements to date (Of which you know nothing about, and trust me, they're limited). I am confident there will be many more to come! (From where do you generate this confidence? Because we go to the same school?)"
Thanks for the form e-mail, you've given a minimal effort to address a ridiculous situation and accomplished nothing.
Have a nice fucking day.
I received this e-mail yesterday. Feel free to just skim over it, I'll be commenting on it below:
Dear Graduate,OK, let's start from the top. "Embark on a new journey?" Is that the best way you can describe it? And people wonder why I hate commencement ceremonies. It's because they are filled with this hallow language and bullshit.
Congratulations on your achievement! As you prepare to embark on a new journey, after your graduation from the University of South Carolina, the Office of Student Government and I would like to be the first to wish you the best of luck in all of your future endeavors. With all of your hard work finally paying off, we urge you to continue to keep in consideration the Commencement Ceremonies which are fast approaching.
It is well known that the Commencement Ceremonies are important to everyone involved. There are certain standards that must be maintained in order to preserve the sanctity and integrity of this special moment. It is important that you remain present for the duration of the ceremony to avoid the confusion and disorder of early departure. Also, please encourage your relatives and guests to minimize cheers and shouts as your name is announced-your fellow Gamecocks behind you may not hear their names called during this once in a lifetime event if there is excessive noise. As the Ceremony should last no more than two hours, we do ask that you remember to offer others the same courtesy that you deserve. Together we can make this year's Commencement Ceremony the best ever!
I thank you in advance for your cooperation in this serious matter. Once again, congratulations on all of your achievements to date. I am confident there will be many more to come!
Best regards,
Andrew Gaeckle
Student Body President
USC Student Government
Also: "I would like to be the first to wish you the best of luck in all of your future endeavors." Well, thank you. While you are certainly the first to congratulate me for graduating, seeing how I haven't graduated yet, you are not the first to wish me the best of luck in my endeavors. And considering what some of these endeavors are going to be, I doubt you'd want me to have very much luck at them at all. Because my first endeavor is to rip your e-mail in a barely read blog post. They'll just get worse after that.
Then, OK, to the business at hand, Mr. Gaeckle, the "Commencement Ceremonies" which you insist on capitalizing throughout, needlessly. What follows is corporate gibberish that boils down to: Stay in your seat through the whole ceremony, and don't cheer. What a novelty it would have been if the e-mail said that.
Instead we get: "It is important that you remain present for the duration of the ceremony to avoid the confusion and disorder of early departure."
And then: "...please encourage your relatives and guests to minimize cheers and shouts as your name is announced – your fellow Gamecocks behind you may not hear their names called during this once in a lifetime event if there is excessive noise."
I completely agree that people should generally STFU at these things. I would probably go if everyone promised to say as little as possible, but my guess is they'll have some speakers up there going on and on with gibberish of the kind featured in this e-mail.
BRIEF RESPITE: Yesterday I watched Cash Cab. One question was: What is the latin term that means "It does not follow." The answer was: non sequitur. We use the term, sometimes, to refer to a comment that has nothing to do with a preceding comment. Example, from WIKIAnswers: The electoral college is an antiquated system, so I think I'll go shopping.
Another example, from Mr. Gackckkel: "As the Ceremony should last no more than two hours, we do ask that you remember to offer others the same courtesy that you deserve."
OK, so this forces me to ask: What if they Ceremony were longer? Shorter? Would that then mean I should forget to offer others the same courtesy? Do I then not deserve the courtesy? Why is the courtesy based on how long the Ceremony is going last? And Why is Ceremony Capitalized?
"Together we can make this year's Commencement Ceremony the best ever!"
Seriously? It's a December graduation. I don't know who is speaking at it. These things generally are tedious and boring. Does anyone really expect this to be the best ever? Is this supposed to be sarcastic? I would be so much happier if this was sarcasm.
Finally, the last paragraph. My comments in ( ).
"I thank you in advance for your cooperation in this (SUPER)serious matter (Oh, yeah, this is life or death here, buddy). Once again, congratulations on all of your achievements to date (Of which you know nothing about, and trust me, they're limited). I am confident there will be many more to come! (From where do you generate this confidence? Because we go to the same school?)"
Thanks for the form e-mail, you've given a minimal effort to address a ridiculous situation and accomplished nothing.
Have a nice fucking day.
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