I need to warn you right out of the gate that this is going to be about politics.....get the hell back here and let me finish!
Though I am going to be discussing politics, I am going to be mostly making fun of people, lots of people, every kind of people, so it's ok.
Recently, due to the vagaries of a multi partied system that is not unlike a Thanksgiving feast at your in laws, loud, untamed and lacking any semblance of agreement on anything, our government has fallen.
This tends to happen when one party does not hold a majority of the seats. Simple math, imagine America where you have two parties, no one can govern without more seats than the other. Now add in a half dozen other parties taking seats away from both parties. It is possible to have more seats than everyone else, but still not have more seats than everyone else. In this scenario, you need to get one of your crazy drunk cousins to agree with you on something. If you can't then you have to go home, dust yourself off and get ready for Christmas, and do it all over again.
Since this is what happened here in my lovely country, we are going to be having an election. Unlike the American elections, which happen on a specific schedule, ours kind of just spring up out of nowhere. Less time to prepare, and certainly less time to hear about how the other team likes young boys and was born in Africa.
Having said all of that, I present to you the political parties of Canada in all of their unglory.
The Conservative Party.
These people make republicans look like right wing loonies....wait that doesn't make sense. Ok to be fair, our conservatives are a little more like American centrists. While they believe in smaller government and less corporate taxes, they also believe in health care and good government spending. They are the front runners right now but they are doing it much the same way Republicans do it, through fear.
Think of these people sort of like the Sith. They do everything from a place of emotion, but their emotional range is kind of restricted to fear, greed and lust for power. They want to build supermax prisons, charge 9 year olds with murder and buy some stealth fighters. WTF does Canada need with stealth fighters? No one appears to be attacking us, and our traditional role in the world is that of peace keeper. The last thing you want as a peacekeeper is to be unseen.
Peacekeepers need a giant frigging sign lit in neon saying hey look, we want you to knock it off and hug it out!
The major problem with this party is their refusal to see the future. As is the case with so many corporate entities, they are stuck on old models and outdated thinking to get a head. Nothing about their plan says future, just more of the same.
The Liberal Party.
I can sum this entire party up in one sentence. Here it comes.
This party's great idea of a policy meeting with the public is a wine tasting party.
What are you guys trying to look out of touch with 90% of the country? A wine and cheese mixer is not really the way to get people on board with your policies, it is just something faculty member do to feel classy and sophisticated, like European nobility.
his is Canada, try a beer bash where you watch the hockey game and then afterwards talk about policy crap.
These people are out of sync, and half their platform is the other guy is a jerk. Not helpful.
The Bloc Quebecois.
These people want to separate from Canada and form the new Country of Quebec. Or at least that's what they say they want. What they really want is to make Dad angry by disagreeing with whatever Dad likes. They are pissed off and want attention.
At a certain point we should probably stop giving it to them and make them go to rehab, where they can get the counselling they need.
The NDP
Look guys, socialists. These are the people that Bill O'Reilly is always bitching about. These people want free abortions for 12 year old Lolitas and free care for your rich grandmother.
They also want more union jobs, a whole whackload of government programs, and they want to raise taxes to get it.
They did finally wise up and say they just want to raise corporate taxes, not you know, the people's taxes, which is how they have gained some popularity.
Guess how many corporate donations they got last year? Yeah, pretty much the same as I got when I ran as the Jedi party.
They aren't bad people, but they seem to have reached the tipping point of support. Canada wants them around because they keep the other parties from gutting health care and erasing our pensions, but no one wants them to actually govern.
The Green Party.
Dirty hippies.
Seriously, damn dirty hippies.
I know what you're thinking, how can a single issue get you elected? It can't. Back in the day these people had no idea about anything that did not involve the environment or granola. It seems they have wizened up.
They have enough pull now to be considered a real political party, fielding candidates in every riding in the country. That sounds impressive, but my guess is some of the people running are actually liberals and socialists that didn't make the other parties cut. Nothing like playing for the B team.
I have to hand it to them though, they are the only party saying stuff about real innovation and future blah blah. They have their eye on the future, but they seem to think it involves sharing circles and community gardens.
They are actually right about this crap, but they are about ten years to early still to gain real traction.
It's hard to take someone in burlap seriously.
So these are the decisions we are faced with up here in the great white north.
The Sith, professors in sweater vests, union bosses, angry french people or hippies.
Not a lot of choice decisions there huh?
Ok maybe then you might want to vote on the leaders.
Stephen Harper - Conservative.
This fine gentleman wears a suit in the jacuzzi. He also has a fake smile that just screams trust me with your money, I dare you!
He reminds me of a televangelist in the sense that you don't understand what he is saying, but you believe he believes it, so you might as well give him your life's savings.
I don't suspect he is doing blow off of male hookers, but there is something he is doing that he is not telling us, perhaps it has something to do with the stealth fighters he wants to buy.
Michael Ignatief - Liberal.
He looks like your social studies teacher. The one tat wants you to call him Mike. Go ahead, you can trust him. He's not working for the man, he's trying to change the system.
The reality is, he is probably lying to you and just preforming a research project for his doctoral thesis, and non of this matters to him beyond what he gets out of it.
I suspect him of wanting to watch us like lab rats, and of using classical conditioning on us.
I think it has something to do with the fact he goes on television, and rather than saying what he stands for he just says what he doesn't like about the other guy.
Jack Layton - NDP
What is it with socialists and the mustache?
He looks a lot like Canada's version of a despot. Pasty white, bright blue eyes and a bushy stache that just screams I like to dance!
I am not sure why but I get that uncle who wants you to sit on his lap vibe off of him. I am sure he is a nice guy and all, but I am just not in to it.
Random Venom Spitting French Guy - Bloc.
I think it is still Gille Duceppe or whatever running that clown show, but I am afraid of being put on some watch list of anti government terrorists for going to their website.
I have no idea what he really stands for, but I think he is liberal. Oh and he wants to start a new country.
At a certain point I wanted to say to him, ok, here's some tough love. Go ahead. And then turn the lights out on him and walk away. Just cut his funding down to zero, cut off all aid and support and tell him to go out and find someone to help. Guess how far you are going to get?
The only issue I have with this is that America would own the new country inside of about 11 minutes. Them or China.
I mean really man, how far are you going to get without anything of value to trade? You have zero strategic importance, limited resources, and Canada own most of your electricity. You have no financial reserve of hard currency and limited relations with the rest of the world, cause no one will talk to you, because you are just a province.
I also look at this guy and get that tired old man who is smarter than everyone around him, but no one will listen because he has that one crazy thing he believes in.
Kind of like if you had an uncle who was in to Scientology, but also knew how to fix every problem you have, but you just can't listen to him because he believes Aliens have built everything and we are all controlled by little wizdings in our blood.
You can see him visibly slump and sigh whenever the other leaders are talking like he wants to say, you idiots, it's really simple we just have to, but he knows no one is going to listen, so he just sits there shaking his head waiting for his wife to tell him he can go home.
Elizabeth Moonbeam Lovechild Scooter McRosepetal Grey - Hippy
I would listen to her if she would stop dressing like a business woman and get down to the real thing. I want to see some burlap and hemp clothes, smell some pecculi, hear some bob marley and eat some granola.
You are trying to start a hippy revolution not convince the board to invest in windmills dammit.
There you have my thoughts on Canadian politics.
I promise something better tomorrow.
Wednesday, March 30, 2011
Tuesday, March 29, 2011
The One With The Friends Reference in the Title
The following is the next installment of my 9 thousand part series of delineating and classifying subspecies of human beings. In the past we have looked at different types of female humans and male humans.
This time around I thought we would discuss the different types of friends that exist in the world.
Those of you expecting a retrospective of the best television show to ever feature Matt Leblanc should go here. (this is likely to never get old for me.
Those expecting a biting commentary on how we classify our friend type relationships should hang out for a bit and see if that is what I end up doing.
The very first category of friend is the
This is the type of friend that loves to hang out, when there is plenty of booze, plenty of weed, plenty of food, or even just plenty of good news. When you are flush, this friend is right by your side every step of the way. They will be your confidant, your advisor, your priest, your party down buddy. One small problem. The instant it rains, they are out of sight. They run faster than they have ever run in their lives to get away from you when either the money runs out, or you have to deal with something in the real world.
This is a great friend to have when you are feeling good because they bring a little something extra to the party. They are the ones with the great stories, and usually a lampshade on their head by the end of the night. If you are bored, and can supply this person with fuel, there is no telling how many hookers are going to be passed out in the bathroom of your Montreal hotel room when you come to.
You cannot rely on this person for anything. They would love to help you move, unfortunately they have to be out of town that weekend. Oh damn, need a lift to the airport, would broh but my car has a bad alternator.
The only good news here is that while they would definitely not give you a kidney, you most likely don`t want one of their kidney`s anyway.
This is a frustrating friend. This is an aggravating friend. This is a person whom you find very attractive, whom you seem to click with but who seems to be not interested in you that way. You end up as friends and you can't get yourself out of it. Try as you might you can't get rid of the person, nor can you stand to hear about how their new boyfriend or girlfriend is so hot but they treat your friend like shit.
You know you have this type of friend if you have ever heard the phrase "I don't think of you like that." This is code for, the thought of sex with you makes me throw up in my mouth a little bit.
This is a tough friendship to get out of, and sometimes you never do, forever destined to pine for the one you think should be yours, yet never seems to think you are attractive enough for them. They tend to rely on you heavily for friendship so there's no way out of it unless you are a dick....hey maybe if you treat them poorly they will see you as a catch!
This is a harsh friend to have. You know they are spiraling out of control and their is nothing you can do for them. They have stepped out of a comfortable reality and decided that chaos is the way to live life. They have lost jobs, or can't hold them. This person can't really hold down friendships very well, but like Luke Skywalker you can still sense the good in them..
You want to salvage the friendship, or at least hang in there long enough in hopes that they will get back on track; however, everything you've done has backfired and they are just free falling.
The only thing you can do for this friend is hang out until the hit rock bottom. Nibble around the edges of their life, just enough to remind them you are there. Maybe when they come to they will see your outstretched hand and you can be friends again.
This friend is far too annoying to really want to hang around for any length of time, and I will tell you why, they have never lived. They live vicariously through you and books. They spend way too much time fantasizing and not enough time living.
This person wants to be shocked by you banging hookers in Thailand or Drinking from the firehose. This person wants to compare the differences in your life like it is some kind of science experiment.
The only reason to keep this person around is to find out at which point they gasp in shock and feint. It can be a fun experiment to be sure.
This person will frustrate you because they are scared of everything. They never want to try that crazy Italian restaurant and they certainly won't give up on anything and will always make the safe play.
This time around I thought we would discuss the different types of friends that exist in the world.
Those of you expecting a retrospective of the best television show to ever feature Matt Leblanc should go here. (this is likely to never get old for me.
Those expecting a biting commentary on how we classify our friend type relationships should hang out for a bit and see if that is what I end up doing.
The very first category of friend is the
Fair Weather Friend.
This is a great friend to have when you are feeling good because they bring a little something extra to the party. They are the ones with the great stories, and usually a lampshade on their head by the end of the night. If you are bored, and can supply this person with fuel, there is no telling how many hookers are going to be passed out in the bathroom of your Montreal hotel room when you come to.
You cannot rely on this person for anything. They would love to help you move, unfortunately they have to be out of town that weekend. Oh damn, need a lift to the airport, would broh but my car has a bad alternator.
The only good news here is that while they would definitely not give you a kidney, you most likely don`t want one of their kidney`s anyway.
The Rainy Day Friend
This person is the exact opposite of the consummate party friend This person is always there for you when you need a hug. If life has gotten you down, then they are there to pick you up. They always have a kind thing to say to you, and they always think you are an amazing person.
Sounds good so far right? One small problem, if you aren't currently in crisis, the chances of seeing this person, or even talking to them are slim. They are definitely the out of sight out of mind people. On a certain level you kind of think of them as narcissistic, yet when push comes to shove, they drop everything and run to your side.
Unlike the fair weather friend, these people always have an umbrella for you, and are completely willing to give you one of their kidneys, but chances are you can't meet for drinks or get your calls returned.
This person is the exact opposite of the consummate party friend This person is always there for you when you need a hug. If life has gotten you down, then they are there to pick you up. They always have a kind thing to say to you, and they always think you are an amazing person.
Sounds good so far right? One small problem, if you aren't currently in crisis, the chances of seeing this person, or even talking to them are slim. They are definitely the out of sight out of mind people. On a certain level you kind of think of them as narcissistic, yet when push comes to shove, they drop everything and run to your side.
Unlike the fair weather friend, these people always have an umbrella for you, and are completely willing to give you one of their kidneys, but chances are you can't meet for drinks or get your calls returned.
We're Just Friends Friend
This is a frustrating friend. This is an aggravating friend. This is a person whom you find very attractive, whom you seem to click with but who seems to be not interested in you that way. You end up as friends and you can't get yourself out of it. Try as you might you can't get rid of the person, nor can you stand to hear about how their new boyfriend or girlfriend is so hot but they treat your friend like shit.
You know you have this type of friend if you have ever heard the phrase "I don't think of you like that." This is code for, the thought of sex with you makes me throw up in my mouth a little bit.
This is a tough friendship to get out of, and sometimes you never do, forever destined to pine for the one you think should be yours, yet never seems to think you are attractive enough for them. They tend to rely on you heavily for friendship so there's no way out of it unless you are a dick....hey maybe if you treat them poorly they will see you as a catch!
The Train Wreck Friend
This is a harsh friend to have. You know they are spiraling out of control and their is nothing you can do for them. They have stepped out of a comfortable reality and decided that chaos is the way to live life. They have lost jobs, or can't hold them. This person can't really hold down friendships very well, but like Luke Skywalker you can still sense the good in them..
You want to salvage the friendship, or at least hang in there long enough in hopes that they will get back on track; however, everything you've done has backfired and they are just free falling.
The only thing you can do for this friend is hang out until the hit rock bottom. Nibble around the edges of their life, just enough to remind them you are there. Maybe when they come to they will see your outstretched hand and you can be friends again.
The Sheltered Friend
This friend is far too annoying to really want to hang around for any length of time, and I will tell you why, they have never lived. They live vicariously through you and books. They spend way too much time fantasizing and not enough time living.
This person wants to be shocked by you banging hookers in Thailand or Drinking from the firehose. This person wants to compare the differences in your life like it is some kind of science experiment.
The only reason to keep this person around is to find out at which point they gasp in shock and feint. It can be a fun experiment to be sure.
This person will frustrate you because they are scared of everything. They never want to try that crazy Italian restaurant and they certainly won't give up on anything and will always make the safe play.
The Best Friend
There is no picture for this one because there is no thousand words that can describe this relationship. You know all the sayings; your friend will help you move, your best friend will help you move a body and so on.
I am reminded of meatloaf (mmmm meatloaf) who sang some horrible line about how he would do anything for love, but he won't do that. Well your best friend will do that.
Your best friend is the one who finishes your sentences. Your best friend is the one who can hear in your voice what you are feeling, see in your eye what you are thinking and reach in to your heart and mess around a bit.
This is the kind of friendship that all other relationships are built on. Without a person who cares about you like this, you can't form a love connection. Everything else is just lust, and lust fades and all you are left with is a person you don't really know.
Your best friend is the one that has always, and will always be there for you. They don't know why, they just are. They can't describe it, wouldn't want to if they could. It is a relationship that defies real words. The truly lucky are those who are in love with their best friend because that level of intimacy is hard to find in anything else.
This is what love looks like when you strip down the lust and cravings for validation.
Your best friend validates you always because they see you as you truly are and they don't care. They want to be with that person.
So often I have ripped off greater thinkers than I to show you the different types of love, the lustful, the unconditional and the familial. True love is all these things. It is romance, it is unconditional and it is a bond that never breaks.
Think about that the next time you are at the bar and the Situation hits on you while another sits quietly in the corner.
