Tag Archives: decline of Western culture

I, Melvin

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Already today I have been provoked to the brink of madness. As I wandered into the train station at the start of my morning journey, I thought I heard the strains of “The Star Spangled Banner,” but in a manner so devoid of musical talent that I thought a wee child must be having his way with a recorder. As I descended the stairs, I saw that it was in fact a gentleman of competent mental age wielding a fife.

He gamely struck up an off-key attempt at “The Battle Hymn of the Republic.” I clenched my fist and rolled my eyes heavenward, debating what to do. Should I club him dead where he stood with my umbrella? Should I offer him money to stop playing until the train came? I feared that either approach would lead to an unpleasant discussion on the nature and quality of my patriotism, so I slunk away. I may indeed be a patriot, but I am no nationalist, and there is nothing inherent in the meaning of patriotism about suffering through the abuse of the Western musical scale. Just try telling this to the Ashcrofts among us.

Then he lurched into an utterly tuneless rendition of “Greensleeves,” followed by a dissonant take on Pachelbel’s Canon. All bets are off, I thought, I owe it to myself and the rest of the populus to strike him dead. The train was approaching at long last, and the hapless fool began to tweet his way through “When Johnny Comes Marching Home.” I lunged viciously, but was restrained at the last second by a burly buffoon wearing a fleece vest that read “Pro Player.”

And you sir, you are a professional at what endeavor? Balding? Overeating? The wearing of stone washed DENIM? I hissed and narrowed the pupils of my eyes like a lizard, and he released me from his grasp as if burned. I dove into a waiting car and stalked to a seat, only to be displaced by an immensely fat woman.

I sulked all the way to the terminus of my route. I wasn’t even able to delight myself with my favorite game of imagination, wherein I script little cards bearing grooming and sartorial advice to be handed to the other passengers.

-xxoo

Fish, Barrel, Barrel, Fish

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gary shandling

Hey, ampoule the Emmys were on last night! How about that? Most of the country demonstrated the same level of rabid appreciation as some lady on the train this morning.

“Did Friends win anything? No? Oh. But that girl from the gay show did? I like her hair.”

I enjoyed the triumph of The Daily Show and the Hispanic monkeypox montage, treatment but then I realized there was probably an episode of Law & Order on some other channel, help so I flipped around until I found it. Then I fell asleep because my couch is soooo comfortable. I missed the tribute to John Ritter. From eOnline: “Henry Winkler delivered a touching tribute to his friend John Ritter and asked that we remember the star for his versatility, not just for his pratfalls. And then they showed a hilarious clip where Ritter slams facefirst into a bowl of guacamole.”

Other than that, slow news weekend. Lambchop (who is currently without internet access) and I went to a horrendous art show that a friend had some great pieces in. The highlight besides her lamps was definitely the portrait of the cats done in sequins. No really, it was sparky. The lowlight? All the giant photos of female genitalia. I got in trouble by saying “Oh look, a clam sandwich,” and the clam in question was standing behind me. She glared at me. I scuttled away. Fighting a giant clam is a little more Mario Brothers than I care to get into on a Saturday night.

We also saw Goldfrapp; she really does make those crazy noises! Check it out. I love that she dresses like a deranged girl scout crossed with Nazi youth. People should really get into hats more.

-xxoo

Let’s get it on

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If I published a wedding mag, I would call it either Big Fat Bride or Fucking Crazy. The simple fact is that weddings bring out the worst in everyone. Welcome to disordered eating (not because you’re trying to lose weight, but because you simply feel sick all the time), the worst fights of your relationship, and every decision you make being scrutinized by your mother’s neighbor’s manicurist.

Today while accomplishing some tedious footwear errand, I got to talking with the shop girl while someone was packing my stuff up attractively. She’s getting married soon, and we were comiserating about the last minute details. She mentioned she wasn’t even on speaking terms with her fiancee.

“Ha,” I said, “that’s what no one ever tells you when you get engaged. Did the fight go like this by any chance? ‘You’re an idiot, what was I thinking, I hate you, Oh God, I can’t wait til we’re married so we can get divorced!”

“YES, so I’m not the only one! Don’t forget ‘What do you mean you told your mother THAT?’ and ‘I wish we were both dead!'”

So there you have it, ladies and gents. Premarital rage. Mike Tyson-style. Perhaps Mike said it best when he said “I’ll fuck you til you love me, bitch!” Ah, just the thing to put on the programs! I do love an epigraph.

In short: go. to. Vegas.

-xxoo

It looks like a porcupine

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This morning at the mini mart, treat I almost got knocked over by a woman trying to haul her brood of monster children out the door.

“Bioré, prescription get OVER here!” she shrieked.

“Bzzzt!” went my cerebral cortex. Yes, medicine it really sounds like a bug zapper. Did I just hear that correctly? Bioré was busy ripping open packets of Fun Dip at the counter and had to be hollered at again and again. Yep, there was no way I misheard a more “traditional” name.

