Why PETA should start eating meat... Mine.

            This rant started on Beliefnet.  For those of you who don’t know, Beliefnet is an online source of moderately ignorant, and very touchy-feely, well… crap.  Check this link for an example.  That article proves that no matter how dumb you think people are, they probably understand even less than you give them credit for.  Then I stumbled onto this.  Thank god, for I had simply forgotten all about PETA.  PETA, for those of you lucky enough not to know, is a group that’s dedicated to helping fuzzy-wuzzies while fighting against animal cruelty, any sort of pleasure in life or the smallest semblance of logic.  In short: PETA is for fuck-ups.

            It’s a scientific fact.  I was actually going to rant against Beliefnet but upon reading recent PETA publications I could not stay silent!  Let’s go to their page for a moment, shall we?  Under their campaigns is this:

They equate cooking fish with killing people.  In one of their older campaigns they equate the holocaust with, well, meat.  These people don’t have a sense of proportion, do they?  And they can’t be for animal rights.  Animals deserve protection from humans who don’t treat them with respect?  Then what about their fantastic ads for spaying and neutering?  That’s surgery to take away reproductive abilities (or, if you’re a PETA putz, rights) of animals.

            But it’s good for them in the big picture.  In the long run there will be less homeless animals on the street being put down.  Fuck that!  PETA, you don’t have the right to pick and choose what your ethical system applies to.  You take a standard and you stick with it.  Otherwise you’re a hypocrite and a liar.  You either think that you can do what you want to animals (though it should be tempered with common sense) or you completely protect them.  What PETA’s doing, that’s the equivalent of saying that you’re a Malthusian for human rights.  Sterilize the poor for the sake of society.  Carrying PETA’s system to humans, that’s what it comes out to.

            PETA=fucknuggets.  Be a vegetarian.  Good for you.  Do it because you don’t like the taste of meat.  Do it because you think it’s cruel to animals and you don’t want to be a part of that market demand.  That’s fantastic.  Be a vegan because you’re truly dedicated.  Fan-fucking-tastic.  But don’t you dare tell me it’s natural and closer to a balance with nature.  If you’re a vegetarian you are taking the top predator in the environment and pulling it out of the equation.  Nature and “animal rights” ethics don’t match.  You can take either side of the issue.  They’re both legitimate.  But saying that PETA is what’s right for animals?  That’s bullshit.  PETA is what’s right for people who’s conscious can’t deal with a real natural order, with the fact that nature has engineered a system of death, decay and sustenance.  Suffering is in there, but it’s not a factor other than a side effect or a survival avoidance tactic.

            Don’t eat animals or wear fur, but by all means, cut off their balls and scoop out their ovaries.  That’s not what’s right or natural?  That’s what makes you hyper-activists sleep better.  I eat meat.  I wear leather.  I don’t do fur, but that’s because I think it’s just excessive.  In fact, I fucking love meat.  The best steak I ever had was raw.  And I don’t hate animals.  Well, dogs.  And children.  But I love cats.  And you know what lets me sleep at night?  Ambien.  I pop pills while PETA lies on an international scale, misleading people and taking their money to disrupt businesses in a system (ecological or economical) that they don’t understand.  Yeah, I eat animals and I sleep well at night.  And I don’t have to con others or myself to do it.  So in salute, here’s my love meat, you self-deluded twits:

 

Where have all the flannels gone?

            Well, I’ve finally done it.  I was pushed and pushed and now I’ve done it.  I’ve made a web comic.  It’s badly drawn.  I could justify it as a Dada expression of talent in the web-pool.  I could say the jagged line structure is to emulate the constant jagged reality the two characters inhabit.  I could say a lot of things and some of them would be convincing.  Truth is, I suck as a graphic artist.  I just don’t have the ability to render images on paper well.  But this will suffice.  And besides, it feels good to get something in my system out on paper (insert masturbation comment here, because there was one).  Honestly, it is a Dada piece under construction.  It just won’t emerge so until there’s more of a context for it. 

Freddy and The Scream

          I’m at DrunkDuck right now, but I’m moving it over to Keenspace as soon as I can.  The link on the left will keep up, so don’t worry about that.  Like you would.

            Don’t have much else to say right now.

Oh, wait a moment.  I’ve got something.  In my last post, how many of you were able to discern who “trial by woman” was if I hadn’t already told you about her in person?  I’m just curious because she complained.  She was afraid that I’d put everything out here on the web for all to see.  Which isn’t what I’m doing.  I’m going to put it into a play/screenplay/prose piece for all to read.  But really, I want responses.  If you could tell who she is from the last post: reply with a yes.  If you couldn’t: reply with a no or some kind.  I’m just wondering if I had given more away when I wrote:

As for the trial by woman, don’t fear.  It’s not my girlfriend.  All is good on that front.  As for the trial, you’ll probably all have access to it.  I’m just trying to figure out the form: screenplay, play or prose?