Lust fades, love lasts, and best friends are forever.
But I am a ridiculous romantic like that.
I am reminded of meatloaf (mmmm meatloaf) who sang some horrible line about how he would do anything for love, but he won't do that. Well your best friend will do that.
Your best friend is the one who finishes your sentences. Your best friend is the one who can hear in your voice what you are feeling, see in your eye what you are thinking and reach in to your heart and mess around a bit.
This is the kind of friendship that all other relationships are built on. Without a person who cares about you like this, you can't form a love connection. Everything else is just lust, and lust fades and all you are left with is a person you don't really know.
Your best friend is the one that has always, and will always be there for you. They don't know why, they just are. They can't describe it, wouldn't want to if they could. It is a relationship that defies real words. The truly lucky are those who are in love with their best friend because that level of intimacy is hard to find in anything else.
This is what love looks like when you strip down the lust and cravings for validation.
Your best friend validates you always because they see you as you truly are and they don't care. They want to be with that person.
So often I have ripped off greater thinkers than I to show you the different types of love, the lustful, the unconditional and the familial. True love is all these things. It is romance, it is unconditional and it is a bond that never breaks.
Think about that the next time you are at the bar and the Situation hits on you while another sits quietly in the corner.
Lust fades, love lasts, and best friends are forever.
But I am a ridiculous romantic like that.
Monday, March 28, 2011
The Sky is Not The Limit
How does one fathom the possibilities?
How does one break them down to a list?
Where are the limits?
What is the end of the line for hope?
Can there ever be a time or place where there were no limits.
Is there ever a person you can just look at and know that anything is possible?
How do you tell them their limits when they simply have none.
Can a person be so full of potential that you would move the earth to a new solar system if thye thought it was what they needed?
You can be anything, because you are you. A shining light of unlimited power whose star shines so bright I find myself shielding my eyes, because the thought of being blinded by your radiance would deprive me of your magnificent edifice.
Without limits, without borders, lines or fences you can do all, be all.
It has never been truer that one person exists in all states than it is with you.
I must never limit your state of being to one thing because that denies your nature, denies your true being.
I only know that standing in your light makes me warmer than sunshine on an August day without the cooling of even a mild breeze.
Your light brightens my world more than a hundred ordinary stars could ever hope to.
You can be everything, anything and nothing and it matters not to me.
What do I think about you and your future? I think you are a shining star, streaking across the sky, leaving a brilliant trail of a thousand colours.
I think I want to grab on to the trail, to that tail of sparkling stardust and hold on for dear life.
I have no idea where you are going, but I know I need a lift there.
Be everything you dream of and I will be there to either sing your praise or pick you up when you fall.
Be everything and anything, because you truly are something.
Something I cannot define, but something I cannot deny.
Those are my thoughts on what you can do.
I suck at poetry, have no meter, ryhm or timbre....or knowledge of what those terms mean. I just like short people.
How does one break them down to a list?
Where are the limits?
What is the end of the line for hope?
Can there ever be a time or place where there were no limits.
Is there ever a person you can just look at and know that anything is possible?
How do you tell them their limits when they simply have none.
Can a person be so full of potential that you would move the earth to a new solar system if thye thought it was what they needed?
You can be anything, because you are you. A shining light of unlimited power whose star shines so bright I find myself shielding my eyes, because the thought of being blinded by your radiance would deprive me of your magnificent edifice.
Without limits, without borders, lines or fences you can do all, be all.
It has never been truer that one person exists in all states than it is with you.
I must never limit your state of being to one thing because that denies your nature, denies your true being.
I only know that standing in your light makes me warmer than sunshine on an August day without the cooling of even a mild breeze.
Your light brightens my world more than a hundred ordinary stars could ever hope to.
You can be everything, anything and nothing and it matters not to me.
What do I think about you and your future? I think you are a shining star, streaking across the sky, leaving a brilliant trail of a thousand colours.
I think I want to grab on to the trail, to that tail of sparkling stardust and hold on for dear life.
I have no idea where you are going, but I know I need a lift there.
Be everything you dream of and I will be there to either sing your praise or pick you up when you fall.
Be everything and anything, because you truly are something.
Something I cannot define, but something I cannot deny.
Those are my thoughts on what you can do.
I suck at poetry, have no meter, ryhm or timbre....or knowledge of what those terms mean. I just like short people.
Podcast s01e03
Here's the latest podcast. Sad news that Alley was unable to do the cast this week, but she should be back bright eyed and hot tailed for next week.
This one is all about bad tv and lame jokes and impressions.
You can download the mp3 here.
Things you should know:
1. Alley makes the show funny
2. Alley isn't here.
3. I do a wicked Caruso
4. I seriously watched about 30 episodes of procedurals and kept notes
5. I have no life
6. Girls won't date me
7. Lists make me horny.
8. Not too horny
9. It is mercifully not as long as usual.
10. Will you call me in the morning?
Make sure you comment or send an email or stalk us.
Next week we delve in to the psyche of Alley and try to hypnotise her in to taking off her shirt.
This one is all about bad tv and lame jokes and impressions.
You can download the mp3 here.
Things you should know:
1. Alley makes the show funny
2. Alley isn't here.
3. I do a wicked Caruso
4. I seriously watched about 30 episodes of procedurals and kept notes
5. I have no life
6. Girls won't date me
7. Lists make me horny.
8. Not too horny
9. It is mercifully not as long as usual.
10. Will you call me in the morning?
Make sure you comment or send an email or stalk us.
Next week we delve in to the psyche of Alley and try to hypnotise her in to taking off her shirt.
Sunday, March 27, 2011
One Monkey Week Mar 21-27
One week of blogs in one Paragraph
A light week this week in the world of monkeying around. This week was all about the begining of the podcast. The first podcast is a sort of getting to know you, getting to know all about you thing where Alley and I discuss sex ed, bad food, and other foolishly personal things. The Second podcast was an interruption to my day. Alley decided we needed to discuss Rebecca Black and the worst song ever! We decided to go back to the wold school writting thing and I, Monkey wrote about being unaware of who to be and the fact that I am not gay, not that there is anything wrong with that.
Monkey Messages
When you bite your nails out of nervousness, only the uick you will find, never the answer. - Me.
Don't go around saying the world owes you a living. The world owes you nothing. It was here first.- Mark Twain
Life is a great big canvas, and you should throw all the paint on it you can. - Danny Kaye
If there's one thing I've learned, it's that life is one crushing defeat after another until you just wish Flanders was dead. - Homer Simpson
Death is not the end. There remains the litigation over the estate.- Ambrose Bierce
The Musical Interlude
Queen - I Want It All A real classic rocky thing. Reminds me of 80's rock, and prooves that it doesn't have to suck. There is always something melodic and classical about their work, and this is a great example. A song about rising above.
Nirvana - Pennyroyal Tea A rare dose of Nirvana in the middle of the week, but I was so damn tired this was the only thing that was going to get me through the day. A haunting performance from one of their final live shows, this is a song about all the bad shit that plagues the tortured soul.
Dropkick Murphys - Shipping Up To Boston Sometimes I just want to go to Boston and blow things up. A little late for Patty's day, but some celtic pride anyway.
Rage Against The Machine - Know Your Enemy I had considerable rage that day and needed a bit of Rage to bleed it out. You can always count on Rage to help you through anger, rage, hate, jealousy. Sometimes perspective is everything.
Weekly Nirvana
A pleasant tune off of Incesticide. I do pitty the fool.
Podcast of the Week.
As if there was any doubt, this week's review is completely self serving, and presented without shame. I am reviewing our podcast! That's right, one monkey media decided to begin posting their very own weekly podcast. The stars of the show are Chris Parker and Alley, and their banter, while still a bit stilted is somewhat entertaining.
It's clear that these two know each other well and can push each other's buttons. This can make for some interesting banter, as well as good story telling.
In fairness, their ability to sound professional is still a bit suspect as they try and relate to each other and the audiance at the same time. This is something that may grow over time, but is essentially the one major drawback to the show. It is my opinion that you wouldn't want them to become too professional, as the sound of the show is that of a couple just sort of hanging out and discussing whatever comes up. It is somewhat voyeuristic in that sense, like we are peeping in the kitrchen or living room of two people sitting down, sipping drinks and shooting the monkey poop.
While there are hundreds of shows out there that are similar in style, and possibly even substance, this show is unique in the sense that both hosts are colourful characters. One is an ex street junky turned broadcaster turned social worker, and the other is a hot chick turned bitch on wheels.
Certainly there is room for improvement, but when you consider that they have only done two shows together at the writing of this review, I would say thye are on the right track and this is a show well worth the time. Think of it this way, getting in on the ground floor makes sense. If these two become gigantic stars and move to Florida as thye dream, we may never get the chance to hear the likes of them again any time soon.
One Monkey Toy.
This week it is all about the jedi baby. I have been immersed int the adventures of Starkiller and thus I cannot help but search for some star wars toys. The journey started off by me looking for a religion that would satisfy my spiritual needs. I tumbled accross the Jedi Chruch. A real religion based around the philosophy of the jedi. This path led me to this weeks toy.
If you are going to worship at the church of the jedi, then you are going to need to have the right outfit. That is where the toy comes in. This website is your one stop shop for everything jedi. You can get yourself some robes, the tunic, and the boots. One must not forget the wonderful boots. You can also pick up a cool lightsaber to complete the ensemble.
And hey, if being a jedi is not the way for you, no worries, they also have Han Solo, Jango/Bona Fett and even leia wigs. The only dissapointment is the lack of Leia bakini, but a fella can dream.
If you need to be a jedi, I mean really really need to be a jedi, then force jump over to jedi-robe.com. They have this weeks monkey toys!
You Tube Video of the Week.
The cool among you may recognize Jeff Lewis as the main character here. He is one of the stars of The Guild, a ground breaking internet series created by the most beautiful woman in the world. The real astute amongst you may even recognize Lois Griffin.
Jeff Lewis has a number of these videos, and the are all great.
Wrap Party
So that is the week that was in monkey land. Going to be recording the next pod tonight and looking forward to it. A lot of star wars this week, hopefully less next week, but you never know, I ma a geek.
As per usual, email us, comment, throw smelly stuff at us, whatever, just let us know your thoughts, and maybe we will even listen.
Ta Ta for now.....oh goddammit no wonder women think I am gay!
A light week this week in the world of monkeying around. This week was all about the begining of the podcast. The first podcast is a sort of getting to know you, getting to know all about you thing where Alley and I discuss sex ed, bad food, and other foolishly personal things. The Second podcast was an interruption to my day. Alley decided we needed to discuss Rebecca Black and the worst song ever! We decided to go back to the wold school writting thing and I, Monkey wrote about being unaware of who to be and the fact that I am not gay, not that there is anything wrong with that.
Monkey Messages
When you bite your nails out of nervousness, only the uick you will find, never the answer. - Me.
Don't go around saying the world owes you a living. The world owes you nothing. It was here first.- Mark Twain
Life is a great big canvas, and you should throw all the paint on it you can. - Danny Kaye
If there's one thing I've learned, it's that life is one crushing defeat after another until you just wish Flanders was dead. - Homer Simpson
Death is not the end. There remains the litigation over the estate.- Ambrose Bierce
The Musical Interlude
Queen - I Want It All A real classic rocky thing. Reminds me of 80's rock, and prooves that it doesn't have to suck. There is always something melodic and classical about their work, and this is a great example. A song about rising above.
Nirvana - Pennyroyal Tea A rare dose of Nirvana in the middle of the week, but I was so damn tired this was the only thing that was going to get me through the day. A haunting performance from one of their final live shows, this is a song about all the bad shit that plagues the tortured soul.
Dropkick Murphys - Shipping Up To Boston Sometimes I just want to go to Boston and blow things up. A little late for Patty's day, but some celtic pride anyway.
Rage Against The Machine - Know Your Enemy I had considerable rage that day and needed a bit of Rage to bleed it out. You can always count on Rage to help you through anger, rage, hate, jealousy. Sometimes perspective is everything.
Weekly Nirvana
A pleasant tune off of Incesticide. I do pitty the fool.
Podcast of the Week.
As if there was any doubt, this week's review is completely self serving, and presented without shame. I am reviewing our podcast! That's right, one monkey media decided to begin posting their very own weekly podcast. The stars of the show are Chris Parker and Alley, and their banter, while still a bit stilted is somewhat entertaining.
It's clear that these two know each other well and can push each other's buttons. This can make for some interesting banter, as well as good story telling.
In fairness, their ability to sound professional is still a bit suspect as they try and relate to each other and the audiance at the same time. This is something that may grow over time, but is essentially the one major drawback to the show. It is my opinion that you wouldn't want them to become too professional, as the sound of the show is that of a couple just sort of hanging out and discussing whatever comes up. It is somewhat voyeuristic in that sense, like we are peeping in the kitrchen or living room of two people sitting down, sipping drinks and shooting the monkey poop.
While there are hundreds of shows out there that are similar in style, and possibly even substance, this show is unique in the sense that both hosts are colourful characters. One is an ex street junky turned broadcaster turned social worker, and the other is a hot chick turned bitch on wheels.
Certainly there is room for improvement, but when you consider that they have only done two shows together at the writing of this review, I would say thye are on the right track and this is a show well worth the time. Think of it this way, getting in on the ground floor makes sense. If these two become gigantic stars and move to Florida as thye dream, we may never get the chance to hear the likes of them again any time soon.
One Monkey Toy.
This week it is all about the jedi baby. I have been immersed int the adventures of Starkiller and thus I cannot help but search for some star wars toys. The journey started off by me looking for a religion that would satisfy my spiritual needs. I tumbled accross the Jedi Chruch. A real religion based around the philosophy of the jedi. This path led me to this weeks toy.
If you are going to worship at the church of the jedi, then you are going to need to have the right outfit. That is where the toy comes in. This website is your one stop shop for everything jedi. You can get yourself some robes, the tunic, and the boots. One must not forget the wonderful boots. You can also pick up a cool lightsaber to complete the ensemble.
And hey, if being a jedi is not the way for you, no worries, they also have Han Solo, Jango/Bona Fett and even leia wigs. The only dissapointment is the lack of Leia bakini, but a fella can dream.
If you need to be a jedi, I mean really really need to be a jedi, then force jump over to jedi-robe.com. They have this weeks monkey toys!
You Tube Video of the Week.
The cool among you may recognize Jeff Lewis as the main character here. He is one of the stars of The Guild, a ground breaking internet series created by the most beautiful woman in the world. The real astute amongst you may even recognize Lois Griffin.
Jeff Lewis has a number of these videos, and the are all great.
Wrap Party
So that is the week that was in monkey land. Going to be recording the next pod tonight and looking forward to it. A lot of star wars this week, hopefully less next week, but you never know, I ma a geek.
As per usual, email us, comment, throw smelly stuff at us, whatever, just let us know your thoughts, and maybe we will even listen.
Ta Ta for now.....oh goddammit no wonder women think I am gay!
Saturday, March 26, 2011
The Straight Dope
Ojk loyal readers, I suddenly feel it necessary to point something out to you. I am not gay. Seriously, I am not.
Generally I have nothing against people who are gay, they are in fact just people, and it matters little to me who they are sleeping with. I judge people based on their behaviour towards me and the people I care about, and the way they treat others.
Frankly, it works in favour that a few dudes find themselves removed from the possible pool of competition for women. This is a good thing for me, and I wish there were more gay men in the world.
My problem with the situation is that people, mostly women, seem to come to the conclusion that I am gay. This is not working for me at all.
I am not sure the exact reason I come across as gay, but it needs to be ended. It isn't so much that I generally care one way or the other if a person thinks one thing or another about me, unless it is detrimental to my goals. That is when the misconception happens to bother the daylights out of me.
Let me give you a few examples to illustrate my point.
