Monday, August 28, 2006

Headline From Fox News:

Ernesto Bears Down on Florida

When isn't that true?

Can't Do It

My brain has frozen me out from writing. Wait, that makes me too much a victim. I have made myself too self-conscious to write. This often happens when I or someone I know reads aloud from one of my short stories. I wonder if my control of the language is not yet matching what I have in my head and want to express. That would be promising, but, most accomplished writers say the same thing. Seeing that this is the only reason I'm in school, I need to get back on the horse and soon. I haven't got the time to let days pass before I write again. The other problem is my computer shut down before I thought to save my newest short story, which was in a form that I really liked. It's hard to re-approach the concept now, knowing I've lost everything on it so far. Balls.

Friday, August 25, 2006

Listen to the Man

"I thought, 'Wow, I've got to run with this. I got it -- United Abominations, 'cause it's an abomination what they're doing!'"

--Megadeth lead singer Dave Mustain, on naming his new album for the UN.

Thursday, August 24, 2006

Why Do People Like Greg Gutfield?

I only mentioned Greg Gutfield in passing once before, because he said something sometime on Huffington Post, where he writes meandering posts ripping (who cares if they deserve it? It's Huffington Post. It's like telling Ian McKellan he's gay) everyone else who puts posts on the site. He revels in playing the asshole, chain-smoking, alcoholic, conservative who, through his smart-ass observations, shows he knows more than you. You know who else does that? Christopher Hitchens. Do you know the difference between Hitchens and Gutfield? Hitchens actually knows more than you. And me. And he's a contrarion, not an asshole. Well, he's kind of an asshole, too. Anway, Salon has a little piece about what kind of reality shows creative people would make, and they include Gutfield, and promise more Gutfield for the next segment. Who knew there was such demand for former editors of Stuff, Maxim, and Men's Health? By the way, that's the magazine equivalent of wearing a ball cap sideways, calling gay people "fags" and date-raping a co-worker. Anyway, check out Gutfield's section - it's not all that creative, nor is it very funny. It's kind of like "Everybody Loves Raymond" in that way. It's about zombies. Is he playfully tweaking the fascination our culture has with shitty zombie movies, or does he really think it would be cool? Who cares? He edited Maxim.

Wednesday, August 09, 2006

Here's To You, Tiny-Faced Off-Duty Cop

At Barney's, apparently a cop bar in south city, I had a few drinks with my friends. We talked about a range of issues, all of the time respectful of each other's views. My friend Monaca, sitting across from her delightful boyfriend Joe, recognizes a guy who lives a few houses down from her and decides to go talk to him. He seemed nice enough. The whole group of guys around him seemed nice enough. All except a guy who was goofily dancing around to the shitty southern rock playing on the stereo system. This man had an exceptionally large head, but when he turned around, I noticed he had a very small face. He looked like a political cartoon, basically. And he had a smirk, oh the smirk. Anyway, he apparently said a few lewd things to my friend Monaca as she tried to talk to her friend, which hastened her departure from their conversation. She commented on how uncomfortable this douche made her feel. Then this guy, honestly, does that Saturday Night Live Will Ferrel bobbing head dancing douche bag thing, only I think he was serious, like it wasn't a joke, like this was his routine. He approached a group of four girls doing this, and each one of them told him they all had boyfriends. I know because I eavesdropped - I found this man fascinating, like a car-wreck with GHB in its pocket. Anyway, Monaca told us how she felt, and Joe - a sturdy, unintimidatable fellow - went over to talk to their neighbor, who told Joe his tiny-faced friend was an off-duty police officer. Joe told him to make sure his friend cooled it, because, as a rule, federal officers are not intimidated by city police, and Joe showed his friend his badge, making sure our friend the city cop saw it too. He rather calmed down after that. Now all you fellas listen unto me, put down that whiskey, and let that alcohol induced power trip caused by your ability to finish a two month training course be.