Time to Waste

On a Soap Box #1509

2009-01-05T19:55:00.000-08:00

Gun Control: Can I GET Some!?

Ted Nugent has lost it, he's gone through a meadow, over a hill, and absolutely fucking crazy.

I was watching No Reservations with Anthony Bourdain today, and they did a segment with the Nuge. No need to describe it, as it was exactly like every other time he’s been featured on anything in the last 20 years. Lots of guns, lots of testosterone, and all kinds of intense staring from the snake eyes of this beast in a man-suit. I’m pretty sure that in all of his years of pursuing the “beauty of the kill” he has finally snapped.

We should put the Nuge and Gary Busey in a cellar and let them just hash it out. THAT stare-down would be intense. Froth at the mouth intense.

It’s not the Nuge who scares me though*. It’s the ease with which anyone, including completely bent nutbags like him, can get their hands on giant, fuck-clobbering assault weapons. Where is the rationalization, what could you possibly need an automatic rifle for?

Our government’s permissiveness reflects the way some of us in this country choose to live our lives; constantly with our backs against the wall, protecting our fort. When is the next attack going to be? Who’s at the border? When’s the next 9/11? Some people use them as security blankets, but other people are out there, and yeah, they’re killing people. It’s a sad reality, and we facilitate that reality by living the mantra of personal protection is a right.

Hunting for sport, there’s a justification, but that could spiral off into a completely different discussion. Without casting any kind of value judgment on hunting, where is the need for assault weapons? It’s a one-shot, one-kill affair, not spray-painting.

We are a nation of compassionate and mostly rational people, and small pockets of vigilantes, militiamen, gangbangers, and hicks are fucking things up for the lot of us. Our acceptance of a harmonious relationship with deadly weapons may just have something to do with why a good part of the world thinks we’re a country of cops & cowboys. Just a thought.

This is just one in a billion examples of old world habits of the privileged protecting their privilege. That unique sense of entitlement is alive and well today, just look at Uncle Ted!

Check out this video. Apparently he’s also a sexist and a bit of a racist.

* For the record, I AM scared of Ted Nugent. He is 60 and he scares the shit out of me.

Musical Musing #1509

2009-01-05T10:20:00.001-08:00

Kanye West Does Not Care About Poor People

So I honestly love Kanye West, it's true. I think The College Dropout was easily the most influential Hip Hop record of the last 10 years. Not saying it's the best by any means, but to claim that the landscape of mainstream rap would have been the same without that album is downright ign'ant.

Only if Michael Bay takes over for Christopher Nolan, Nelly.

Remember Nelly? You can thank Kanye for Nelly's newest album Brass Knuckles selling something like 60,000 copies.

No new record till I get the red ring.

Remember Lil Jon? You can thank Kanye for helping you forget the sound of a referee whistle on the radio.

Regardless of how you feel about 'ye as a person, you've got to admit that the man has the whole "not givin' a fuck" attitude on lock down. Instead of putting out another rap record, he went with his gut and composed an album about the death of his mother and his break up. He took his recipe for success and turned it on his head. There's not a single soul sample on this record, and only 2 guest verses from Lil Wayne and Young Jeezy. That's like Death Cab for Cutie making a record not meant to be played at Starbucks (ttw: 2 Ben Gibbard: 0).

He's like my Buddha, not a god, but definitely an inspiration on my lifestyle. I have the outlook down, as many of you have experienced first hand that I do not give a fuck about what folks think about me, but still can't take it to the next level because of one reason: Money.

He's disappointed that I'm not rich. Sorry 'ye!

If you've never had the chance of checking out Kanye's blog, do so now (sometimes NSFW):

http://www.kanyeuniversecity.com/blog/

Kanye (or his assistant) posts some pretty incredible things on here. He hardly ever actually writes anything, but instead fills his blog with shoes, new mp3s, art pieces, modern design, models, and other stuff that costs way too much money. The blog is great, and he's actually posted things before the other major blogs get them (a Justice video if I remember correctly).

But the thing is, I want a lot of this stuff. This clock is amazing! However, going to the designer's site, I am told to email in and ask how much it costs, etc. Yeah, that means it's way too expensive for me. What's the deal, Kanye? Can't you post some stuff within my range? I mean, your music has talked about how you faked it before you got rich, so how about pointing me in the right direction?