First, there was a time when I found myself living in a beautiful, yet tiny town. There were 5 bars in this town. One was a dance club, another a country bar, another a nice little place right on the water, a strip club and then a pub.
One day, a roommate and I decided we needed a beer. Since we just wanted to grab a beer we decided that the strip club is out. Don't get me wrong, there was a time in my life when I liked going to strip clubs, when I had even frequented the strip club in this town, and was given the phone number of one of the girls. Seriously, I am pretty sure it was her actual number because it had her real name, and I hadn''t asked her for it. Anyway, the point is, going to a strip club is very expensive and usually involves some skank telling you how cute you are, how interesting you are, then grinding up against you for 20 bucks a song until you have to go home, two hundred bucks poorer, to jack off.
Neither of us can dance. Neither of us were interested in a romantic moonlit drink by the bay, and neither of us liked country music. Thus we ended up at the pub. Now, upstairs at this pub was a greta little lounge. They served high end scotch, Guinness and played alternative music. I do not mean Eddie Vedder, I mean that shit people play to seem sophisticated. Stuff with an acoustic guitar and a tortured poet singing that no one understands but everyone likes to think they are cool for listening to it. Hipster alternative. A great place for two classy gents out on the town to get themselves a quiet drink. One drink led to another, and before you knew it we were downstairs in the pub section cheering on Manchester United or something.
After the game was over I found myself at the bar, sans roommate who had met a lady. Unfortunately this lady didn't have an ugly friend for me to distract, so I was alone. I went and sat down. I started making conversation with the gentleman next to me out of boredom. A decision which, in hindsight, may not have been all that wise. Turns out the man was a 50 year old Russian man there with his 20 year old boyfriend, who was wearing the tightest, shiniest shirt I have ever seen.
Long story short, Russian started touching me, I started hitting on the waitress, she took pit on me and let me escape.
This situation, while uncomfortable was not that big of a deal. I just wish the guy would have gotten the message after I mentioned hgow nice the waitresses boobs were.
Nect example, half the women I know treat me like their gay friend. They take me shopping with them, dish on boys and ask for my opinion on their nails. I know this is my own fault, and I will get in to that later, but it is frustrating to me that they behave this way, mostly because I would like to have sex with some of them, but they think of me as their gay friend, and not so much as the raging testosterone factory of a love machine.
Next example, and last I promise, is that of a recent new arrival in my life. She is a cowworker of sorts and she invited me out to the movies last night. Now, I find her attractive, in a she's ridiculously hot and I am not sort of way. I have to try and respect her because she is my coworkerish. Thus I decided not to hit on her, cause when she turned me down it would be awkward. So we went to the movie, had some fun like time, despite the mediocrity of said flick.
Today she invited me over to her place for a few drinks and to meet some people.
Turns out some people actually meant her gay brother. It became painfully obvious to both her brother and I what was happening. It was essentially a double date. She had her boyfriend and her brother there. I had nothing but me.
It started off fine, until she began playing match maker. She was telling what a big shot her brother was down at the office, and started telling him how smart and sensitive I am.
I am pretty sure the brother figured out I was not gay because he gave me this weak apologetic smile.
I ran to the bathroom.
I then excused myself from the event and slowly made my way home. Of the course of this walk, as I was reflecting on my gayness, she began feverishly texting me. AT first she was mad that I was rude to her brother, and that if I didn't like him I should have been nicer. When I pointed out to her that he was not even close to my type she quickly became apologetic.
Apology not accepted Captain Neda.
Dammit I wish I could force choke!
Anyway, the point is, I was fine with the gay people in these scenarios. The drunk Russian was drunk and a little handsy, but he was just being a guy. The brother seemed sorry for the situation and didn't push it. I am also fine with people like my roommate who thought maybe I should have gotten the Russians number, or with one or two of the women who think I am gay. I am not fine with the women who I wish to wham bam thank you ma'am thinking I am gay.
I have been wondering exactly what it is about me that has them so confused.
I can assure you that prior to college, this was not a mistake made by anyone. Not a single person ever seemed to think the large angry man with the tattoos and military surplus clothing and flannel was gay. Not a single person confused my piercing stare o doom with the longing look of a would be lover.
No one ever misconstrued my talking to them at the bar with me wanting to take them home.
I lived with the same non related male for nearly 8 years and no one ever confused us for a couple. It might have had something to do with the fact that E might have shot them for saying so, or slept with their entire list of female relatives. I was mildly more sedate and would have just boned their mom while they watched.
Something happened to me on the journey of getting clean and finding purpose that leads people to believe I am gay.
I guess it is because my first move with women is to actually listen to them. I think this is a mistake on my part. I should start treating women like chattle, after all, isn't that what straight dudes do?
Ok, I admit I am a bit sensitive. I like to help people and I like to listen. I am good at these things. Somehow this makes me gay because the first move I make is not a cheesey come on.
I have become awkward with women, this is true. I think it is mostly because I actually don't know how to talk to women. I knew how to get girls, there is no doubt about that. I have no idea how to get women, so I just try the sensitive male thing. It works for me because it is not an act. The unfortunate part is that the rate of success is roughly similar to me walking up to women and saying I have a twelve inch tongue and can breathe out mmy ears. 19 out of twenty women will slap me. In my case, being friendly, sensitive to their needs and listening to them results in 19 out of twenty of them thinking I am gay.
Whether true or not, I am just not the crude line guy. I cannot be that guy no matter how hard I try. I am funny, sometimes, and I am smart, sometimes, and I am kind most of the time. It is who I am.
The problem is, women want to be swept off their feet, not treated like gold. When I find a woman I like, I want her to know it because I treat her like a diamond, precious and rare and worth every bit of my time and energy.
This is not a greta way to pick them up. Yes this is how they want to be treated long term, but on the first few dates, they want Mr. Toad's wild ride.
I cannot provide that without trust or comfort. This is why I am the gay friend. I am the gay friend because women want to be treated the way I treat them, just not in the bedroom.
What's that old line, a chef in the kitchen, a mother in the living room and a whore in the bedroom? Same is true of guys. Women seem to want us to club them over the head with our come ons, darg them back to our tents, ravish them, then in the morning we need to be sensitive to their needs and want.
Here's the thing, one person cannot be all of those things. I am not saying that good men, real men aren't good lovers, far from it. Don't believe me? Well then, believe the more famous fat man in an overcoat. He tells us that a sensitive man who cares about you and your needs will ensure your pleasure, cause well what the hell do you think he is about? If he cares about your needs in the living room, office, kitchen, guess what he is going to do in the bedroom?
Maybe the problem doesn't reside with me, but in a way it kind of does. In being the person I am, I can't shake the earth and move mountains until you let me. I can't take what is not mine, and I cannot force you in to the position I want you in. I used ot be able to do that with the girls. Oh it was so easy. They wanted it that way. Tey wanted me to be strong and powerful and callous. But I was taught that women didn't/
Maybe I am wrong, but I would so much rather be right. So, I guess I just have to wait for women to wake up to the possibilities and potential of a person who can please them everywhere. Until then, I guess I am gay.
Generally I have nothing against people who are gay, they are in fact just people, and it matters little to me who they are sleeping with. I judge people based on their behaviour towards me and the people I care about, and the way they treat others.
Frankly, it works in favour that a few dudes find themselves removed from the possible pool of competition for women. This is a good thing for me, and I wish there were more gay men in the world.
My problem with the situation is that people, mostly women, seem to come to the conclusion that I am gay. This is not working for me at all.
I am not sure the exact reason I come across as gay, but it needs to be ended. It isn't so much that I generally care one way or the other if a person thinks one thing or another about me, unless it is detrimental to my goals. That is when the misconception happens to bother the daylights out of me.
Let me give you a few examples to illustrate my point.
First, there was a time when I found myself living in a beautiful, yet tiny town. There were 5 bars in this town. One was a dance club, another a country bar, another a nice little place right on the water, a strip club and then a pub.
One day, a roommate and I decided we needed a beer. Since we just wanted to grab a beer we decided that the strip club is out. Don't get me wrong, there was a time in my life when I liked going to strip clubs, when I had even frequented the strip club in this town, and was given the phone number of one of the girls. Seriously, I am pretty sure it was her actual number because it had her real name, and I hadn''t asked her for it. Anyway, the point is, going to a strip club is very expensive and usually involves some skank telling you how cute you are, how interesting you are, then grinding up against you for 20 bucks a song until you have to go home, two hundred bucks poorer, to jack off.
Neither of us can dance. Neither of us were interested in a romantic moonlit drink by the bay, and neither of us liked country music. Thus we ended up at the pub. Now, upstairs at this pub was a greta little lounge. They served high end scotch, Guinness and played alternative music. I do not mean Eddie Vedder, I mean that shit people play to seem sophisticated. Stuff with an acoustic guitar and a tortured poet singing that no one understands but everyone likes to think they are cool for listening to it. Hipster alternative. A great place for two classy gents out on the town to get themselves a quiet drink. One drink led to another, and before you knew it we were downstairs in the pub section cheering on Manchester United or something.
After the game was over I found myself at the bar, sans roommate who had met a lady. Unfortunately this lady didn't have an ugly friend for me to distract, so I was alone. I went and sat down. I started making conversation with the gentleman next to me out of boredom. A decision which, in hindsight, may not have been all that wise. Turns out the man was a 50 year old Russian man there with his 20 year old boyfriend, who was wearing the tightest, shiniest shirt I have ever seen.
Long story short, Russian started touching me, I started hitting on the waitress, she took pit on me and let me escape.
This situation, while uncomfortable was not that big of a deal. I just wish the guy would have gotten the message after I mentioned hgow nice the waitresses boobs were.
Nect example, half the women I know treat me like their gay friend. They take me shopping with them, dish on boys and ask for my opinion on their nails. I know this is my own fault, and I will get in to that later, but it is frustrating to me that they behave this way, mostly because I would like to have sex with some of them, but they think of me as their gay friend, and not so much as the raging testosterone factory of a love machine.
Next example, and last I promise, is that of a recent new arrival in my life. She is a cowworker of sorts and she invited me out to the movies last night. Now, I find her attractive, in a she's ridiculously hot and I am not sort of way. I have to try and respect her because she is my coworkerish. Thus I decided not to hit on her, cause when she turned me down it would be awkward. So we went to the movie, had some fun like time, despite the mediocrity of said flick.
Today she invited me over to her place for a few drinks and to meet some people.
Turns out some people actually meant her gay brother. It became painfully obvious to both her brother and I what was happening. It was essentially a double date. She had her boyfriend and her brother there. I had nothing but me.
It started off fine, until she began playing match maker. She was telling what a big shot her brother was down at the office, and started telling him how smart and sensitive I am.
I am pretty sure the brother figured out I was not gay because he gave me this weak apologetic smile.
I ran to the bathroom.
I then excused myself from the event and slowly made my way home. Of the course of this walk, as I was reflecting on my gayness, she began feverishly texting me. AT first she was mad that I was rude to her brother, and that if I didn't like him I should have been nicer. When I pointed out to her that he was not even close to my type she quickly became apologetic.
Apology not accepted Captain Neda.
Dammit I wish I could force choke!
Anyway, the point is, I was fine with the gay people in these scenarios. The drunk Russian was drunk and a little handsy, but he was just being a guy. The brother seemed sorry for the situation and didn't push it. I am also fine with people like my roommate who thought maybe I should have gotten the Russians number, or with one or two of the women who think I am gay. I am not fine with the women who I wish to wham bam thank you ma'am thinking I am gay.
I have been wondering exactly what it is about me that has them so confused.
I can assure you that prior to college, this was not a mistake made by anyone. Not a single person ever seemed to think the large angry man with the tattoos and military surplus clothing and flannel was gay. Not a single person confused my piercing stare o doom with the longing look of a would be lover.
No one ever misconstrued my talking to them at the bar with me wanting to take them home.
I lived with the same non related male for nearly 8 years and no one ever confused us for a couple. It might have had something to do with the fact that E might have shot them for saying so, or slept with their entire list of female relatives. I was mildly more sedate and would have just boned their mom while they watched.
Something happened to me on the journey of getting clean and finding purpose that leads people to believe I am gay.
I guess it is because my first move with women is to actually listen to them. I think this is a mistake on my part. I should start treating women like chattle, after all, isn't that what straight dudes do?
Ok, I admit I am a bit sensitive. I like to help people and I like to listen. I am good at these things. Somehow this makes me gay because the first move I make is not a cheesey come on.
I have become awkward with women, this is true. I think it is mostly because I actually don't know how to talk to women. I knew how to get girls, there is no doubt about that. I have no idea how to get women, so I just try the sensitive male thing. It works for me because it is not an act. The unfortunate part is that the rate of success is roughly similar to me walking up to women and saying I have a twelve inch tongue and can breathe out mmy ears. 19 out of twenty women will slap me. In my case, being friendly, sensitive to their needs and listening to them results in 19 out of twenty of them thinking I am gay.
Whether true or not, I am just not the crude line guy. I cannot be that guy no matter how hard I try. I am funny, sometimes, and I am smart, sometimes, and I am kind most of the time. It is who I am.
The problem is, women want to be swept off their feet, not treated like gold. When I find a woman I like, I want her to know it because I treat her like a diamond, precious and rare and worth every bit of my time and energy.
This is not a greta way to pick them up. Yes this is how they want to be treated long term, but on the first few dates, they want Mr. Toad's wild ride.
I cannot provide that without trust or comfort. This is why I am the gay friend. I am the gay friend because women want to be treated the way I treat them, just not in the bedroom.
What's that old line, a chef in the kitchen, a mother in the living room and a whore in the bedroom? Same is true of guys. Women seem to want us to club them over the head with our come ons, darg them back to our tents, ravish them, then in the morning we need to be sensitive to their needs and want.
Here's the thing, one person cannot be all of those things. I am not saying that good men, real men aren't good lovers, far from it. Don't believe me? Well then, believe the more famous fat man in an overcoat. He tells us that a sensitive man who cares about you and your needs will ensure your pleasure, cause well what the hell do you think he is about? If he cares about your needs in the living room, office, kitchen, guess what he is going to do in the bedroom?
Maybe the problem doesn't reside with me, but in a way it kind of does. In being the person I am, I can't shake the earth and move mountains until you let me. I can't take what is not mine, and I cannot force you in to the position I want you in. I used ot be able to do that with the girls. Oh it was so easy. They wanted it that way. Tey wanted me to be strong and powerful and callous. But I was taught that women didn't/
Maybe I am wrong, but I would so much rather be right. So, I guess I just have to wait for women to wake up to the possibilities and potential of a person who can please them everywhere. Until then, I guess I am gay.
Wednesday, March 23, 2011
Create New Smart Playlist
It occured to me that I am a music geek. I say this with all sincerity and esteem. I am proud of the fact that I am a music geek, and not a music nerd.
I bet you are wondering what the difference betweeen the two is. I will tell you since you asked so nicely. The difference is that a music nerd knows the most obscure bands and artists to ever play a wirly wizzit concert on the third Sunday of a Month where it didn't rain in London while three lions were killed in Africa by Poachers during the festival of Shimshammery in Vegas. The answer by the way, I had to look this up, is New Riders of the Purple Sage. (that is the only joke I have ever told that only my step dad would find funny).
A geek is just a guy who really likes music, uses it to alter moods, and takes pride in having an eclectic mix of music most people have heard of. Headstone notwithstanding.
I noticed today that I in fact have a playlist for just about every occasion. I have a playlist for when it is raining outside, for when I am cleaning, for when I am playing baseball on the ps3, for when I am killing people with lightsabers, for when I am writing, for when I am masturbating...er uhmmm did I typoe that last one out loud? Ok so not quite every occasion, but for most of them anyway.
I even have a playlist for when I am talking to certain people, Like Alley for instance. I have a number of songs which I play in order to remind myself that I am a tough no nonsense dude who cannot be pushed around. I generally need this music because she emasculates me on a regular basis. "I think you just suck at that game."