            Well, I’m signing off for a bit.  I’ve got Kevin Smith on Degrassi to cozy up with.  And Jay’s hitting on all the junior high kids.  Brilliant!

Tunes, Trials, T(women) and Teengers

            Long overdue, I know, but this is just a check in.  And oh my, what an eventful time it’s been.  Where to begin?

            Music.  The ongoing search for good music continues, and bears fruit.  These fruits are called the following: Moloko, The Rapture, Lampshade, Benny Sings, The Go Find, Beat Happening, The Kills and Stephen Malkmus.  The last one is the only one I’ve been able to analyze simply because I don’t have albums for the others.  He’s great.  He’s from Pavement.  Really, write ‘em all down.  Get them.  Hear them.  Feel them and then run from cops.  Oh, and Munk.  The song Kick Out the Chairs.  Instant classic.  And the video is to die for.  Indi-rock models.  Fantabulous.

            The other side of music is this:  I’m forming a band.  Being that I’m an egoist, pretentious and a really good writer I’ve made myself the lead singer.  And I play didgeridoo.  The band, for all of you on the up and coming edge, is called The Big Nosed Kites.  I mentioned it at Hillel and it didn’t go over too well.  But that’s ok.  We have a singer and a bassist.  We need the rest.  And we’ll be based out of Jersey, so if you want to apply simply drop a line.  It’s that easy.  Admission isn’t, but application is.

            What else?  Of course!  The trials.  First there was trial by woman.  Then trial by Fire and Flood.  That’s right.  What sort of school year would it be if there wasn’t a flood and fire to try my patience?  I didn’t want to leave and assumed it was a drill so I stayed in my room.  About 1 or 2 hours later I started getting nervous because of all the people running on my floor.  I messed my hair, pulled off my nice shirt and stumbled out the door.  “Whaaa?”  I asked and was greeted by a cop and about 7 firemen.  “There’s a fire.  What are you doing in here?”  I told them the alarm didn’t go off in my room and that I was heavily under sedation.  Yes, I split infinitives at them and they didn’t even flinch.  The system doesn’t go off in your room.  I told them it did when there wasn’t a real fire.  They glared.  I put on shoes and left. 

            As for the trial by woman, don’t fear.  It’s not my girlfriend.  All is good on that front.  As for the trial, you’ll probably all have access to it.  I’m just trying to figure out the form: screenplay, play or prose? 

            My room, just to let everyone know, has kept its cycle of nature.  Yes, it is currently building itself up with laundry and trash and that foot smell that boy-rooms get.  Soon it will emerge from this chrysalis as a shining, pristine dorm; complete with floor!  But as of now I almost die trying to open the fridge.  And the contents fight back.  It’s not a good situation.

            Finally, media.  Tomorrow I plan to watch Napoleon Dynamite, which I’ve only heard one person rave about, many despise and a few think it was alright.  What I do have now is the fourth season of Degrassi: The Next Generation.  And I am a TNG fan.  I can’t wait till episodes 20/21, when Kevin Smith, Jason Mewes and Alanis Morrisette all guest.  I have no doubt it shall prove to be fantastique!  And that’s all for tonight.  So, onward with life, trials, tribulations and teenage melodrama!

            Oh, and I just had to do this:

Retraction Junction?

Yeah, forget that whole thing.  I meant to just say that I’m pissed.  Some people piss me off and they tend to live on my floor.

Dumb People A-Go-Go!

            As I sit here at 3:40 on a Saturday morning I hear, through my door, the following:

Guy 1:  Don’t move.
Guy 2:  Shut up!
Guy 1:  Listen to me!
Guy 2:  I said shut up!
The sound of scuffling is heard.  It escalates, turning into the grunts of a fight.
Guy 2:  Get off me!
Guy 1:  I said stay still!  You won’t listen!
The sounds turn to all out fighting.  Banging against walls, grunts and slamming into doors is heard. The sound fades as they get farther away, eventually going out into the stairwell.