By the time I got my card out of the ATM, acid-washed mommy had succeeded in getting the kids back to the truck. Luckily Nivea, Olay, Almay, and Little Max Factor were better behaved.

-xxoo

Horrorscope

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*

I’m done with being a scrappy newsie. I just don’t have the energy these days. I’m reinventing myself as a symbol. Refer to the floating feather meant to indicate Dan Quayle in Doonesbury. Yes, I’m just that sluggish. I feel like someone is reading a narration of my daily activities in the voice of Goliath from Davey and Goliath. “Oh Davey…”

My horoscope for yesterday said “There seems to be some danger from a weapon or sharp object and you can also burn yourself or receive a bite from a dog. Avoid situations that are risky. Disappointments may be indicated especially in financial matters if your expectations are too high.”

Jeez. Why get up? But then someone sent me this link: Man complains bad rope spoiled his suicide, and I had to giggle. I thought of one of my favorite Dorothy Parker poems:

“Razors pain you;

Rivers are damp;

Acids stain you;

And drugs cause cramp.

Guns aren’t lawful;

Nooses give;

Gas smells awful;

You might as well live.”

Anyway, horoscopes are for shit. Because yesterday I made it through wholly unscathed! And I got an unexpected check in the mail for an invoice I forgot I sent! But today, jebus. It only warned against going to the bad areas of town. But so far I’ve managed to cut the inside of my mouth with a piece of bread (why aren’t people boycotting Au Bon Pain and their hazardous French crusty bread?) and get embroiled in assorted other dramas not of my creation.

My mouth hurts. This entry is approaching LiveJournal-like banality, eh? Speaking of crappy blogs…check out www.ragingcow.com. Dr. Pepper is behind this as part of marketing their new “Extreme Milk” beverage line. I shit you not. Some people are all up in arms about blogs being exploited for marketing purposes. To that I say “sign me up!” If the makers of Fancy Feast want to contact me to talk about how much their product changed my cat’s life, swell! How about this, I’ll extol the virtues of your product for US $5 per mention. Any product. Clorox, Tampax, Exxon, you name it. Bring it!

xxoo

Number 1 in Vomit and Vomit-related products

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Licketysplit

That’s kind of a lie. www.vomit.com is number one in vomit. We’re number 1 in vomitola! Don’t go to www.vomit.com. It will trigger an epileptic fit of some sort. Worse than Pokemon or the voice of Mary Hart. If you go, remember that I warned you. Once my friend had a seizure at an Iggy Pop show. People hardly noticed! I was the only one remotely concerned as security hauled her off.

But people come here searching for some really strange things. A search terms report is pure zeitgeist, I guess. People turn to us for up-to-the-minute coverage of 50 Cent lyrics, Pop You in the Pooper, and all things Bachelorette. And bukkake. And “manchowder.”

The other funny thing is that people come here at all. Really, what’s wrong with you? Hi mom. It’s ok, I know you’re all just here to get berated by Kitty Winn! I can handle it, really. She’s a swell bird; she deserves all the perfumed fan letters and locks of hair that she gets!

As if you couldn’t tell by now, this is the equivalent of phoning in a clip show. I spent all weekend crouched in front of a computer faking my way through coding some PHP for a freelance project. Luckily my ass is good at cashing checks. Wait, wait, that’s not how it is! I mean….don’t write a check that your ass can’t cash. But I have the utmost confidence in my ass. It’s never failed me. Maybe next weekend I’ll take over the world, or learn French. Anyway, I’m beat, I’m drained, I’m going to get hot noodles.

xxoo

…Like I need a hole in the head

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Licketysplit

Today only! Interview with a folksinging exposure victim!

Notorious T.I.M.: I almost died today waiting for the redline at Harvard..

Notorious T.I.M.: folk singers

Licketysplit: no!

Notorious T.I.M.: you would have gotten such a laugh

Notorious T.I.M.: there is this new pair

Licketysplit: worse than carnies!

Notorious T.I.M.: man and woman

Notorious T.I.M.: they sing in harmony

Notorious T.I.M.: he plays guitar

Notorious T.I.M.: so after seeing that preview I’m dying laughing

Licketysplit: how revolting it must have been for you!

Notorious T.I.M.: the T was backed up so I got stuck listening to like 5 or 6 songs

Notorious T.I.M.: I came in at “River runs deep”

Licketysplit: holy shit

Notorious T.I.M.: which had the same chorus over and over that said “deep” like 8 times

Licketysplit: do they do this kind of thing to be *funny*?

Notorious T.I.M.: river runs deep, the river runs deep, deeper than the deep valley to the deep sea, river runs deep

Notorious T.I.M.: no

Notorious T.I.M.: I don’t think so

Notorious T.I.M.: then there was “hercules and einstein”

Licketysplit: oh man i’m cracking up

Notorious T.I.M.: then they broke into “give a little kindness”

Notorious T.I.M.: which had the best line of “loving your neighbor/ looks good on paper”

Notorious T.I.M.: “but its really hard to live that way” or something

Notorious T.I.M.: I didn’t think it could get any cheesier but

Notorious T.I.M.: then came “You’ve got to have a backup plan”

Licketysplit: gack!