This I think is what can establish my bonefides as a music geek.
I am also one of those people that likes to think he is a smooth talker. Not in the way that allows a person to talk women out of their panties, or men out of their checkbooks, but in the way that I can control the flow of a conversation and generally the tone thereof and effect others emotional states.
I have this sort of set of mental iTunes playlists for when a certain line of discussion is needed. I have several of them and am able to scroll through them generally faster than my crappy laptop can scroll through my list of downloaded porn.
This is a handy thing to have in case you find yourself in a conversation about thermall nuclear war for example. You are able to scroll either to your playlist that is about Mathew Broderick movies or the one you reserve for talking to people who live in the 80's. There is some overlap of those two playlists.
Sometimes, but rarely, I am stuck without a playlist, either a musical one or a mental talk file one. Last night I found myself in this very situation. I could not access cheesy song lyrics or witty banter, and it frustrated the bedazzle out of me.
Have you ever been in as position where you are flipping through possible relevant lists but not finding the one you are looking for?
I was in that situation. Concerned friend didn't seem to fit. The rise and fall of the Byzintine Empire didn't seem to fit. Creepy sex guy didn't seem to fit. Desperate to please guy didn't seem to fit.
For the first time in a long time, my list of convo themes wass as useless to me as my music playlists at Marlee Matlin's birthday party. (OMG! He just made fun of that sexy deaf woman who plays every single sexy deaf woman role ever on television and in movies, can we laugh or should we boo? We should realise we are now stuck in a Wil Wheatonesque parenthetical which may never end, all because political correctness has led us astray, make it stop, for the love of all that is sacred in this world why won't it...). I wanted to be supportive friend, and I wanted to also be celebratory guy. It is rarely in my nature to celebrate the misfortune of others, unless someone is being hit in the groin by a baby, but sometimes their misfortune is my gain.
The situation can only lead to something good for me. Whether it is my Florida dream, more weird telephone calls, or less bitching about life, something good is going to come of this, and I feel guilty for being happy.
I know that I am sometimes the guy that is relied upon to make others feel good about their lot in life, be it by being the prime example of how not to life, or by smooth talking with the wisdom from my extensive playlist. I genuinely feel bad that all I could offer was an ear. I know sometimes that is good, but dammit, I am better than that.
I couldn't even find an appropriate song because there was none required for the emotional state of being. I was more useless than I have ever been.
In some ways, I think it was because I had no idea what was expected of me. I wasn't sure what my roll was, nor what to expect in return. It seems odd to say that, but it was one of those things where a nything could come out of my mouth, and some of it very ungood. My instincts were shot and I had no idea where I was. I was out and about without my gps.
In my younger days, when I was first doing the whole broadcasting thing, I used to carry around this cd case in my briefcase. The cd case had 100 cd's in it. I called it my bag of tricks because no matter what kind of producttion emergency I found myself in, I could find a solution inside that cd case. If one needed a rockin tune about boobs, I had acdc, if one needed frank Sinatra, for what I am not sure, I had that. There were wizzes and wooshies, dzzzts and zooms. Shabang and Classical guitar. It was legendary in some very very small circles.
In some equally small but slightly different circles, I am a go to guy for heads up conversation, but something has happened to me of late. I am all locked up and simply not functioning properly. I have tried banging on the overhead circuitry ala Han Solo in Empire but it hasn't had the desired effect.
I think I require something more drastic.
I think I require a hug and a henderson!
I bet you are wondering what the difference betweeen the two is. I will tell you since you asked so nicely. The difference is that a music nerd knows the most obscure bands and artists to ever play a wirly wizzit concert on the third Sunday of a Month where it didn't rain in London while three lions were killed in Africa by Poachers during the festival of Shimshammery in Vegas. The answer by the way, I had to look this up, is New Riders of the Purple Sage. (that is the only joke I have ever told that only my step dad would find funny).
A geek is just a guy who really likes music, uses it to alter moods, and takes pride in having an eclectic mix of music most people have heard of. Headstone notwithstanding.
I noticed today that I in fact have a playlist for just about every occasion. I have a playlist for when it is raining outside, for when I am cleaning, for when I am playing baseball on the ps3, for when I am killing people with lightsabers, for when I am writing, for when I am masturbating...er uhmmm did I typoe that last one out loud? Ok so not quite every occasion, but for most of them anyway.
I even have a playlist for when I am talking to certain people, Like Alley for instance. I have a number of songs which I play in order to remind myself that I am a tough no nonsense dude who cannot be pushed around. I generally need this music because she emasculates me on a regular basis. "I think you just suck at that game."
This I think is what can establish my bonefides as a music geek.
I am also one of those people that likes to think he is a smooth talker. Not in the way that allows a person to talk women out of their panties, or men out of their checkbooks, but in the way that I can control the flow of a conversation and generally the tone thereof and effect others emotional states.
I have this sort of set of mental iTunes playlists for when a certain line of discussion is needed. I have several of them and am able to scroll through them generally faster than my crappy laptop can scroll through my list of downloaded porn.
This is a handy thing to have in case you find yourself in a conversation about thermall nuclear war for example. You are able to scroll either to your playlist that is about Mathew Broderick movies or the one you reserve for talking to people who live in the 80's. There is some overlap of those two playlists.
Sometimes, but rarely, I am stuck without a playlist, either a musical one or a mental talk file one. Last night I found myself in this very situation. I could not access cheesy song lyrics or witty banter, and it frustrated the bedazzle out of me.
Have you ever been in as position where you are flipping through possible relevant lists but not finding the one you are looking for?
I was in that situation. Concerned friend didn't seem to fit. The rise and fall of the Byzintine Empire didn't seem to fit. Creepy sex guy didn't seem to fit. Desperate to please guy didn't seem to fit.
For the first time in a long time, my list of convo themes wass as useless to me as my music playlists at Marlee Matlin's birthday party. (OMG! He just made fun of that sexy deaf woman who plays every single sexy deaf woman role ever on television and in movies, can we laugh or should we boo? We should realise we are now stuck in a Wil Wheatonesque parenthetical which may never end, all because political correctness has led us astray, make it stop, for the love of all that is sacred in this world why won't it...). I wanted to be supportive friend, and I wanted to also be celebratory guy. It is rarely in my nature to celebrate the misfortune of others, unless someone is being hit in the groin by a baby, but sometimes their misfortune is my gain.
The situation can only lead to something good for me. Whether it is my Florida dream, more weird telephone calls, or less bitching about life, something good is going to come of this, and I feel guilty for being happy.
I know that I am sometimes the guy that is relied upon to make others feel good about their lot in life, be it by being the prime example of how not to life, or by smooth talking with the wisdom from my extensive playlist. I genuinely feel bad that all I could offer was an ear. I know sometimes that is good, but dammit, I am better than that.
I couldn't even find an appropriate song because there was none required for the emotional state of being. I was more useless than I have ever been.
In some ways, I think it was because I had no idea what was expected of me. I wasn't sure what my roll was, nor what to expect in return. It seems odd to say that, but it was one of those things where a nything could come out of my mouth, and some of it very ungood. My instincts were shot and I had no idea where I was. I was out and about without my gps.
In my younger days, when I was first doing the whole broadcasting thing, I used to carry around this cd case in my briefcase. The cd case had 100 cd's in it. I called it my bag of tricks because no matter what kind of producttion emergency I found myself in, I could find a solution inside that cd case. If one needed a rockin tune about boobs, I had acdc, if one needed frank Sinatra, for what I am not sure, I had that. There were wizzes and wooshies, dzzzts and zooms. Shabang and Classical guitar. It was legendary in some very very small circles.
In some equally small but slightly different circles, I am a go to guy for heads up conversation, but something has happened to me of late. I am all locked up and simply not functioning properly. I have tried banging on the overhead circuitry ala Han Solo in Empire but it hasn't had the desired effect.
I think I require something more drastic.
I think I require a hug and a henderson!
Tuesday, March 22, 2011
Emergency Monkey Cast Network
I am well aware that the plan was for our podcast to be a weekly thing, in fact bandwidth says it should be, however, last night I got a frantic IM from the Monkey Tamer, this was the result of that IM.
You can download the mp3 here.
Things You should know:
1. If you are daring, you may test the boundaries of your patience by checking out the video that we are discussing.
2. Here is that Blog Post about the chilean miners.
3. I am still way in to lists.
4. Jonathan Coulton is still way cool for providing permission to use his tunes.
5. Mandy Moore is hot.
6. I still like the word uhmm.
7. You need to send me 5 thousand dollars, and we all get to see some Nude Alley!
I did not get a chance to work out some of the technical glitches, and my cohost felt the need to do the dishes while talking here, so there are some sound quality issues, but nothing to ruin the enjoyment of it.
As always, if you have something to say, make sure you say it, either in the comments section or send us an email.
onemonkeymedia@gmail.com
alleythemonkeytamer@gmail.com
you can also find us on facebook and twitter, cause we do that sort of thing.
You can download the mp3 here.
Things You should know:
1. If you are daring, you may test the boundaries of your patience by checking out the video that we are discussing.
2. Here is that Blog Post about the chilean miners.
3. I am still way in to lists.
4. Jonathan Coulton is still way cool for providing permission to use his tunes.
5. Mandy Moore is hot.
6. I still like the word uhmm.
7. You need to send me 5 thousand dollars, and we all get to see some Nude Alley!
I did not get a chance to work out some of the technical glitches, and my cohost felt the need to do the dishes while talking here, so there are some sound quality issues, but nothing to ruin the enjoyment of it.
As always, if you have something to say, make sure you say it, either in the comments section or send us an email.
onemonkeymedia@gmail.com
alleythemonkeytamer@gmail.com
you can also find us on facebook and twitter, cause we do that sort of thing.
Monday, March 21, 2011
Podcast s01e01
Here we go ya'll. Despite my better judgement, I present to you the first amazing podcast of One Monkey Media!
Or download the MP3 Here for play in your mp3 player, or whatever.
Some things you should know.
1. It will get better.
2. Like an amateur, I forgot to mention that all the fabulous music you will hear is from the mind of one Jonathan Coulton. In this podcast you heard our intro music, called I Feel Fantastic, and the piece at the end is geek culture 101 stuff called re: Your Brains.
3. While we probably don't cross the tasteless barrier too much, there is dirty words and some content is not recommended for children.
4. We discuss, credit cards, sex, colouring books, eating bad food, the fact that Alley is a Sith.....errr and fried cheesecake.
5. I still love making lists.
6. The first two pods are about character development. This one was about the monkey, the next one will be all about the chick!
7. I sound stoned, but am not.
8. I like to say uhm a lot.
Enjoy our first stab at internet immortality, and please leave a comment (you do not have to sign up to leave a comment) to let us know how crazy cool we are.
You can also email us.
onemonkeymedia@gmail.com
alleythemonkeytamer@gmail.com
Yeah yeah yeah, I am working on getting it right in itunes for you lazy people.
Or download the MP3 Here for play in your mp3 player, or whatever.
Some things you should know.
1. It will get better.
2. Like an amateur, I forgot to mention that all the fabulous music you will hear is from the mind of one Jonathan Coulton. In this podcast you heard our intro music, called I Feel Fantastic, and the piece at the end is geek culture 101 stuff called re: Your Brains.
3. While we probably don't cross the tasteless barrier too much, there is dirty words and some content is not recommended for children.
4. We discuss, credit cards, sex, colouring books, eating bad food, the fact that Alley is a Sith.....errr and fried cheesecake.
5. I still love making lists.
6. The first two pods are about character development. This one was about the monkey, the next one will be all about the chick!
7. I sound stoned, but am not.
8. I like to say uhm a lot.
Enjoy our first stab at internet immortality, and please leave a comment (you do not have to sign up to leave a comment) to let us know how crazy cool we are.
You can also email us.
onemonkeymedia@gmail.com
alleythemonkeytamer@gmail.com
Yeah yeah yeah, I am working on getting it right in itunes for you lazy people.
Sunday, March 20, 2011
One Monkey Week Mar 14-20
One Week of Blogs in One Paragraph
I started out the week discussing my first romance with an actual female human. I then begged for your help, by asking you to send me ideas. In an effort to not do any actual writing, I decided it would be prudent to inform everyone of the impending podcast as well as all the changes that have been made to the blog. Hint: Look to the right. I then moved in to discussing myself, I know, how original. I did so by discussing my flirtation with broadcasting and how I first became involved with the process of making cool stuff come out of the magic box. I rounded out the week with a short piece of fiction....sort of. I recently attempted the cold turket stopage of tobacco consumption. This dark piece is the result.
Monkey Messages
Risk! Risk anything! Care no more for the opinion of others. Do the hardest thing on earth for you. Act for yourself. Face the truth.- Katherine Mansfield
Don't take life too seriously; you'll never get out of it alive.- Elbert Hubbard
Live as if you were to die tomorrow. Learn as if you were to live forever. - Mahatma Gandhi
When you jump for joy, beware that no one moves the ground from beneath your feet.- Stanislaw J. Lec
I want to keep fighting because it is the only thing that keeps me out of the hamburger joints. If I don't fight, I'll eat this planet.- George Foreman
The Musical Interlude
It would appear that I failed to post songs everyday this week. For shame monkey, for shame.
Finger Eleven - I'll Keep Your Memory Vague A sad melancholic song about lost love. Give me a break, I had just written about a woman I loved dieing. Sometimes I wish I could keep her memory vague.
Puddle of Mudd - She Hates Me Self explanatory. Unrequitted love. Not sure why I was thinking of this song, but it really is the guy version of all those sad pop songs. I like the anger element.
R.E.M. - End of The World I know this is kind of in poor taste if you are Japanese, but since I am not, it is just a statement about me podcasting with Alley. Seriously, nothing will be the same again. Sad insight to my brain incoming. Not to mention you get to see, errr hear, me get my ass handed to me weekly by a short person.
Weekly Nirvana
A deep cut off that album with the naked baby chasing the dollar bill.
Seriously, addiction, be it to heroin, smokes, people, attention or dollar bills sucks.
Podcast of The Week
This week I decided to tell you about how geeky I truly am. This week I am telling you about Jesse Thorn and Jordan Morris' little project; Jordan, Jesse, GO!
The reason this makes me a geek is that it is a podcasters podcast. This is not for the feint of heart, or the dabbler in podcasts. It is truly a snobbery of podcastery.
The hosts started out on public radio, and brought their brand of comedy and music to podcasting. Jesse Thorn also hosts a show called The Sound of Young America, which is an eclectic mix of infotainment about those things that are supposed to appeal to semi-educated people in their twenties.
Jordan, Jesse, Go! is sort of a natural extension to that program. This podcast is more of a conversation between two friends about what they find funny, and or entertaining. To that end, they have fantastic guests (some of which you have heard about, and some of which you should really pay more attention to) and tend to discuss their own interests in entertainment.
While the hosts tend towards being elitists in their views of what should be entertainment, they do it in an amiable fashion, and rather than come accross as snobs, they just come accross as discerning and well intentioned.
Both are very funny, with Jesse Thorn tending towards more of the straight man, while Jordan Morris takes on a bit more of a wild man persona. The chemistry between the two frriends is undeniable, and creates great bits where one builds off of the other in a classic game of trying to out funny each other.
While you might find some greta insights to entertainment, you are not going to find a home here if you are in to nickleback, pink, the black eyed peas, or anything that might be considered commercial. This is the kind of show that would call the Kings Of Leon sell out commercial pablum.
If you enjoy comedy, and learning about some of the people who are truly the creative minds behind some of entertainment's big hits or more popular shows, then this is the place for you. One week you may hear from a staff writer on SNL, the next from a comic you may not know, but will find hilarious.
I reccomend this podcast to anyone who feels like they have a discerning taste in entertainment. It is truly the pop culture show for the sub pop crowd of semi to fully educated people.
A word of caution though. While by no means an explicit podcast, the hosts have been known to swear and mention dirty sex stuff, but you know, in a classy way....