Anyway, I guess blogging at work isn't how one makes money...
Victor C.

Bitchy Rant #1509

2009-01-05T03:59:00.000-08:00

I've Got Standards, For Literature.

In order to make a novel irresistible to me, there are only a few simple criteria that need to be met:

A] Reference historical apocrypha, legend, or unsolved mystery
B] Reveal a hidden "factual" foundation to the legend
C] Insert enough legit-sounding details to make it sound academic and well-researched. Add invented footnotes and citations to taste.
D] Top with a long-running international conspiracy theory to add spice.
E] Shake well and publish.

This shit is like crack to me. In fact, I spent all of yesterday reading "The Historian," a bestseller from a few years ago that squarely hits all of these nails on the head. Like The Da Vinci Code, but with better characterization and less plagiarism.

With visions of Dracula and Cold War-era intrigue still dancing in my head, I stopped by the library this afternoon, intent on finding something similarly titillating and addictive for my winter evenings. Hopping off the bus, I congratulated myself for choosing the public library instead of temptation-laded used bookstores.

(New Year's Resolution: save money/no more book-buying until I finish the gazillion unread books I've got at home.)

But my pleasure at this burst of self-discipline did not last long. "Maybe it's just the reading habits of this neighborhood," I told myself. "The librarians are just doing their job. All of these stacks of trashy novels- this is just what the folks in this neighborhood have requested, it's what they want to read."

Making my way down the few aisles of the fiction section, these were the plots I saw in 90% of the books:

-Romance novel masquerading as midlife existential crisis: marriage falls apart; woman takes risks, finds her true self, and discovers the love of her life.

-Romance novel masquerading as historical fiction: life in 16th-century England/14th-century Italy/1st-century BCE Egypt is stifling for beautiful, headstrong woman; she takes risks, finds her true self, and discovers the love of her life.

-Romance novel masquerading as murder mystery or thriller. Man has been wronged (by a woman or a male comrade); he seeks revenge, takes risks, and discovers the true love of his life.

Also:
-Books that have been made into Oscar-winning movies and/or have been featured on Oprah.
-Required reading for high school literature class.
-Chuck Palahniuk.

HOLY FUCK, IS IT SO HARD TO FIND A DECENT BRAINLESS BOOK THESE DAYS? I do not want to read another 200-page book in which a shabby adventure plot serves as the vehicle for an undercooked, one-dimensional romance with sex scenes that read like junior high fan fiction.

If I wanted that, I could've just gone to Borders.

I wouldn't even mind that every single one has the same female character and the same male character that do the same things with only the most minute variations. I wouldn't mind all the stories of suburban adultery and tortured masculinity and leading ladies afflicted with Princess Buttercup-syndrome. I could maybe even handle the fact that there's not a single queer, not even a stereotyped one, to be found. I could do this, if I could be assured in any way of literary and artistic merit to be found in their pages.

But since I found no such assurance, I settled for an Umberto Eco book and slunk back out the library doors. Next time, I'll just play it safe and stick with nonfiction.

Eyes in a book, ears to the street,

Jenn H.

On a Soap Box #1309

2009-01-02T20:13:00.000-08:00

Taco Trucks: A Love Story

I live my life between the meaty musk of Taco Trucks; everything else is a grey blur.

So delicious, so nourishing, so much better than the chains and the sit-downs. The day I discovered fresh cilantro, lime-drizzled beef, radish, onions, majesty; my family, my friends…women I’ve loved: all were dead to me. Taco Trucks are not a game to me, and I’m here to spread the gospel.I love Taco Trucks like some people love Jesus. I found them in my life, and I get upset when other people don’t feel the same way. Seriously, I feel a bit disappointed if someone isn’t willing to at least try it.

Hey, if you don’t like the food, that’s your thing. However, over the years I have had more than a couple of friends who have turned their noses up at the idea of eating food cooked in a truck. It’s always the same excuses, “It’s dirty,” “I’ll probably get sick,” “I don’t even speak Spanish.” That last one is just racist, slow down, Pat Buchanan.I’ve got no love for people who think Taco Trucks are but a trifle, none. In fact, I’m struck by how sanitary these people think food is prepared in a normal restaurant’s kitchen. Do you think we live in a world where everyone washes their hands after deploying bombs? How much do you think honesty and compassion are a part of the fabric of our society? Enough that if someone dropped your steak on a dirty ass ground, they wouldn’t still serve it to you with a smile?