            This is also the same day that I was in the bathroom and then two people came in.  One banged on the door of the stall for a few seconds until the other guy told him it was occupied.  Of course, he kept banging when I told him someone was in it.  The rest of the scene went as follows:

Idiot Who Banged On The Stall Door:  Is there someone in there?
Idiot’s Male Companion:  There’s someone in there.
IWBOTSD:  (now peeing with his stall door opened) What the fuck!  Hey, that’s the piss stall!  Is he taking a crap?
IMC:  He’s taking a crap.
IWBOTSD:  What the fuck!?  Don’t fucking shit in the piss stall!
IMC:  Ok buddy…

            So, my question is, why are people so stupid?  And it’s not just these guys.  Everyone is.  And everyone has their moments.  I tend to be an elitist.  I pick and choose whom I spend my time with.  I try to pick smart people and, failing that, entertainingly stupid ones.  But the end result of observation is still the same: people tend to set themselves up to be morons.

            Some people, for example, tend to set things up on lies.  Relationships, exchanges of information; whatever the case may be they tend towards lies.  The problem there is that you don’t know all they times they’ve acted like assholes until you see it all in retrospect after they’ve been revealed.  It does, however, take a moderately smart person to do that.  And no on is really above lying or at least selective honesty to achieve the social balance of their preference.

            So, dumb people act like idiots, smart people act like idiots but with a goal in mind.  An example of the first category would be a frat boy or sorostitute (I see frat boy as an equally insulting term), an example of the latter would be a Republican.  Some people, the latter group that we tend to agree with, may fall into a third category.  These people only have moments of mental laxity but that infrequency makes them all the more memorable and trying.

What I think I’m getting at is that the standard for cerebral ineptitude (read: dumbness in hick) for the human race should be revised.  Not be cynical but everyone seems to have their moments of idiocy.  It’s just that some people also have other’s moments as well.  Shouldn’t we update what we expect from people, tone down our expectations?  Or at least change our reaction.  Instead of getting upset at the requisite events we should be more open.  I’m not saying to accept them, just treat them as destined.  We all become disappointed at some of the people we know when they turn the truth of their perceptions outward and you find out that things aren’t as they seem.  We all get fed up with the drunken moron in our hall who thinks that shouting in a stage whisper actually helps keep secrets.

 My advice?  Expect idiocy from everyone.  Simply consider the person when trying to anticipate its form.  Honestly, people deserve a lot less credit than we give them.   It’s just that some people are better at hiding it.  And others vomit it out on a regular basis.  With no subtlety.  All over the bathroom floor.  Every Saturday night.  Assholes.

The Music Issue

            Ok, enough is enough.  It’s time to take a break from republican bashing (hard to do) and pithy social commentary (hard to do).  It’s time for me to return to my roots, take a dip in the fountain of pretentiousness.  Yes, this is The Music Issue.

First of all, I do think that it’s important to let all of you out there know that
A) I don’t own a TV and therefore don’t watch MTV and
2) I don’t listen to the radio

So, where do I get my fabulous new music?  Two main sources, aside from recommendations from people.  The first is The Princeton Record Exchange.  Cheap, random CD purchases has a lot going for it and I highly recommend it: Completely untainted by mainstream demand; hit and miss at low, low prices; and the topper is if you find a gem you’ve got the instant gratification of knowing someone else passed over it.  You’re better than someone else after just one good find!  Brilliant!  A couple of incredible hits that have been or can be found at PRX:

            White Mud Freeway

Electronica tinged folk.  Great flowing stuff.

            Mylab

Hip-hop tinged jazz.  Think Ocean’s 11 soundtrack, but real music.

            Cry Baby Cry

Imagine the power of ancient Egyptian gods.  This band wielded such power.  They are a fallen testament to a grand and eternal empire.  At any time they could reach out and bring punk to a new level of spirituality and civilization, but fall because of internal struggle.  This is one of the best punk bands ever, with a disturbingly perfect grasp of form, lyrics and appeal.  A true one album powerhouse.

The other source of music is 3Voor12, and these are recommendations from there.  Nay, commandments.  Mitzvoth.  Truth.

La Breeze by Simian

The video itself is enough to stun with it’s indy simplicity and irony.  The music is simple, evoking a structure that’s been likened to John Lennon.  Oddly enough, when I heard this I thought of Sean Lennon and his explorations.  There’s a fun, sinister force at work here.  Like anger or angst actually aimed in a creative direction.  Very fun.

            Canada by Low

Smooth and sweet to the ears, this is oddly one of Low’s harder tracks.  It’s one of those tunes that tickles you inside like you’ve heard it before, even if you haven’t.

Everybody Knows and Tumble and Fall by Johan

Kick Out the Chairs by Munk

            This starts to get into the angry realm.  Ridiculous video.  Possibly meaningless music.  Worth putting in your head

                        Dance With Me by Adam Green

            The ultimate in post-ironic rock.

