The other day, I was reading a women's dating blog. The posts consisted of advice on what guys to date or ditch, how to deal with getting dumped, and whether bitching to your girlfriends was good for your relationship. The occasional pearl of wisdom notwithstanding, it was mostly senseless driven and idiocy. The fact that someone had even thought of writing it left me aghast.
And for some reason, I couldn't stop reading it.
Then it occurred to me: I love reading stupid things that make me angry. Other people's stupidity makes me feel great about myself. This is the one and only reason that I have ever participated in a message board; I read someone else's stupidity on the internet, and I feel an insatiable need to tell them how stupid they are.
I am quite certain that this is not a unique quirk to my personality. This is why people become music snobs, wine snobs, book snobs, bowling snobs, football snobs, or anything snobs. We love being smarter than someone about something.
I feel like I had more to write here, but I was just waylaid by the insatiable desire to listen to, and sing along with, "Raspberry Beret" by Prince.
Sunday, September 21, 2008
Tuesday, August 26, 2008
What is this "weblog" you speak of?
So I blew it.
This blog started with a mission, no, a dream. A dream to save the internet! No, not from pop-up ads, or porn, or even time-traveling demons. No, I came to save it from one thing.
The Antichrist!
And I've failed terribly. Fortunately for all of us, somebody else picked up the slack. Take that, evil!
Looks like I'm off the hook! Now I can devote my time to more important topics, like the deciding whether Brett Favre is the second coming of Jesus, or just the original Jesus, revealed after 2000 years of clever fake mustaches and pairs of gag glasses.
Speaking of unbelievably important events, we should consider ourselves very lucky that we were alive to witness the Beijing Olympics, and most important event in American Olympic history: The finals of the Laid-Backstroke. Aaron Peirsol vs. Ryan Lochte in the all-out battle to determine who's the most free-wheelin', wave-catchin', fun-lovin' dude around. Lochte pulled it out in a close one. Personally, I was shocked at the pace, as I had envisioned something a little more like this.
Come back soon for something a bit more serious. I'm not in a ranting mood right now, as my friend just made cake.
This blog started with a mission, no, a dream. A dream to save the internet! No, not from pop-up ads, or porn, or even time-traveling demons. No, I came to save it from one thing.
The Antichrist!
And I've failed terribly. Fortunately for all of us, somebody else picked up the slack. Take that, evil!
Looks like I'm off the hook! Now I can devote my time to more important topics, like the deciding whether Brett Favre is the second coming of Jesus, or just the original Jesus, revealed after 2000 years of clever fake mustaches and pairs of gag glasses.
Speaking of unbelievably important events, we should consider ourselves very lucky that we were alive to witness the Beijing Olympics, and most important event in American Olympic history: The finals of the Laid-Backstroke. Aaron Peirsol vs. Ryan Lochte in the all-out battle to determine who's the most free-wheelin', wave-catchin', fun-lovin' dude around. Lochte pulled it out in a close one. Personally, I was shocked at the pace, as I had envisioned something a little more like this.
Come back soon for something a bit more serious. I'm not in a ranting mood right now, as my friend just made cake.
Sunday, February 10, 2008
We Are Sieves of Time
I assume almost everyone has seen the new NBA promotions, with the dramatic freeze frame shots and the classy font popping up everywhere, proclaiming NBA basketball to be everything from an ancient Indian burial ground to the place where babies come from. I must say, they're a tad bit melodramatic (which in itself is sort of a homophonic oxymoron; when was the last time anyone was mellow and dramatic at the same time?) but they work for one reason: the music.
It's a solo piano piece that is quiet, understated and absolutely heart-wrenching. It actually can make you feel, if just for a second, that watching Rasheed and Ben Wallace post up on each other in freeze frame is akin to brothers fighting across the lines of the Civil War. Assuming they wore sweatbands back then, of course.
My roommate and I have discussed this a few times. He, though he is nothing of a basketball fan, was also captivated by the piece. He researched it, and found out it was originally the score behind an artsy viral video that came out a few years ago (Which one, you say? This one.) The video catalogs photographs of one man, every day, for over 6 years. His then-girlfriend composed the piece especially for the video. However, he was such an ass that once the work started receiving critical acclaim, he shoved her out of the spotlight. Hence, then-girlfriend.
My roommate's opinion is that this was totally unjust, as the video is worthless without the music. I finally got around to watching it, and though I do agree that it is not the same without it, the pictures are probably what moved me the most.
The first thing that catches your eye is that despite different locations, lighting or status of bed-head, he frames the photos such that his face, the center of the picture, remains essentially the same. This creates an interesting sort of strobe affect on the background while still giving you something to look at; cool, yes, but hardly moving.
What really gets me, though, is the fact that his face is changing. He's not a child at first, and by no means is he an old man at the end, but after a while, you start to see him weathering. His eyes get darker, he face gets wider, even his generally plain facial express starts to fall. If you skip from the beginning straight to the end, it's even more pronounced. The clip ends with the statement "A Work in Progress", which, to be honest, comes off as really stupid. Still, it's true. Time isn't done with him yet.
In short, the world is continually reminding me that I am only getting older.
Alas.
It's a solo piano piece that is quiet, understated and absolutely heart-wrenching. It actually can make you feel, if just for a second, that watching Rasheed and Ben Wallace post up on each other in freeze frame is akin to brothers fighting across the lines of the Civil War. Assuming they wore sweatbands back then, of course.
My roommate and I have discussed this a few times. He, though he is nothing of a basketball fan, was also captivated by the piece. He researched it, and found out it was originally the score behind an artsy viral video that came out a few years ago (Which one, you say? This one.) The video catalogs photographs of one man, every day, for over 6 years. His then-girlfriend composed the piece especially for the video. However, he was such an ass that once the work started receiving critical acclaim, he shoved her out of the spotlight. Hence, then-girlfriend.
My roommate's opinion is that this was totally unjust, as the video is worthless without the music. I finally got around to watching it, and though I do agree that it is not the same without it, the pictures are probably what moved me the most.
The first thing that catches your eye is that despite different locations, lighting or status of bed-head, he frames the photos such that his face, the center of the picture, remains essentially the same. This creates an interesting sort of strobe affect on the background while still giving you something to look at; cool, yes, but hardly moving.
What really gets me, though, is the fact that his face is changing. He's not a child at first, and by no means is he an old man at the end, but after a while, you start to see him weathering. His eyes get darker, he face gets wider, even his generally plain facial express starts to fall. If you skip from the beginning straight to the end, it's even more pronounced. The clip ends with the statement "A Work in Progress", which, to be honest, comes off as really stupid. Still, it's true. Time isn't done with him yet.
In short, the world is continually reminding me that I am only getting older.
Alas.
Tuesday, January 8, 2008
Interim Blog Post
I finally have a computer again, in addition to finally having a slightly sunnier disposition. Once I really get some free time in the coming weeks, I'll be all about writing this. For now, I'll ask you this: If I told you that Britney Spears paid photographers to take embarrassing photos of her, would you believe it?
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