One Monkey Toy
MLB2k11
Did anyone think I would pass this up? I thought not. If you are in to video games, this is a pretty good one. If you are in to baseball, this is a necessity. The chance to make it the the show, to win a world series is just to much to pass up. It has all the features you expect from a sports game. You can create your own player, make a new team, build your own roster, trade, sign the big free agent and even cheat.
I myself am too poor to have the latest version, so I am still playing 2k10, but I can tell you there is a tremendous amount of fun to be had.
The MLB today feature also allows you to connect to the server and get real time updates of the actual major leagues.
If you have the man danglers, you can also play online against others.
The only trouble you might have is the one I have, which team to be? Who am I going to lead to the promised land of championships, fast women and loose cars!
Wrap Party
There you have it, the week that was according to one monkey. Be sure to check back here tomorrow for the first podcast...oh that reminds me, I want to give a special shout out to Jonathan Coulton. This guy is a fantastic artist and his support of independent new media is heart warming to say the least. The man has given us permission to use his music... at least for now, and we intend to make the most of it. Other stuff coming up this week may include my incarceration for nic fit related crimes, a discussion of the fall out from Japan, another story of my pathetic life, and maybe even another piece of scintalating fiction.
Be sure to friend us on facebook and follow us on twitter. Big things a coming people, get on board now while I still care about you!
Speaking of caring about you, I welcome your comments and suggestions. Is there something you want more of? Less of? Would like to see? Let me know, and I might just do it.
I started out the week discussing my first romance with an actual female human. I then begged for your help, by asking you to send me ideas. In an effort to not do any actual writing, I decided it would be prudent to inform everyone of the impending podcast as well as all the changes that have been made to the blog. Hint: Look to the right. I then moved in to discussing myself, I know, how original. I did so by discussing my flirtation with broadcasting and how I first became involved with the process of making cool stuff come out of the magic box. I rounded out the week with a short piece of fiction....sort of. I recently attempted the cold turket stopage of tobacco consumption. This dark piece is the result.
Monkey Messages
Risk! Risk anything! Care no more for the opinion of others. Do the hardest thing on earth for you. Act for yourself. Face the truth.- Katherine Mansfield
Don't take life too seriously; you'll never get out of it alive.- Elbert Hubbard
Live as if you were to die tomorrow. Learn as if you were to live forever. - Mahatma Gandhi
When you jump for joy, beware that no one moves the ground from beneath your feet.- Stanislaw J. Lec
I want to keep fighting because it is the only thing that keeps me out of the hamburger joints. If I don't fight, I'll eat this planet.- George Foreman
The Musical Interlude
It would appear that I failed to post songs everyday this week. For shame monkey, for shame.
Finger Eleven - I'll Keep Your Memory Vague A sad melancholic song about lost love. Give me a break, I had just written about a woman I loved dieing. Sometimes I wish I could keep her memory vague.
Puddle of Mudd - She Hates Me Self explanatory. Unrequitted love. Not sure why I was thinking of this song, but it really is the guy version of all those sad pop songs. I like the anger element.
R.E.M. - End of The World I know this is kind of in poor taste if you are Japanese, but since I am not, it is just a statement about me podcasting with Alley. Seriously, nothing will be the same again. Sad insight to my brain incoming. Not to mention you get to see, errr hear, me get my ass handed to me weekly by a short person.
Weekly Nirvana
A deep cut off that album with the naked baby chasing the dollar bill.
Seriously, addiction, be it to heroin, smokes, people, attention or dollar bills sucks.
Podcast of The Week
This week I decided to tell you about how geeky I truly am. This week I am telling you about Jesse Thorn and Jordan Morris' little project; Jordan, Jesse, GO!
The reason this makes me a geek is that it is a podcasters podcast. This is not for the feint of heart, or the dabbler in podcasts. It is truly a snobbery of podcastery.
The hosts started out on public radio, and brought their brand of comedy and music to podcasting. Jesse Thorn also hosts a show called The Sound of Young America, which is an eclectic mix of infotainment about those things that are supposed to appeal to semi-educated people in their twenties.
Jordan, Jesse, Go! is sort of a natural extension to that program. This podcast is more of a conversation between two friends about what they find funny, and or entertaining. To that end, they have fantastic guests (some of which you have heard about, and some of which you should really pay more attention to) and tend to discuss their own interests in entertainment.
While the hosts tend towards being elitists in their views of what should be entertainment, they do it in an amiable fashion, and rather than come accross as snobs, they just come accross as discerning and well intentioned.
Both are very funny, with Jesse Thorn tending towards more of the straight man, while Jordan Morris takes on a bit more of a wild man persona. The chemistry between the two frriends is undeniable, and creates great bits where one builds off of the other in a classic game of trying to out funny each other.
While you might find some greta insights to entertainment, you are not going to find a home here if you are in to nickleback, pink, the black eyed peas, or anything that might be considered commercial. This is the kind of show that would call the Kings Of Leon sell out commercial pablum.
If you enjoy comedy, and learning about some of the people who are truly the creative minds behind some of entertainment's big hits or more popular shows, then this is the place for you. One week you may hear from a staff writer on SNL, the next from a comic you may not know, but will find hilarious.
I reccomend this podcast to anyone who feels like they have a discerning taste in entertainment. It is truly the pop culture show for the sub pop crowd of semi to fully educated people.
A word of caution though. While by no means an explicit podcast, the hosts have been known to swear and mention dirty sex stuff, but you know, in a classy way....
One Monkey Toy
MLB2k11
Did anyone think I would pass this up? I thought not. If you are in to video games, this is a pretty good one. If you are in to baseball, this is a necessity. The chance to make it the the show, to win a world series is just to much to pass up. It has all the features you expect from a sports game. You can create your own player, make a new team, build your own roster, trade, sign the big free agent and even cheat.
I myself am too poor to have the latest version, so I am still playing 2k10, but I can tell you there is a tremendous amount of fun to be had.
The MLB today feature also allows you to connect to the server and get real time updates of the actual major leagues.
If you have the man danglers, you can also play online against others.
The only trouble you might have is the one I have, which team to be? Who am I going to lead to the promised land of championships, fast women and loose cars!
Wrap Party
There you have it, the week that was according to one monkey. Be sure to check back here tomorrow for the first podcast...oh that reminds me, I want to give a special shout out to Jonathan Coulton. This guy is a fantastic artist and his support of independent new media is heart warming to say the least. The man has given us permission to use his music... at least for now, and we intend to make the most of it. Other stuff coming up this week may include my incarceration for nic fit related crimes, a discussion of the fall out from Japan, another story of my pathetic life, and maybe even another piece of scintalating fiction.
Be sure to friend us on facebook and follow us on twitter. Big things a coming people, get on board now while I still care about you!
Speaking of caring about you, I welcome your comments and suggestions. Is there something you want more of? Less of? Would like to see? Let me know, and I might just do it.
Friday, March 18, 2011
Epic Sruggle, or How I Slept Last Night
Standing in the shadowss, the man in black cannot be seen. He may actually be the man in dark grey, but because of the starless night, and the shadowss to which he is currently calling home we can safely call him the man in black. The only sign of his existence, a small smoldering red light and a trail of smoke rising in to the nether spaces above his head.
Smoking is probably the only human thing about this so called man. He has no scruples, no morals, no redeaming factors that you or I might recognize. He makes it work for him though, somehow, some way.
His mind is working at a snail's pace, it always does, whether he is in iminent danger, or relaxedd iin a drugged state. Again, he manages to make this work for him. He is not rich, but he gets by. He has simple tastes that money rarely can buy. They are suffering to us, but to him they are the proof that he is alive, and the proof that he has power over others.
Despite the fact he has little need for the finer things in life, he does need money. Money is that which moves this world, and even an inhuman monster like this man in black requires some of it.
He needs enough money to survive, who knows for how long, as he does not plan in advance. He merely ios, and tomorrow will merely show up, maybe. That might actually be the most inhuman part of his existance. Unlike the rest of us, he has no plan for the future; no designs for a better life. He has no future, because he has learned that the only thing you can rely on is the here and now. He has seen too many people obliterateed with a smile on their face because of the promise of tomorrow to be bopthered with tomorrow. He knows it may never come.
His slow mind is picturing the next few minutes; the edge of the future for him. He can see what he needs to do, where he needs to go, and how he needs to get there.
Slowly the smoldering red light is let go. It tumbles end over end to the ground, where a dark boot crushes the life out of it.
In front of the man in black is a large wooden staircase. It is a wooden fire escape. In a certain way, this amuses the man in black. Who makes a fire escape out of the one material that is most likely to burn first in a fire? A smile momentarily flashes accross his gaunt face as he pictures another man, a random, barely corporeal man running down the tairs, attempting in vein to out run the fire chasing him. The consuming flames eating through the path to the fake man. The fake man unable to gain the necessary speed to outrun the lflames. His dying scream cascades accross the imagination of the man in black, leaving behind it the echo of self satisfaction and pleasure that only other people's pain can with a man like this.
Slowly, the man in black places his dark booted foot on the first step. He is testing the fire escape. Testing it's noise creation properties. He is testing it's value as an ascension device to his goal.
His goal is the top apartment. His goal is whatever value can be found inside that apartment. His goal is fun.
With ease and determination, the man in black begins the up hill climb to his destination. He quickly learns that the fire eascape is not sturdy, not stead. It sways slightly under his slight weight.
Inside the apartment, the other man, the intended victim stirs slightly in a fitfull sleep. This man is the polar opposite of the man currently snaking his way towards a confrontation. This man is wearing guy pajamas. In this case, boxer shorts and an aframe tshirt. Both are white. Both are clean.
The man in white is slumbering because he has things to do tomorrow. He has a plan. He has a future.
The man in black hsa reached the top step, a slight breeze ruffling the fabric of his hoodie. Slowly the man reaches out his gloved hand to test the nob. He is not surprised to find it locked. His target isn't completely stupid. He quickly changes his mind on that subject. The door has a window in the middle of it. The window is open, and the only thing between the man in black and the sweet contents of this other man's life is a cheep screen.
A flash of steel later and the screen is disintegrated.
The man in white stirs again. He is too warm, wrapped in just a sheet. He wishes he understood why the world was so warm. Maybe it has something to do with his weight, maybe it has something to do with his youth, maybe it has something to do with nothing. All he knows is that he needs to windows open all the time so he can sleep, otherwise the heat of living in an insulated box is just too oppressive.
The man in black is in, allowed in by the necessities of life for the man in white.
Darkness moves slow and cat like through the apartment. As he goes he is catloguing anything and everything of value. He is adding up the prices he will get for everything, and doing math to decide how much time that will give him. How much life it will buy. Truth is, he is not looking to buy life, he is looking to buy death, but delayed death.
The man in black wants to die, because his life is pain. He lacks the self discipline and the guts to end his own life, so he is attempting to destroy his life. He is attempting to kill himself through food and drink; through smokes and drink; through dangerous living, he hopes to one day just fall apart.
He moves on to the bedroom, where he sees the man in white. He sees what he must do. He will have to silence the man in white. Cripple him so the darkness can provide what he needs with no interferance.
The man in white rolls over on to his back, his breathing laboured. It is clear to the man in black that the man in white has not lived a comfortable life either. For a moment he wonders if their tortures have been similar. This thinking never lasts long. The man in black cares nothing for others.
The man in white is dreaming. It is a fitfull dream, but somewhere deep inside his being, his instincts, honed on the edge of a knife because of a hard life, try and wake him. His gut tells him something is wrong, but he is deep in REM sleep. Deep in a world of his own design that is safe and comforting, and at the same time dark and dangerous. At any point he could slip from pleasant seens of rolling oceans, beatiful women, and easy living, to dark blood drenchedd shores, screaming, pain, destruction.
White man's mind and gut finally manage to get on the same page as the man in black approaches the bedside. The mind attempts to wake the white man. His eyes burst open.
He sees the man in black, recognition dawns on his face,, but his muscles do not react. He is paralysed.
The man in black smiles knowingly. He has seen this before. It is the shock of knowing the future, knowing the pain to come. Few people have the strength to react at this moment. Few people can fight off the man in black when he is standing over them. At this moment the man in black is intent on the white man's possessions. He is intent on his own desires and pleasure. His twisted grin expresses this to the world in such a way that a thousand words could never accomplish.
The man in the white tshirt and boxers screams inside his own head. He struggles to move. His mind sends a million messages of action to his limbs, none of which seem to be getting through.
The man in white knows what is happening. He has been a party to it in the past. The man in black is here for everything he has worked for. He knows the man in black wants not only his possessions, buit he wants to ruin everything. He wants to break the man in white. It is whta he gets off on.
The man in white knows that if he doesn't act now, all will be lost.
Channeling all of his strenght, all of his desire, all of his dreams, the man in white sends one final message to his limbs. His hand moves, his kneck lifts his head up to look the man in black in the eyes.
Maybe this time will be different for both of them.
There's a little poetic prose, if you will. Essentially a giant metaphor. Did I mention I was trying to quit smokeing?
Anyway, there you have it, a little something something to get you through friday night.
Smoking is probably the only human thing about this so called man. He has no scruples, no morals, no redeaming factors that you or I might recognize. He makes it work for him though, somehow, some way.
His mind is working at a snail's pace, it always does, whether he is in iminent danger, or relaxedd iin a drugged state. Again, he manages to make this work for him. He is not rich, but he gets by. He has simple tastes that money rarely can buy. They are suffering to us, but to him they are the proof that he is alive, and the proof that he has power over others.
Despite the fact he has little need for the finer things in life, he does need money. Money is that which moves this world, and even an inhuman monster like this man in black requires some of it.
He needs enough money to survive, who knows for how long, as he does not plan in advance. He merely ios, and tomorrow will merely show up, maybe. That might actually be the most inhuman part of his existance. Unlike the rest of us, he has no plan for the future; no designs for a better life. He has no future, because he has learned that the only thing you can rely on is the here and now. He has seen too many people obliterateed with a smile on their face because of the promise of tomorrow to be bopthered with tomorrow. He knows it may never come.
His slow mind is picturing the next few minutes; the edge of the future for him. He can see what he needs to do, where he needs to go, and how he needs to get there.
Slowly the smoldering red light is let go. It tumbles end over end to the ground, where a dark boot crushes the life out of it.
In front of the man in black is a large wooden staircase. It is a wooden fire escape. In a certain way, this amuses the man in black. Who makes a fire escape out of the one material that is most likely to burn first in a fire? A smile momentarily flashes accross his gaunt face as he pictures another man, a random, barely corporeal man running down the tairs, attempting in vein to out run the fire chasing him. The consuming flames eating through the path to the fake man. The fake man unable to gain the necessary speed to outrun the lflames. His dying scream cascades accross the imagination of the man in black, leaving behind it the echo of self satisfaction and pleasure that only other people's pain can with a man like this.
Slowly, the man in black places his dark booted foot on the first step. He is testing the fire escape. Testing it's noise creation properties. He is testing it's value as an ascension device to his goal.
His goal is the top apartment. His goal is whatever value can be found inside that apartment. His goal is fun.
With ease and determination, the man in black begins the up hill climb to his destination. He quickly learns that the fire eascape is not sturdy, not stead. It sways slightly under his slight weight.
Inside the apartment, the other man, the intended victim stirs slightly in a fitfull sleep. This man is the polar opposite of the man currently snaking his way towards a confrontation. This man is wearing guy pajamas. In this case, boxer shorts and an aframe tshirt. Both are white. Both are clean.
The man in white is slumbering because he has things to do tomorrow. He has a plan. He has a future.
The man in black hsa reached the top step, a slight breeze ruffling the fabric of his hoodie. Slowly the man reaches out his gloved hand to test the nob. He is not surprised to find it locked. His target isn't completely stupid. He quickly changes his mind on that subject. The door has a window in the middle of it. The window is open, and the only thing between the man in black and the sweet contents of this other man's life is a cheep screen.