                        Voor Ik Vergeet by Spinvis

            Might depress the hell out of you, but it’s beautiful.

                        Come With You by Millionaire

            The video is the pinnacle in sexual rock achievement.

                        Bloc Party and The Subways are a great place to look at the upcoming direction of artistic punkish rock.

                        Trance by Festina Lente is where to go for some screaming metal that doesn’t suck!

                        Oh My Love by Sophia

I Said Pig on Friday by Eastern Lane

The Shy Retirer by The Arab Strap

Club Foot by Kasabian

            Just a few more top picks to pick up around the net.  Honestly, this stuff is great.  You might not like all of it, but there’s bound to be something in there for you so try them.  And besides simply being better to what you’re going to hear elsewhere, this shit is flat out capital.  It’s not just better than what you have, it’s what you should have been listening to all along.

Would you believe...?

             First update of the new (gentile) year.  With the new year, though not because of it, come changes.  I’ve got a new wardrobe, for those of who out there who didn’t get to see me while I was at home.  I’ve also got a whole new schedule.  I’m not terrible excited about the classes.  Jew class with Brosky is ok.  Playwriting is ­– well, I have to deal with a lot of theatre people so it’s taxing to say the least.  Satire feels easy.  Very, very  easy.  Buddhism and Sci-Fi: East and West…  Ok, why is it that when I try to take a non-western course the teacher seems like a complete flake?  Buddhism seems like a basic survey class that I could recreate with a book or two.  Sci-Fi, well, she’s just not that smart.  She seems really into the class and all but the information is high-school level.  And we all know how long ago high school stopped being an adequate source of knowledge.

            Funny story time.

             Setting: Satire.  Time, 10 minutes before class.  It’s the first Monday of the semester so it’s the first meeting of the class.  Most of the people are seated already, waiting for the teacher.  Then, from the hall, we all hear a very loud girl.  Apparently some guy is an idiot.  He’s such an idiot that she needs to say this (not exaggerating) 6 times.  Then she sticks her head in and (loudly, still) asks if this is Satire.  Someone tells her it is.  “Fabulous,” she booms and disappears again.  But we can hear her.  I fear I’ll hear her till the day I die.  What?  (Insert white boy’s name here) got a BMW?  Well, this blonde lets everyone in the class know that he too is an idiot.  And she hopes he crashes it.  Because he’s an idiot.  He should crash it like all of his other $100,000 dollar cars (other?!).  The classroom is silent aside from a few snickers: everyone invested in her conversation now.  I turn to the guy next to me, someone I know from a previous class, and ask “All of them?”.  The class bursts out and stops just as she comes in, sits and starts talking (loudly still) to the girl next to her, much to that girl’s chagrin.

The teacher comes in, class starts and all seems well.  Then he asks if anyone has seen something that they weren’t sure if it was a joke or not.  His example?  A print out of the homepage at W Ketchup (the “W” stands for Washington.  Bullshit).  At the time their slogan was: You don’t support Democrats.  Why should your ketchup?  Of course the boisterous blonde pipes up.  “Oh my god.  Is this class, like, liberal?  And Bush bashing?  Because if it is… I don’t think I can take that.”  The teacher responds that it is a satire class and satire takes aim at whomever is in government, be it on a federal, state or local scale.  She’s not happy.  She lets everyone know this.  The teacher continues and then motions to her to let her know he’s being balanced.  She’s gone.  Her stuff’s there, but she’s gone.  Here’s the kicker.

We can hear her from the hall.  The whole class, the teacher, everyone.  She’s yelling on the phone to her friend again.  “Oh my god.  We have to read Al Franken’s book and stuff!  I know, can you believe it?  I don’t… don’t think I can take this.”  She goes on, but so does the teacher.  A few minutes later she pops back in, grabs her bag and leaves.

That was fucking fantastic!  Who does that?  Bitches about the class in class, leaves, bitches outside the room so the teacher can hear (!) and then leaves?  Stupid, ignorant, trashy republican bitches, that’s who!^[1]  I’m going to miss her.  She provided more entertainment in one evening than I’ve seen from most dumb people in years.  Sigh.

In other news: got my exemption without the threat of legal action this time.  I’m still being hunted by the Cerebral Catalyst for a story, so that’s nice though also a constant reminder that I have no time to write.  End of college looms, so I’m a little odd about that.  Can’t wait to get an apartment with Allison, I’ve got that.  Guess that’s it for now.  I’m sure I’ll have something to report in a day or so.  (Cue ominous music, roll “To Be Continued” in Back to the Future font and raise lights)

 

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 [1]And no, I will not hook up with this one