If you’re going to get messed with, it’s pretty much going to happen anywhere, so hop right off that hater train. Why not enjoy DELICIOUS food for a fraction of the price? Let me buy you a taco, I’ve got a pamphlet you should check out.

Bitchy Rant #1209.2

2009-01-02T01:02:00.001-08:00

Ben Gibbard's Comeuppance

Until he died, I was only vaguely aware of Heath Ledger. I thought he was really good in “Brokeback Mountain,” and I was excited to see him play The Joker in “The Dark Knight.” I’ve seen “10 Things I Hate About You” more times than I care to recall. I even watched “Roar” when it was on TV. But when a classmate told me he had died, I was shaken. I could barely recall that day’s lecture because I spent most of the hour thinking about Heath Ledger.

Later, I wondered why Ledger’s death was such a big deal to me. Part of it was surely the reminder that we are all mortal and our lives could expire at any time. But I think another part of it was that, even if we may not consciously think about it, we think of celebrities as people we know. We imagine futures for them. I’m sure many people wondered what Heath Ledger would do after “The Dark Knight,” even if they didn’t really sit there and think about it.

Taken a step further, those imagined futures could involve us in some way. Even if I’d never thought about it before, I now know that any hope I may have had of co-starring in a cop buddy movie with Heath Ledger is now entirely outside the realm of possibility. I can no longer entertain that fantasy. The chances of me co-starring in any film are now greater than the chances of me co-starring in a film with Heath Ledger. But enough about Heath Ledger; what I’m really getting at is that Ben Gibbard is ruining my life.

My high school girlfriend was a huge Death Cab for Cutie fan (“before they got big,” of course), so I was vaguely aware (and vaguely jealous) of Ben Gibbard. I now go to school at Western Washington University in Bellingham, Washington, where Death Cab got their start. Therefore, I’ve heard plenty of stories about how “this dude who knew the dude from Death Cab gave my brother this sofa,” etc. To be fair, I know a dude who knows Chris Walla. But my beef has always been with Gibbard, if only because “Such Great Heights” was the sing-along favorite at so many parties during my first couple years of college.

So imagine my frustration when I discovered that Gibbard was engaged to Zooey Deschanel. You may remember her from such films as “The Happening,” “Hitchhiker’s Guide to the Galaxy,” and “Elf.” She has big hazel-ish eyes and long wavy dark hair that often falls down in bangs over her forehead. Also, she does this adorable thing where she doesn’t open her mouth very wide when she speaks and sort of talks out of the corners. She’s ridiculously cute.

And she’s engaged to this guy:

Really? This guy looks like your weird uncle that sits in the basement and watches Star Trek during family gatherings. He looks like Rivers Cuomo’s reflection in a fun house mirror. Now, I’m sure he’s probably more interesting than me. He’s probably read more classic literature and seen more obscure movies. He’s definitely a better songwriter. He may even be a better lover and all-around more thoughtful and decent human being than I am. But frankly, it’s really easy to superficially mock someone’s physical appearance, so I’m sticking with that.

Oh look, it’s John Krasinski. Man, he’s a looker. And there’s Rainn Wilson back th—HEY, wait a minute, that’s some other four-eyed moon-faced smarty pants!

Yeah, I play the vibes too, fucknut. Have since junior high. Did your percussion ensemble win second place at state? No. That’s what I thought. Jerkweed.

So anyways, whatever my chances were of marrying Zooey Deschanel before, they are now zero. I’m heartbroke. And yet at the same time, I’m still mulling my chances of one day rubbing elbows with America’s new indie sweethearts. As I write this, I think, “What would Ben Gibbard think if he read this? Would he just have a good laugh? Would he even read the whole thing? If I met him in person, would it come up in conversation? Would he be like, ‘oh yeah, you’re that tall lanky dweeb that wrote that blog about me getting engaged to Zooey’? What would Zooey think?”

That’s the magic of celebrities: We are on a first-name basis with them, even though they don’t know we exist. But there’s always the possibility. There was always the possibility that Heath Ledger might one day buy me a drink. And there was always the possibility that Zooey Deschanel might one day give me a smooch on the cheek.