A flash of steel later and the screen is disintegrated.
The man in white stirs again. He is too warm, wrapped in just a sheet. He wishes he understood why the world was so warm. Maybe it has something to do with his weight, maybe it has something to do with his youth, maybe it has something to do with nothing. All he knows is that he needs to windows open all the time so he can sleep, otherwise the heat of living in an insulated box is just too oppressive.
The man in black is in, allowed in by the necessities of life for the man in white.
Darkness moves slow and cat like through the apartment. As he goes he is catloguing anything and everything of value. He is adding up the prices he will get for everything, and doing math to decide how much time that will give him. How much life it will buy. Truth is, he is not looking to buy life, he is looking to buy death, but delayed death.
The man in black wants to die, because his life is pain. He lacks the self discipline and the guts to end his own life, so he is attempting to destroy his life. He is attempting to kill himself through food and drink; through smokes and drink; through dangerous living, he hopes to one day just fall apart.
He moves on to the bedroom, where he sees the man in white. He sees what he must do. He will have to silence the man in white. Cripple him so the darkness can provide what he needs with no interferance.
The man in white rolls over on to his back, his breathing laboured. It is clear to the man in black that the man in white has not lived a comfortable life either. For a moment he wonders if their tortures have been similar. This thinking never lasts long. The man in black cares nothing for others.
The man in white is dreaming. It is a fitfull dream, but somewhere deep inside his being, his instincts, honed on the edge of a knife because of a hard life, try and wake him. His gut tells him something is wrong, but he is deep in REM sleep. Deep in a world of his own design that is safe and comforting, and at the same time dark and dangerous. At any point he could slip from pleasant seens of rolling oceans, beatiful women, and easy living, to dark blood drenchedd shores, screaming, pain, destruction.
White man's mind and gut finally manage to get on the same page as the man in black approaches the bedside. The mind attempts to wake the white man. His eyes burst open.
He sees the man in black, recognition dawns on his face,, but his muscles do not react. He is paralysed.
The man in black smiles knowingly. He has seen this before. It is the shock of knowing the future, knowing the pain to come. Few people have the strength to react at this moment. Few people can fight off the man in black when he is standing over them. At this moment the man in black is intent on the white man's possessions. He is intent on his own desires and pleasure. His twisted grin expresses this to the world in such a way that a thousand words could never accomplish.
The man in the white tshirt and boxers screams inside his own head. He struggles to move. His mind sends a million messages of action to his limbs, none of which seem to be getting through.
The man in white knows what is happening. He has been a party to it in the past. The man in black is here for everything he has worked for. He knows the man in black wants not only his possessions, buit he wants to ruin everything. He wants to break the man in white. It is whta he gets off on.
The man in white knows that if he doesn't act now, all will be lost.
Channeling all of his strenght, all of his desire, all of his dreams, the man in white sends one final message to his limbs. His hand moves, his kneck lifts his head up to look the man in black in the eyes.
Maybe this time will be different for both of them.
There's a little poetic prose, if you will. Essentially a giant metaphor. Did I mention I was trying to quit smokeing?
Anyway, there you have it, a little something something to get you through friday night.
Thursday, March 17, 2011
A Story Designed to Keep You In............ Sus....pence
With all of this talk of new media, and jumping on the podcast bandwagon, I can't help but be reminded of my strange affair with broadcasting. Today, I present to you, the elongated, unabridged journey of one boy and his radio.
I remember clearly the ceremony where I was presented with a great radio award. It was sort of the culmination of my work, and everything sort of went down hill from the point on. It was some sort of major, hey you wrote and produced these great things, and we your peers think you are just the bee's knees, or possibly the cat's pajamas, or maybe even the hooker's.....uhmmmm something or other.
I was interviewed for a trade publication after the award and was asked the predictable question. Why did you get in to broadcasting?
It isw one of those expected, inane questions that really requires no thought at all, but since I am not overly bright, I took a few moments to reply. In that time, this is what flew through my head.
Clearly I can remember not wanting to be in the living room with my parents. They would drink and smoke pot and say stupid things, or do things that made me uncomfortable. I needed a place to go so I could be away from them.
It was at that point in my life where toys were having less and less meaning that I discovered something wonderful and magical.
I was routinely breaking in to my uncle's room while my parents drank the night away. My uncle was rarely home, and he was a coke fiend at the time, so he would never really notice anything.
I discovered so many wonders in his room. One of those wonders was a short wave radio. While it had two sw bands, it also had fm and am bands.
I started to play around with the nobs and dials until something incredible happened. I heard hockey. You mustn't misunderestimate the joy this can bring a Canadian boy.
I discovered that there was a place to find hockey games that weren't on the television. This of course neing the dark ages before 24 hour sports networks, when not every game was televised.
What I found out was that while not every game was televised, every game was on the radio. I was over joyed. I started listening every chance I got.
Eventually I realised my clock radio would also pick up these wonderful sounds.
This is when I first fell in love with radio. It would get worse before it got better. As winter gave way to spring, something else happened. Baseball season. Turns out, ever damn baseball game was on the radio. Ever night, and weekend afternoon, I could escape to my room, read a book and listen to the radio. Listen to Tom Cheek and Jerry Howerth, Tom and Jerry, call the blue jays games.
I found refuge. A found a place where I could be myself, and not have to worry about my parents, not have to be frightened. I could enjoy the world of my books, and be entertained at the same time.
Then something even crazier happened.
One Sunday night, I was scanning the dial, looking for something desperately because I couldn't sleep. Then I heard something. Laughter. Bill Cosby. George Carlin. It was the Sunday Funnies on CHUM FM, with that weird dude from the morning show, Rick something. Oh man this was sweet. The best comedians of all time doing some of their signature bits. A whole hour of comedy just for me when I couldn't sleep on a Sunday night. For the first month or two I would fall asleep to Bill Cosby talking about his brother, George Carlin talking about how stupid we all are, Howie Mandel would actually go out on stage and make fun of people.
One week though, it wasn't enough to put me to sleep. I was still wide awake when it was over, and I thought my life was gonna suck. I was going to have to listen to Katrina and the Waves, or some sort Egyptian calisthenics tune.
I was so very wrong.
Right after the funnies came a show called Theater of the Mind. It was old time radio, from back when TV didn't exist. It was the lone ranger, The Shadow, Suspense, The whistler, Mysteries of the Unknown, X Minus 1. And sometimes even the funny ones, like Jack Benny, or some other misogynistic, racist show.
I was enthralled. It truly was theater of the mind. It was my books come to life. I could close my eyes and watch the show. Escape to whole new worlds.
For me, radio became a whole new world. An exciting place of magic, mystery, and appearent wife beatings.....seriously, in the 40's if a woman annoyed you, you could slap her around. I am glad we are not in the 40's.
This was a strange world where there were no parents to make me feel small, no kids to make me feel weak or ashamed of being so disfigured. There were no teachers calling me stupid, no girls laughing at me.
There were funny people to make me laugh. Great athletes to make me Cheer. Wicked men and women to make me jeer. Hot dames. Smooth talking gents. Fast skaters, home run hitters. There were monsters and demons, pussycats and caped avengers.
All of this was being piped in to my head, where I could smile, close my eyes and drift to sleep, confident that I could dream sweet dreams of justice, and peace, where everyone laughed and got the girl.
I never had a nightmare on a Sunday night, I never felt alone on a Saturday afternoon.
Of course, while all of this zoomed through my head, I couldn't say any of it. I couldn't tell her I wanted to be part of the magic box team.
All I said was....
I got in to radio to meet hot chicks.
I am really excited to try and bring some of that magic box to the new technology, so while you may not be jazzed about my podcast, or think it is all that cool, let me tell ya mister, or missy, I am proud to carry on the tradition of making great things come out of the magic box.
I remember clearly the ceremony where I was presented with a great radio award. It was sort of the culmination of my work, and everything sort of went down hill from the point on. It was some sort of major, hey you wrote and produced these great things, and we your peers think you are just the bee's knees, or possibly the cat's pajamas, or maybe even the hooker's.....uhmmmm something or other.
I was interviewed for a trade publication after the award and was asked the predictable question. Why did you get in to broadcasting?
It isw one of those expected, inane questions that really requires no thought at all, but since I am not overly bright, I took a few moments to reply. In that time, this is what flew through my head.
Clearly I can remember not wanting to be in the living room with my parents. They would drink and smoke pot and say stupid things, or do things that made me uncomfortable. I needed a place to go so I could be away from them.
It was at that point in my life where toys were having less and less meaning that I discovered something wonderful and magical.
I was routinely breaking in to my uncle's room while my parents drank the night away. My uncle was rarely home, and he was a coke fiend at the time, so he would never really notice anything.
I discovered so many wonders in his room. One of those wonders was a short wave radio. While it had two sw bands, it also had fm and am bands.
I started to play around with the nobs and dials until something incredible happened. I heard hockey. You mustn't misunderestimate the joy this can bring a Canadian boy.
I discovered that there was a place to find hockey games that weren't on the television. This of course neing the dark ages before 24 hour sports networks, when not every game was televised.
What I found out was that while not every game was televised, every game was on the radio. I was over joyed. I started listening every chance I got.
Eventually I realised my clock radio would also pick up these wonderful sounds.
This is when I first fell in love with radio. It would get worse before it got better. As winter gave way to spring, something else happened. Baseball season. Turns out, ever damn baseball game was on the radio. Ever night, and weekend afternoon, I could escape to my room, read a book and listen to the radio. Listen to Tom Cheek and Jerry Howerth, Tom and Jerry, call the blue jays games.
I found refuge. A found a place where I could be myself, and not have to worry about my parents, not have to be frightened. I could enjoy the world of my books, and be entertained at the same time.
Then something even crazier happened.
One Sunday night, I was scanning the dial, looking for something desperately because I couldn't sleep. Then I heard something. Laughter. Bill Cosby. George Carlin. It was the Sunday Funnies on CHUM FM, with that weird dude from the morning show, Rick something. Oh man this was sweet. The best comedians of all time doing some of their signature bits. A whole hour of comedy just for me when I couldn't sleep on a Sunday night. For the first month or two I would fall asleep to Bill Cosby talking about his brother, George Carlin talking about how stupid we all are, Howie Mandel would actually go out on stage and make fun of people.
One week though, it wasn't enough to put me to sleep. I was still wide awake when it was over, and I thought my life was gonna suck. I was going to have to listen to Katrina and the Waves, or some sort Egyptian calisthenics tune.
I was so very wrong.
Right after the funnies came a show called Theater of the Mind. It was old time radio, from back when TV didn't exist. It was the lone ranger, The Shadow, Suspense, The whistler, Mysteries of the Unknown, X Minus 1. And sometimes even the funny ones, like Jack Benny, or some other misogynistic, racist show.
I was enthralled. It truly was theater of the mind. It was my books come to life. I could close my eyes and watch the show. Escape to whole new worlds.
For me, radio became a whole new world. An exciting place of magic, mystery, and appearent wife beatings.....seriously, in the 40's if a woman annoyed you, you could slap her around. I am glad we are not in the 40's.
This was a strange world where there were no parents to make me feel small, no kids to make me feel weak or ashamed of being so disfigured. There were no teachers calling me stupid, no girls laughing at me.
There were funny people to make me laugh. Great athletes to make me Cheer. Wicked men and women to make me jeer. Hot dames. Smooth talking gents. Fast skaters, home run hitters. There were monsters and demons, pussycats and caped avengers.
All of this was being piped in to my head, where I could smile, close my eyes and drift to sleep, confident that I could dream sweet dreams of justice, and peace, where everyone laughed and got the girl.
I never had a nightmare on a Sunday night, I never felt alone on a Saturday afternoon.
Of course, while all of this zoomed through my head, I couldn't say any of it. I couldn't tell her I wanted to be part of the magic box team.
All I said was....
I got in to radio to meet hot chicks.
I am really excited to try and bring some of that magic box to the new technology, so while you may not be jazzed about my podcast, or think it is all that cool, let me tell ya mister, or missy, I am proud to carry on the tradition of making great things come out of the magic box.
Wednesday, March 16, 2011
Hear Me, Hear Ye!
Firt things first, I owe you a wicked cool apology for two housekeeping posts in a row, but I offer gifts.
Some of you may notice to the right is a list of all the topics I write about. This is a handy dandy way to find your favourite topics. That's right, I am going all professional up in this here whatever it is......still not gonna check spelling though, cause that's for real writers and such.
You may also notice that some pages have been added. You will see my bio page, a new bio page for Alley, and......... a podcast page!
That's right, finally gonna add the podcast... as soon as I figure out how to record the damn thing.
Alley will be my co host. She is an old friend and a crazy person, kinda like me. Please welcome her to the monkey family and treat her with respect. Let's try not to scare off the sex appeal mmkay?
She is now a contributer to the onemonkeymedia global entertainment network, and that might just mean we get to class the joint up.
Check out her bio, when it is up, and feel free to annoy her all you want.
The first podcast should be up Monday. The plan is to have one every monday from here until eternity, or we both get bored of it.
What you can expect from the podcast is sort of what you can expect from the blog. Funny, sometimes insightful, sometimes crude, sometimes weird, conversation between two people who are kinda weird, yet goodhearted.
So there you have it, a step in the direction of making this a real entertainment venue. Stay tuned for more exciting news as it becomes available.
Some of you may notice to the right is a list of all the topics I write about. This is a handy dandy way to find your favourite topics. That's right, I am going all professional up in this here whatever it is......still not gonna check spelling though, cause that's for real writers and such.
You may also notice that some pages have been added. You will see my bio page, a new bio page for Alley, and......... a podcast page!
That's right, finally gonna add the podcast... as soon as I figure out how to record the damn thing.
Alley will be my co host. She is an old friend and a crazy person, kinda like me. Please welcome her to the monkey family and treat her with respect. Let's try not to scare off the sex appeal mmkay?
She is now a contributer to the onemonkeymedia global entertainment network, and that might just mean we get to class the joint up.
Check out her bio, when it is up, and feel free to annoy her all you want.
The first podcast should be up Monday. The plan is to have one every monday from here until eternity, or we both get bored of it.
What you can expect from the podcast is sort of what you can expect from the blog. Funny, sometimes insightful, sometimes crude, sometimes weird, conversation between two people who are kinda weird, yet goodhearted.
So there you have it, a step in the direction of making this a real entertainment venue. Stay tuned for more exciting news as it becomes available.
Tuesday, March 15, 2011
Fear The Sleeper
Well, I did not get much sleep last night. Because of this, I really don't have anything insightfull, funny, entertaining, engageing or even titilating to share with you.
One should point out that most likely, the reason that Charlie Sheen's filter has failed is because of lack of sleep. It is a symptom of deprivation of nocturnal ways to just over flow the brain's more colourful meanderings.
I don't want that to happen.
I am just a simple man trying to make his way in the galaxy. I don't want to give in to my hate and anger right now, so instead, I am just going to post this nonsense blog about nothing.
Hey, maybe you can help me. In fact, I insist on it. You tell me right now what you would like to see me right about, be it fiction or non-fiction. I w3ill then select the best responses and write about those things.
And maybe I will go on strike until you do!
That's right, you need to do your part too!
So send me your ideas, and I will rip them off...errr create something cool from them.
You can post them here, or if you are shy, email them to onemonkeymedia@gmail.com
Do it!
Ask me questions, weird or serious. Send me the first sentence of a story. Send me a recipe I will critique.
Help me, to help you.
One should point out that most likely, the reason that Charlie Sheen's filter has failed is because of lack of sleep. It is a symptom of deprivation of nocturnal ways to just over flow the brain's more colourful meanderings.
I don't want that to happen.
I am just a simple man trying to make his way in the galaxy. I don't want to give in to my hate and anger right now, so instead, I am just going to post this nonsense blog about nothing.