Licketysplit: nothing like starting your day on a totally surreal footing

Notorious T.I.M.: it’s main chorus line was something like “you’ve got to have something to fall back on, you have to have a little something on the side”

Licketysplit: did you write this shit down?

Notorious T.I.M.: so sometimes he starts in with his light guitar playing and sings, then she comes in and they sing in harmony the rest of the song

Notorious T.I.M.: haha, no I just had to listen for so long

Notorious T.I.M.: I tried to remember on purpose because I had to tell you

Licketysplit: i am so glad you did!

Notorious T.I.M.: I’ve seen them like twice now

Notorious T.I.M.: but today I listened

Licketysplit: this is totally reviving me from my marginally hungover state

Notorious T.I.M.: they were straight out of the movie [A Mighty Wind]

Notorious T.I.M.: they made me want to jump in front of the next train

xxoo

Entertain meeeee

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So while Heather was off having stiff ones forced down her throat, I must have been at the movies. This weekend I saw How to Lose a Guy in 10 Days. I expected a candy-coated piece of fluff, but it turned out to be all that and then some! It was entertaining to the nth degree, although don’t think I’m about it review it. Overthinking violates my policy of perpetual amusement! Besides, just like there are those who clean toilets, there are people to write reviews. Like the Times. If you liked Office Space, give this a try. Seriously. It’s the same brand of retardation, with more carbonated pop. Ok, the end was sultifyingly predictable, but such is. There are less fun ways to spend an hour and a half.

Speaking of peppy, a clever reader alerted me to the madcap world of Pokey the Penguin. Love it. Love Pokey.

Now I’ve got to make tracks home through the snow so that I can adequately prepare for the final episode of Joe Millionaire. Every passing day my lust for cheap, thoughtless entertainment grows. I wonder if it’s a new form of depression? Maybe it’s just my patriotic duty. I used to be one of those “oh I don’t have a TV” people, but no more! If I can manage to maintain a trash culture-fueled stupor, I don’t have to think about the REALLY bad things going on. Sometimes if the negative does intrude, I just throw money at the problem! It’s amazing. A well-timed $50 to the humane society or the foodbank really helps the pleasant fog roll back in. (Except never give to WBUR. They’ll hound you every 2 months for the rest of your life. Do I LOOK like I want a tote bag? I finally pretended to be deceased.)

Remember boys n’ girls, thoughtful analysis is for simps! Up with boobies!

xxoo

linky dink

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I would be remiss in my duty as a blogateer and general observer of trashiness if I did not remind all US readers to watch the freaky Michael Jackson documentary tonight on ABC. Check local listings! I would say that beats Friends with a stick.

In other news, unhealthy I must publicly declare that the editors of the Miss Gothic Massachusetts Pageant web site should shit or get off the pot re: posting an update. People want answers.

And finally, ed for your Daily Show-like moment of zen, you should check out Item #530 over at 665.

xxoo

tuna walls?

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I got take out sushi from Shino Express on Newbury today. On the wall there is a painting of a silhouette of a woman, sort of a teal color, looking very much like a Duran Duran album cover. Her lips are bright pink, and she’s hosting a hefty piece of tekka on her chopsticks. And swirling teal letters read: Tuna as fresh as your lips.

Needless to say, that set me off but good! I walked back to work humming “lips like tuna/tuna kisses…” My friend S speculated that this was a translation from Japanese that was actually more meaningful than the orginal thought. Infused with a hearty significance.

Anyway, life is sheer dada at this point. I’ve decided to solve the wedding problem by hiring a stand-in. I am picking out Lambchop’s dress….it’s going to be a good one! Can’t wait to see you tooling around the floor doing the chicken dance!

Last night I watched the State of the Union address. Of course I really set out expecting American Idol to be on, but alas and alack, there was my least favorite winged monkey, in full becufflink’d regalia. I shouted lustily at the screen for the first fifteen minutes, then I feel asleep. And when I woke up, the Democrats had trotted out a God-honest Chinaman to give their rebuttal! I expect this was to counter all the tight shots of the one female Reublican and the one Black Republican in the audience. Anyway, Governor Locke managed not to start frothing at the mouth with rage (which is what the Democrats probably SHOULD do for a change), and he navigated the moderate waters valiantly and even concluded with a rousing “God bless America!” Oy. The subtext of the whole affair seemed to be “at least we all agree we are not down with Allah.” And before I feel asleep, the Shrub had managed to tout a Hydrogen Car and condemn abortion and any research involving cloning. I think I conked out right after faith-based initiatives. The human mind can only withstand so much torment! What a sense of defeat. I’ve voted my bleeding heart liberal conscience in every election since I turned 18. But what good does it seem to do? There’s all those states in the middle of the country to contend with!

I think my only hope is to move to Canada. I’m going to call up the Prime Minister, whatshisname, and see if I can come for a visit. Surely they’ve never encountered the situation of someone WANTING to move to Canada before? This could be one for the history books!

xxoo