And even as I write this I wonder, “Would Zooey still give me a smooch on the cheek even if she was married to Ben Gibbard, if only to fulfill the fantasy I disclosed in this blog?”

What’s a tall lanky dweeb to do?

Angrily yours,

Steve R.

Bitchy Rant #1209

2009-01-02T01:02:00.000-08:00

Segregation - BULLSEYE!

This is so obviously ridiculous as to be hardly worth commenting upon ... but nonetheless. Pre-Xmas, I was looking for super-twee instruments to give to my roommates. You know, children's rainbow xylophones, kazoos, anything that makes noise and comes in primary colors.

I am Amazoning and eBaying, getting an idea of what's available and price ranges, and a link directs me to a melodica sold on Target's site, the Schoenhut 37-key melodica.

Whatever, I'm not gonna buy gifts for my roommates from Target.

But then I saw the sidebar, where they had Kids' Musical Instruments divided into categories, "Boys' Music" and "Girls' Music." What, drums and trumpets for boys, recorders and pink sparkly microphones for girls?

Not even that!

Although the girls' section featured the addition of a Disney Princess something-or-other- oh, it's a xylophone book- the same gifts were otherwise the same in both categories, even including the Fancy Baby Grand Piano in Pink under the boys' section.

Why even bother?

Sincerely making Steve's anger look like soft kisses, sincerely,

Jenn H.

From the Road #12808

2008-12-28T02:47:00.000-08:00

Cali's Valley

About a year and a half ago I got married and moved to the Central Valley of California. I was so excited about living in Cali and was expecting warm weather, palm trees, and bikinis. Ok, so that's a bit of an exaggeration, but I think you get my point.

The Central Valley is pretty lame. Actually, it's really lame. If you're not a farmer or raise livestock then you really have no business here (my wife makes cheese, so we have an excuse). The "warm" weather consists of our nine months of summer in which the weather is usually pushing 90 to 100 degrees (there are a lot of palm trees, however, and I like palm trees).

I began to get used to the fact that anything I would want to do in a big city would mean an hour and a half drive. It's not completely a bad thing as there are SO many things that lie an hour and a half away (San Francisco, Sacramento, Lake Tahoe). However, none of this stuff is what I am going to rant about. No, I have found something far more annoying in my time here than anything as trivial as the above mentioned.

For every five trucks in the Central Valley, three will have lift kits on them. I grew up in Fife, WA so I'm pretty used to seeing hicks driving up and down the street (and meth labs getting busted), but I've never seen so many lifted trucks in my life. I didn't notice it until a friend pointed it out to me and now it's all I see when I'm driving. I find myself counting trucks that are lifted and creating a ratio in my head of lifted to nonlifted trucks.

The most interesting part of this is the general age group of people driving said trucks. I would have expected to see mostly 20 something young adults romping through town, showing off their prize, but it's generally middle-aged men, often with families in the truck. It's funny how different of a culture it is here than with Washington. Up north, I would expect a man going through a mid-life crisis to be trying to burn out in his convertible Mazda Miata.

There are also a lot of Mexicans here.

Love,

Mike S

Musical Musing #12808.2

2008-12-28T00:47:00.000-08:00

Hip-Hop Went Glam

Hip-hop is in a big slump. Let me amend that, commercial hip-hop is a fucking catastrophe!

As I was driving along today, switching through radio stations, I stopped for a while on the couple of hip-hop/R&B stations we have in Seattle. The music is almost unbearable. Obviously our tastes change as we get older, but seriously, the shit that's on the main stage now is beyond a little whack. It seems like every song falls under three non-mutually exclusive categories:

1. I got cash
2. I got stash
3. I got ass

Money, Cocaine, and booty. That shit is tired and played out.

As I was thinking about these awful songs in the context of the bigger picture, something dawned on me. In the future, maybe ten years or so, we are going to look back at this era of hip-hop as the embarrassing "Glam Phase". Much like rock and roll scenesters look back on bands like Poison, Motley Crue, Whitesnake, and Ratt, and have to hold down the vomit in their throats. Hip-hop heads will look back at this excess and feel ashamed that they bought in to it.

That's how it appears to me, an era of extreme hip-hop decadence. Maybe its a omen for the future of hip-hop, well, commercial hip-hop at least.