Hey, maybe you can help me. In fact, I insist on it. You tell me right now what you would like to see me right about, be it fiction or non-fiction. I w3ill then select the best responses and write about those things.
And maybe I will go on strike until you do!
That's right, you need to do your part too!
So send me your ideas, and I will rip them off...errr create something cool from them.
You can post them here, or if you are shy, email them to onemonkeymedia@gmail.com
Do it!
Ask me questions, weird or serious. Send me the first sentence of a story. Send me a recipe I will critique.
Help me, to help you.
Monday, March 14, 2011
A Sad Tale
In the sense that one needs to place blame for everything in their life so that they don`t have to take any personal responsibility for their actions, or the consequences thereof, I blame Alison for this mess.
Last week she felt the need to probe the depths of my knowledge on a subject which I am not the least bit qualified to discourse, let alone dispense sage like advice, even if I am doing it in Yoda voice.
She wanted to know what love is. I will give you a moment to get foreigner out of your head.
Ok, all better now?
I am the last person you want to make to think about love. Mainly because I have either never truly been in love, or, more succinctly, never had anyone in love with me, in any sense of the word.
I am not going to get sucked down the rabbit hole of talking about my parents and their lack of whatever. This isn`t about that. This is a love story, in so much as it is full of hate, anger, jealousy and death.
Picture if you will, a young headstrong boy. He has been on his own for a little but, unless you count his roommate. They have created a thriving little enterprise in pharmaceuticals distribution.
One day, the young man, we will call him Dave Notme.....ok fine, we will call him me. Anyway, so I am hanging out at home when I should be at school. It`s a warm day in May, so I am just chillin`with my homies, as they say.
In walks an unfortunately named girl, Martha. Martha is heroin skinny. She is tall and lanky, and she has small boobs and a big nose. The one thing she has going for her is that she is a twin, and neither Ian, nor myself had climbed that mountain. We had done several favours for her in the past in hopes that she and her twin would show back up to the spot to get it on in the Barry White sense.
I was clumsily dating Kristina at the time. She was just trying to piss her mom off by dating the guy from the wrong side of the tracks, and it would not last much more than a month after this day. She cheated on me with a stocky guy named Chris. I gavce him a pass because of the irony factor.
Where was I? Oh yeah, so Martha comes in and says her sister wants to meet us. Ian and I are immediately at attention, in more ways than one, assuming our day had finally come. Instead she tells us that it is not her twin, but her older sister that we have to meet. She wants to buy weight.
Normally, this is one of those discussions that makes a person feel uncomfortable. A pretty usual trick of the police is to catch a little fish and get them to introduce the big fish to their "cousin" from out of town. We told her to invite her sister to a party we were having on friday night. She did.
Now we had to spring in to action. First, we had to get a party together for friday night. Then we dispatched Little Big Bill to Martha's place, he had been having the sex with the other sister for a bit, so he could get in and find out if there was a big sister. Turns out there was, and we owed Bill big time, cause he didn't really want to admit he was having the sex with the sister. I think we loaned him the town crotch, and some anti biotics.
Ok so friday night came and Ian and I were nowhere to be found. Josh handled the party cause he was a mainstay in that area. He told us all went well, but she was disappointed that she didn't get to see us. We promised to meet with her the next day.
The next day I remember like few other days. The first thing that happened was that our apartment, the shack in the alleyway, instantly smelled like peculliu. I was kind of upset because that was hippy smell.
She did not disappoint either. She was wearing an olive green tank top, and ripped jeans. Her hair was in a pony tail, and she was beautiful. Brown hair, green eyes, and perfect. Not skinny, not fat, just right. She had boobs, unlike her sisters, and her nose was appropriately sized for her face.
Ian knew me very well, and knew that I didn't have to pee on her to mark her as mine. He backed off. She bought a quarter pound of pot. To this day, I have no idea what the hell she did with it, but frankly, I don't really care. It was the first, and last time she ever bought drugs from us.
She was a year older than myself, so that made it all naughty and fetishy.
I'd like to say she succumb to my wilds immediately, but that isn't the case. She did start talking with me on a regular basis. She would come over, hang out, get high and shoot the shit.
Eventually that didn't cut it, and we started hanging out away from the others. One of our favourite things was to go to the park off Augusta and Baldwin and hang out on the swing set and just talk, especially at night.
We flirted. A lot. Not that cheap little teenage flirtation of two people who don't know how to close the deal, but that flirtation of two people who would rather be making the love.
It's that type of flirting that dares you to create that awkward moment. That one moment in time where you look at each other and dare each other to kiss. That flirting where you play fight and touch each other in hopes of it turning into heavy petting.
Thing is, I never closed the deal. At first it was because of Kristina. Then Chantelle. Then one of the Jens. Then it was because of Odie.
Odie was a friend of the family you might say. He had been away for a time because of a botched robbery with one of Josh's brothers.
When he came back, we initiated him, and he became one of us. A huge mistake.
This was about a year after Joanne was in our little group. He came out and immediately went for her. Noone else had. Nonone else was stupid enough. They all knew she was marked, but he didn't give a shit.
He was also almost twice her age. Seriously. She was 17 he was 31.
I wanted to hurt him very very badly, but I owed the Fish family, so I let him be. Then he did something I will never be able to forgive. He cheated on my beloved. In front of me. With a 16 year old girl.
Joanne, never a stupid one, came to me with her suspiscion. We were sitting on the swingset about maybe 2am. I was shifty at that point. Trying to find a way out of the conversation. Big Bill came running over to tell me there was a problem at Raoul's. This was heaven sent, despite the fact Dale had hit someone with the butt end of a shotgun.
I told Bill my dilemma, he said, Jesus, what a dick for putting you in this position, you should do something. So I slept with the 16 year old. Odie's roommate, a dirt bag known only as weasel threatened to stab me. Apparently Odie and him had done a little time in the slammer.
I laughed at him. He walked away. Two night's later, he crushed a guy's skull in on the sidewalk in front of my place. Weasel disappeared after that. Odie went with him.
At this point, I finally told Joanne that I loved her. She was too distraught over the disappearance of Odie to listen.
We stayed friends. I would hold her when her dad beat her. I would comfort her when she was sad, I would laugh at her bad puns. I even let her use my shower, even though she used somehippy shampoo.
She would spend a lot of nights at my place. And we were the bestest of friends.
Then these fools we were beefing with destroyed her. They found her out late one night and took their time, and turns, on her.
There are some sights that are forever etched on to the back of a person's eyelids. Some sights that you cannot drink or drug away. Some memories that will be with you for the rest of your life.
The look in her eyes that night when I opened my door is one of those images.
I have always loved Joanne's eyes. They sparkled with a light that just read mischief and fun. Despite all of the beating she took for her sisters, the men who mistreated her, and the system that forgot her, she had a fire in her eyes. She was a fighter, a w2inner. This sparkle was dead that night. Her eyes were vacant, dead. They lacked emotion. She looked as much through me as at me.
It would take several hours to find out what had happened. Several days to get the full picture. I spent every moment of the next two weeks with her. Holding her, feeding her, listening, or just letting it be silent.
It was decided that she should move away. Go somewhere safe. My heart was crushed. The woman I loved was leaving me.
In an ironic twist, she was moving down to florida to be with an aunt, or was it an uncle in Atlanta. I can never remember these things. Anyway, after everything died down, say about two weeks, she called me.
I remember the life in her voice. I thought she would be sad, but the truth is, she wasn't. At first this hurt me, to think that getting away would have saved her and made her happy. How could she be happy without me?
Turns out, she couldn't/
She told me she loved me and she wanted to come home to be with me. She said she was leaving right away.
My love was coming!
She never made it. Her ride, a drunk had crashed the car. She died then and there. My love was gone.
Those two days were the happiest two days of my life though. The time between when she called, and when we got the message.
I spent those two days in love, and loved.
You see kids, this is why I am not qualified to tell anyone anything about love. I waited so long that I lost it. Had I grabbed it when I could, there would have been no Odie, no bad men, no drunks. There would have been love.
When you think you have it, you go for it. You don't wait to be sure.
There is tremendous risk in putting yourself out there for love, but what of the risk of waiting for the sure thing?
I doubt many will ever experience the pain I did, but even at half the price, can you afford to wait, or worse yet, let it walk on by like I did?
Last week she felt the need to probe the depths of my knowledge on a subject which I am not the least bit qualified to discourse, let alone dispense sage like advice, even if I am doing it in Yoda voice.
She wanted to know what love is. I will give you a moment to get foreigner out of your head.
Ok, all better now?
I am the last person you want to make to think about love. Mainly because I have either never truly been in love, or, more succinctly, never had anyone in love with me, in any sense of the word.
I am not going to get sucked down the rabbit hole of talking about my parents and their lack of whatever. This isn`t about that. This is a love story, in so much as it is full of hate, anger, jealousy and death.
Picture if you will, a young headstrong boy. He has been on his own for a little but, unless you count his roommate. They have created a thriving little enterprise in pharmaceuticals distribution.
One day, the young man, we will call him Dave Notme.....ok fine, we will call him me. Anyway, so I am hanging out at home when I should be at school. It`s a warm day in May, so I am just chillin`with my homies, as they say.
In walks an unfortunately named girl, Martha. Martha is heroin skinny. She is tall and lanky, and she has small boobs and a big nose. The one thing she has going for her is that she is a twin, and neither Ian, nor myself had climbed that mountain. We had done several favours for her in the past in hopes that she and her twin would show back up to the spot to get it on in the Barry White sense.
I was clumsily dating Kristina at the time. She was just trying to piss her mom off by dating the guy from the wrong side of the tracks, and it would not last much more than a month after this day. She cheated on me with a stocky guy named Chris. I gavce him a pass because of the irony factor.
Where was I? Oh yeah, so Martha comes in and says her sister wants to meet us. Ian and I are immediately at attention, in more ways than one, assuming our day had finally come. Instead she tells us that it is not her twin, but her older sister that we have to meet. She wants to buy weight.
Normally, this is one of those discussions that makes a person feel uncomfortable. A pretty usual trick of the police is to catch a little fish and get them to introduce the big fish to their "cousin" from out of town. We told her to invite her sister to a party we were having on friday night. She did.
Now we had to spring in to action. First, we had to get a party together for friday night. Then we dispatched Little Big Bill to Martha's place, he had been having the sex with the other sister for a bit, so he could get in and find out if there was a big sister. Turns out there was, and we owed Bill big time, cause he didn't really want to admit he was having the sex with the sister. I think we loaned him the town crotch, and some anti biotics.
Ok so friday night came and Ian and I were nowhere to be found. Josh handled the party cause he was a mainstay in that area. He told us all went well, but she was disappointed that she didn't get to see us. We promised to meet with her the next day.
The next day I remember like few other days. The first thing that happened was that our apartment, the shack in the alleyway, instantly smelled like peculliu. I was kind of upset because that was hippy smell.
She did not disappoint either. She was wearing an olive green tank top, and ripped jeans. Her hair was in a pony tail, and she was beautiful. Brown hair, green eyes, and perfect. Not skinny, not fat, just right. She had boobs, unlike her sisters, and her nose was appropriately sized for her face.
Ian knew me very well, and knew that I didn't have to pee on her to mark her as mine. He backed off. She bought a quarter pound of pot. To this day, I have no idea what the hell she did with it, but frankly, I don't really care. It was the first, and last time she ever bought drugs from us.
She was a year older than myself, so that made it all naughty and fetishy.
I'd like to say she succumb to my wilds immediately, but that isn't the case. She did start talking with me on a regular basis. She would come over, hang out, get high and shoot the shit.
Eventually that didn't cut it, and we started hanging out away from the others. One of our favourite things was to go to the park off Augusta and Baldwin and hang out on the swing set and just talk, especially at night.
We flirted. A lot. Not that cheap little teenage flirtation of two people who don't know how to close the deal, but that flirtation of two people who would rather be making the love.
It's that type of flirting that dares you to create that awkward moment. That one moment in time where you look at each other and dare each other to kiss. That flirting where you play fight and touch each other in hopes of it turning into heavy petting.
Thing is, I never closed the deal. At first it was because of Kristina. Then Chantelle. Then one of the Jens. Then it was because of Odie.
Odie was a friend of the family you might say. He had been away for a time because of a botched robbery with one of Josh's brothers.
When he came back, we initiated him, and he became one of us. A huge mistake.
This was about a year after Joanne was in our little group. He came out and immediately went for her. Noone else had. Nonone else was stupid enough. They all knew she was marked, but he didn't give a shit.
He was also almost twice her age. Seriously. She was 17 he was 31.
I wanted to hurt him very very badly, but I owed the Fish family, so I let him be. Then he did something I will never be able to forgive. He cheated on my beloved. In front of me. With a 16 year old girl.
Joanne, never a stupid one, came to me with her suspiscion. We were sitting on the swingset about maybe 2am. I was shifty at that point. Trying to find a way out of the conversation. Big Bill came running over to tell me there was a problem at Raoul's. This was heaven sent, despite the fact Dale had hit someone with the butt end of a shotgun.
I told Bill my dilemma, he said, Jesus, what a dick for putting you in this position, you should do something. So I slept with the 16 year old. Odie's roommate, a dirt bag known only as weasel threatened to stab me. Apparently Odie and him had done a little time in the slammer.
I laughed at him. He walked away. Two night's later, he crushed a guy's skull in on the sidewalk in front of my place. Weasel disappeared after that. Odie went with him.
At this point, I finally told Joanne that I loved her. She was too distraught over the disappearance of Odie to listen.
We stayed friends. I would hold her when her dad beat her. I would comfort her when she was sad, I would laugh at her bad puns. I even let her use my shower, even though she used somehippy shampoo.
She would spend a lot of nights at my place. And we were the bestest of friends.
Then these fools we were beefing with destroyed her. They found her out late one night and took their time, and turns, on her.
There are some sights that are forever etched on to the back of a person's eyelids. Some sights that you cannot drink or drug away. Some memories that will be with you for the rest of your life.
The look in her eyes that night when I opened my door is one of those images.
I have always loved Joanne's eyes. They sparkled with a light that just read mischief and fun. Despite all of the beating she took for her sisters, the men who mistreated her, and the system that forgot her, she had a fire in her eyes. She was a fighter, a w2inner. This sparkle was dead that night. Her eyes were vacant, dead. They lacked emotion. She looked as much through me as at me.
It would take several hours to find out what had happened. Several days to get the full picture. I spent every moment of the next two weeks with her. Holding her, feeding her, listening, or just letting it be silent.
It was decided that she should move away. Go somewhere safe. My heart was crushed. The woman I loved was leaving me.
In an ironic twist, she was moving down to florida to be with an aunt, or was it an uncle in Atlanta. I can never remember these things. Anyway, after everything died down, say about two weeks, she called me.
I remember the life in her voice. I thought she would be sad, but the truth is, she wasn't. At first this hurt me, to think that getting away would have saved her and made her happy. How could she be happy without me?
Turns out, she couldn't/
She told me she loved me and she wanted to come home to be with me. She said she was leaving right away.
My love was coming!
She never made it. Her ride, a drunk had crashed the car. She died then and there. My love was gone.
Those two days were the happiest two days of my life though. The time between when she called, and when we got the message.
I spent those two days in love, and loved.
You see kids, this is why I am not qualified to tell anyone anything about love. I waited so long that I lost it. Had I grabbed it when I could, there would have been no Odie, no bad men, no drunks. There would have been love.
When you think you have it, you go for it. You don't wait to be sure.
There is tremendous risk in putting yourself out there for love, but what of the risk of waiting for the sure thing?
I doubt many will ever experience the pain I did, but even at half the price, can you afford to wait, or worse yet, let it walk on by like I did?
One Monkey Week March 6-12
One Week of Blogs in One Paragraph
The week started off on a high note about dreaming, then a little bit of the old fiction made an appearance. I am going to continue working on the story, but since reaction was limited, it's going to remain in the dark until it is done. At this point we learn that I am a very serious monkey. this point, I take a little break from reality and complain about stupid people. The blog rounds the week out with a ramble about manhood and a lazy hazy post of a blog entry that previously din't even make the cut.