With that said, there are definitely great artists and producers doing amazing things all over the country, and all over the world. This bitchy little rant is aimed solely at the Lil Wayne's and David Banner's and Cash Money Motherfuckers out there.

Don't mourn hip-hop, because it will never die. Just don't buy that shit they throw in your face!

Bitchy Rant #12808

2008-12-28T00:42:00.000-08:00

Hey Seattle, FUCK YOU!

Not the people, not the places, just the inadequate parking situation in the city.

You Meter-Monitoring-Motherfuckers are BLEEDING ME DRY! I can't afford to pay to park, and I can't always repark my car every two hours, because, well, I'm trying to do my work. What's a person to do?

I've only been living here for a few months and I keep racking up the parking tickets, the $35 parking tickets. That might not seem like too much, but that shit is financially devastating for me right now. For every couple people who are ballin' in the city, there's a hundred of us trying to pay the rent, and the last thing we need to worry about is digging in our pockets to pay the city's bullshit fines.

After getting another ticket today, I got a little frustrated. Meter Maids are just doing their jobs, but damned if they're not just the perfect place to take out my anger. I'd like to leave a slip on their windshield that reads: Hey Seattle, FUCK YOU!

I guess I could always take the bus, but this is America, I do things on MY TIME!

Musical Musing #12808

2008-12-28T00:33:00.000-08:00

RUSH: Band for the New World Man

In my 24th year, the appreciation I have for the band RUSH has blossomed.

Let me give you a short back story.

At Decatur High School, I had a teacher and track coach by the name of Mr. Rogers. He was a young teacher, only a couple of years out of WSU by the time he took the reigns on my 11th grade English class. This is important to know, because he was a big time child of the 80's.

Over the course of the year, he would drop subtle RUSH references as they related to literary topics we were discussing in class. Of course, they pretty much flew over all of our heads. Then, he did something that stuck with me. He brought in a VHS tape of RUSH videos he had recorded back in the day, and made us all watch one during class. We were reading "Of Mice & Men" at the time, I remember that.

This video was unlike anything I had seen. The singer had an annoying squeal of a voice, the music was all over the place, and there was a baby riding a missle as it cut through the sky. The whole thing was all together corny in a way only something from the 80's can be; soft colors and lots of synth, you know?

The point is, everyone just thought he was a goof, making us listen to his crappy old music.

Fast-forward to now, it wasn't until I got hooked on a Canadian TV show called Trailer Park Boys that I even became half interested in RUSH. I began listening to the parts of their catalogue that I could initially stomach, which wasn't much.

With free time on my hands, I became interested in knowing what Geddy Lee was actually saying with that unique voice. So I started reading the lyrics, and began really liking what I was uncovering about this band. The depth of the lyrics and the complexity of the arrangements finally struck something inside of me, and damnit, I love me some RUSH now!

So, it was a weird journey, but only now, years after they have pretty much been out of the "Limelight" (eh? eh?), am I starting to get what they were trying to do.

Loves it! Thanks RUSH, and thanks Mr. Rogers.

Bitchy Rant #12708

2008-12-27T15:44:00.000-08:00

You Are Not Stevie Nicks.

I had a dream last night, a crazy dream.

There was a hallway of fire and a small part of my brain was removed, but that is not what I came here to write about. It occurred to me earlier today that even though most people are polite, they could give 2 shits about our dreams.

The endless minutia that defines these images in our subconscious are so vivid to us, and by extension of our vanity we assume everyone else will be as blown away as we were. You heard it here first y’all, they never are. Some people will humor you out of kindness, others get paid to take it all in and give you an analysis; again, they could not be less interested.

Of course, there are two exceptions to this general rule, as I see it. Dreams, translated through art, in almost any media, can be downright delightful. Also, because I’m not a complete ethnocentric tool, I acknowledge that some other cultures place importance on meaningful images from dreams. Those two exceptions aside, you’re not going to get anyone hard over the blueberry rain and carpeted-dragons in your mind.

So what’s the point to all this? I’m calling for a social boycott on recounting dreams. Yeah, I said it. Some might see that play out as rude; I’d call it being blunt, or very matter-of-fact with people. Now we’re just arguing semantics.

Let’s not argue semantics, or listen to our friends babble about their dreams anymore.