Monkey Messages.
These are the messages of the day I post.
Beer is living proof that God loves us and wants us to be happy.- Benjamin Franklin
Success is the ability to go from one failure to another with no loss of enthusiasm. - Winston Churchill
If you're playing a poker game and you look around the table and can't tell who the sucker is, it's you.- Paul Newman
Any fool can paint a picture, but it takes a wise man to be able to sell it. - Samuel Butler
The universe is not required to be in perfect harmony with human ambition.- Carl Sagan
The Musical Interlude.
Here are your songs of the day for this past week.
Ozzy Osbourne - Dreamer Rarely do I match the song to the blog, but this just sort of made sense to me that day. I am a very sappy loser!
Three Days Grace - The Good Life Just a hapy go lucky song about getting over on the rest of the world. I really like the idea of going for it because any day could be your last. Why waste time? Why not grab for it, just in case right?
The Free Design - Love You This is a song about life. It is about letting go of reality and just being you, and being free. Just go ahead and be carefree like a child, cause the world is a serious place, but that doesn't mean you have to be serious.
Foreigner - I want to Know what love is This was a special dedication. I had been having a rather long and involved conversation about what exactly love is. Me! The king of unrequited love! All I know is the downside, but I figure, if you reverse it all then you know what it really is, right?
Rage Against The Machine - How I could Just Kill A Man This is Rage Covering Cypress Hill. Very good stuff. What can I say, if you have lived your life in relative security, where your food comes from a grocery store, you just might not get it.
Weekly Nirvana
This is off their first album, most people don't own it.
Podcast of The Week
This week, I am focusing on a podcast from a fellow traveller and not quite there dude. I mean not quite there, not in the sense of crazy, but in the sense of just on the cusp of reaching his sweet spot/dreams.
The host is Mike Schmidt. The guy is truly funny and entertaining. He has great stories to tell, and he tells them in a self depricatingly funny way. That may in fact be the reason I like it so muc. There is something to be said for the fact that a person is able to examine their own foible, and present them to others without shame or self conscious editing.
I have to admit, at first, I was very annoyed with his producer/co-host, burlesque star Lili Von Shtupp. All you can really hear from her is annoying laughter. It was grating at first for two reasons. 1. It is one of those incredibly high pitched laughs. 2. She seemed to find every third sentence funny, whether it was or not. After listening to a few of the casts I started to understand, and appreciate her role more. She is there more for motivation and realities sake than she is for anything else. Not having her would most likely make the host back down from his rants, leaving them flat and short, lacking the truly stream of consciousness quality that is central to the theme of the show. The thing is, she is most likely laughing because of his expressions and gestures. She adds to the show by making it feel like a conversation between two friends, rather than a staged entertainment vehicle. In this case, one of the friends is ridiculously funny, and the other one has big boobs and laughs a lot.
I strongly reccomend that you check out the show known as The 40 year old Boy. It is well worth your time, and might be the first podcast I am willing to pay real money to listen to....that could just be because he is saying all the stuff that goes through my own head....he should not be pleased with that.
One Monkey Toy
It is the Dyson vaccuum. I have chosen this because let's face it, even monkeys need to have a clean cage from time to time, so you might as well be using something pretty freaking cool and sciency while your doing it, amiright? I don't understand the dyson much, but it seems far out there in the realm of suction technology. The next step will be to make it remote controlled.
Wrap Party
Well, that's it for this week. It is a day late from when I intended to post it, but better late than never. This is a weekly feature, making it's return to my blog, which I will attempt to make happen as much as possible going forward. Like I said earlier in the week, it is time to get off my sweet sweet man butt and get this back on track. Not sure where we stand with the podcast. I am still mulling things over on how to make it work right. Hopefully I will have a yay or nay by the end of the week.
As always, I welcome your feedback and ideas. Let me hear from you so I can tailor your experience, or tell you to go jump in the lake.
The week started off on a high note about dreaming, then a little bit of the old fiction made an appearance. I am going to continue working on the story, but since reaction was limited, it's going to remain in the dark until it is done. At this point we learn that I am a very serious monkey. this point, I take a little break from reality and complain about stupid people. The blog rounds the week out with a ramble about manhood and a lazy hazy post of a blog entry that previously din't even make the cut.
Monkey Messages.
These are the messages of the day I post.
Beer is living proof that God loves us and wants us to be happy.- Benjamin Franklin
Success is the ability to go from one failure to another with no loss of enthusiasm. - Winston Churchill
If you're playing a poker game and you look around the table and can't tell who the sucker is, it's you.- Paul Newman
Any fool can paint a picture, but it takes a wise man to be able to sell it. - Samuel Butler
The universe is not required to be in perfect harmony with human ambition.- Carl Sagan
The Musical Interlude.
Here are your songs of the day for this past week.
Ozzy Osbourne - Dreamer Rarely do I match the song to the blog, but this just sort of made sense to me that day. I am a very sappy loser!
Three Days Grace - The Good Life Just a hapy go lucky song about getting over on the rest of the world. I really like the idea of going for it because any day could be your last. Why waste time? Why not grab for it, just in case right?
The Free Design - Love You This is a song about life. It is about letting go of reality and just being you, and being free. Just go ahead and be carefree like a child, cause the world is a serious place, but that doesn't mean you have to be serious.
Foreigner - I want to Know what love is This was a special dedication. I had been having a rather long and involved conversation about what exactly love is. Me! The king of unrequited love! All I know is the downside, but I figure, if you reverse it all then you know what it really is, right?
Rage Against The Machine - How I could Just Kill A Man This is Rage Covering Cypress Hill. Very good stuff. What can I say, if you have lived your life in relative security, where your food comes from a grocery store, you just might not get it.
Weekly Nirvana
This is off their first album, most people don't own it.
Podcast of The Week
This week, I am focusing on a podcast from a fellow traveller and not quite there dude. I mean not quite there, not in the sense of crazy, but in the sense of just on the cusp of reaching his sweet spot/dreams.
The host is Mike Schmidt. The guy is truly funny and entertaining. He has great stories to tell, and he tells them in a self depricatingly funny way. That may in fact be the reason I like it so muc. There is something to be said for the fact that a person is able to examine their own foible, and present them to others without shame or self conscious editing.
I have to admit, at first, I was very annoyed with his producer/co-host, burlesque star Lili Von Shtupp. All you can really hear from her is annoying laughter. It was grating at first for two reasons. 1. It is one of those incredibly high pitched laughs. 2. She seemed to find every third sentence funny, whether it was or not. After listening to a few of the casts I started to understand, and appreciate her role more. She is there more for motivation and realities sake than she is for anything else. Not having her would most likely make the host back down from his rants, leaving them flat and short, lacking the truly stream of consciousness quality that is central to the theme of the show. The thing is, she is most likely laughing because of his expressions and gestures. She adds to the show by making it feel like a conversation between two friends, rather than a staged entertainment vehicle. In this case, one of the friends is ridiculously funny, and the other one has big boobs and laughs a lot.
I strongly reccomend that you check out the show known as The 40 year old Boy. It is well worth your time, and might be the first podcast I am willing to pay real money to listen to....that could just be because he is saying all the stuff that goes through my own head....he should not be pleased with that.
One Monkey Toy
It is the Dyson vaccuum. I have chosen this because let's face it, even monkeys need to have a clean cage from time to time, so you might as well be using something pretty freaking cool and sciency while your doing it, amiright? I don't understand the dyson much, but it seems far out there in the realm of suction technology. The next step will be to make it remote controlled.
Wrap Party
Well, that's it for this week. It is a day late from when I intended to post it, but better late than never. This is a weekly feature, making it's return to my blog, which I will attempt to make happen as much as possible going forward. Like I said earlier in the week, it is time to get off my sweet sweet man butt and get this back on track. Not sure where we stand with the podcast. I am still mulling things over on how to make it work right. Hopefully I will have a yay or nay by the end of the week.
As always, I welcome your feedback and ideas. Let me hear from you so I can tailor your experience, or tell you to go jump in the lake.
Saturday, March 12, 2011
PL:6 (A rerun....sort of)
So, this is saturday, and that means it is my day off. Instead of not doing anything, I thought I would present to you a blog entry that I wrote and never posted. This is from December 2nd of 2010. It was not finished at the time, i will try and end it here and present a little something.
Truth is, I am doing this so I don't write about what is on my mind. Cop Out bitches!
Start of old blog:
I will get back to posting my normal blog later today, but I wanted to drop some stuff in here.
Last night I went to the hospitol because my brain hurt. This resulted in me finding out I had some infection issues going on. Nothing dirty mind you, but hey, now I know why I feel like crap. Because of this, I had a chance to take a day off of work. This resultedd in me taking copius quantities of drugs, take a ginormous nap and catch up on my reading.
This is not always a good thing, but in this case, assuming you like my funny rants, it is a very good thing.
Anyone familiar with D20 Modern will understand the title, but for those of you who are not familiar (and that is 99% of the world) need to know I am talking about the Information age.
We are now getting the party started, and the chips are falling where they may. Take wikileaks for example. This dude Assanje fully believes he is doing something fantastic with all of these documents he is putting up on the net. He talks about transparency in government, and while I agree there should be transparency, what this latest round of leaks reminds me of is E!.
A bunch of internal documents and gossip about foreign affairs. How Perezx Hilton like. I think that may in fact be the perfect analogy of what the information age is turning out to be.
With near limitless access to information at my finger tips, what I need to know, and what investigative reporters are all out to find out is who is sleeping with who, who has genital warts, and what we really think of foreign leaders.
None of it is shocking, none of it is revealing. All it tells us is stuff we already knew. That Iranian guy, the americans don't like him. Canada has few domestic terror issues. The German leader is kind of a machine... seriously. This is what you found? Maybe, just maybe if you told me that Prime Minister Harper had genital herpes which he got from a transvestite hooker, I might actually care. The rest is just stuff I already knew because I have half a brain.
The real meat of the information we get merely tells us that we are all people. I have said it before, and I will say it again. All people are people. We like to think that our leaders are different than us, but they aren't. Celebrities must be different because they are famous. They are just people. Some are good, some are bad. Some have paranoid schizophrenia and some have diahreia.
One thing we have learned from the information age is that everyone is just a person. We strive so hard to find out their foibles that we forget to realise all these people are just people, and their foibles are no different than those of the person living next to you.
For some reason we want to build them up just so we can knock them down. At times I don't get the information age. On one hand we make stars out of mentally dificient people from Neew Jersey, and then we seek to freak out when we find out they like to do stupid things.
We seem to have confused the information age with the theatrical age. Everything must be sensational. Everything has to presented as infotainment. It is like those friggin puns on news programs. Seriously, do you have to make me feel petty and small for laughing at your little cute sayings? You are a news source, not a comedy show.
As we enter the era of the cloud, everything seems to need to be bigger, brighter, more sensational. Take Playboy for example. TRhe Heff is in serious trouble. No one is buying Playboy anymore. No one wants to see high gloss pictures of plastic women in compromising positions in front of everyday backdrops.
Wanna know why? Because we can download full length movies of our neighbours doing anything and everything ever inventedd in the realm of sexual contact...with or without a partner, with or without a member of the animal kingdom.
The era of women as meat is sort of over, and now we enter the era of women as snot rags. I can't think of anything worse really at this point to liken it to.
We have gone from women as objects of desire and attention, which is not the worst thing in the world, yet still doesn't treat them as equals, and thus a problem that needs to be dealt with; to treating them as if they were an old sweat sock. Spewing tons of man juice all over women's faces, video taping them eating feces, plugging every hole with a giant sausage (not a euphamism, though could be) having them copulate with animals, 5 guys at a time. Is this progress?
Is this what the information age is all about? I want off that cloud. Where's the cloud where we are open with each other, share history and culture? Why is it that the majority of the internet is gossip, ridiculous pornography, insanity and
end of old blog.
whatever disgusting or sensational graphic images we can think.
Hooray for progress. Hooray for the need to shock ourselves in to feeling something, since we are slipping further and further apart.
Truth is, I am doing this so I don't write about what is on my mind. Cop Out bitches!
Start of old blog:
I will get back to posting my normal blog later today, but I wanted to drop some stuff in here.
Last night I went to the hospitol because my brain hurt. This resulted in me finding out I had some infection issues going on. Nothing dirty mind you, but hey, now I know why I feel like crap. Because of this, I had a chance to take a day off of work. This resultedd in me taking copius quantities of drugs, take a ginormous nap and catch up on my reading.
This is not always a good thing, but in this case, assuming you like my funny rants, it is a very good thing.
Anyone familiar with D20 Modern will understand the title, but for those of you who are not familiar (and that is 99% of the world) need to know I am talking about the Information age.
We are now getting the party started, and the chips are falling where they may. Take wikileaks for example. This dude Assanje fully believes he is doing something fantastic with all of these documents he is putting up on the net. He talks about transparency in government, and while I agree there should be transparency, what this latest round of leaks reminds me of is E!.
A bunch of internal documents and gossip about foreign affairs. How Perezx Hilton like. I think that may in fact be the perfect analogy of what the information age is turning out to be.
With near limitless access to information at my finger tips, what I need to know, and what investigative reporters are all out to find out is who is sleeping with who, who has genital warts, and what we really think of foreign leaders.
None of it is shocking, none of it is revealing. All it tells us is stuff we already knew. That Iranian guy, the americans don't like him. Canada has few domestic terror issues. The German leader is kind of a machine... seriously. This is what you found? Maybe, just maybe if you told me that Prime Minister Harper had genital herpes which he got from a transvestite hooker, I might actually care. The rest is just stuff I already knew because I have half a brain.
The real meat of the information we get merely tells us that we are all people. I have said it before, and I will say it again. All people are people. We like to think that our leaders are different than us, but they aren't. Celebrities must be different because they are famous. They are just people. Some are good, some are bad. Some have paranoid schizophrenia and some have diahreia.
One thing we have learned from the information age is that everyone is just a person. We strive so hard to find out their foibles that we forget to realise all these people are just people, and their foibles are no different than those of the person living next to you.
For some reason we want to build them up just so we can knock them down. At times I don't get the information age. On one hand we make stars out of mentally dificient people from Neew Jersey, and then we seek to freak out when we find out they like to do stupid things.
We seem to have confused the information age with the theatrical age. Everything must be sensational. Everything has to presented as infotainment. It is like those friggin puns on news programs. Seriously, do you have to make me feel petty and small for laughing at your little cute sayings? You are a news source, not a comedy show.
As we enter the era of the cloud, everything seems to need to be bigger, brighter, more sensational. Take Playboy for example. TRhe Heff is in serious trouble. No one is buying Playboy anymore. No one wants to see high gloss pictures of plastic women in compromising positions in front of everyday backdrops.
Wanna know why? Because we can download full length movies of our neighbours doing anything and everything ever inventedd in the realm of sexual contact...with or without a partner, with or without a member of the animal kingdom.
The era of women as meat is sort of over, and now we enter the era of women as snot rags. I can't think of anything worse really at this point to liken it to.
We have gone from women as objects of desire and attention, which is not the worst thing in the world, yet still doesn't treat them as equals, and thus a problem that needs to be dealt with; to treating them as if they were an old sweat sock. Spewing tons of man juice all over women's faces, video taping them eating feces, plugging every hole with a giant sausage (not a euphamism, though could be) having them copulate with animals, 5 guys at a time. Is this progress?
Is this what the information age is all about? I want off that cloud. Where's the cloud where we are open with each other, share history and culture? Why is it that the majority of the internet is gossip, ridiculous pornography, insanity and
end of old blog.
whatever disgusting or sensational graphic images we can think.
Hooray for progress. Hooray for the need to shock ourselves in to feeling something, since we are slipping further and further apart.
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