Thursday, March 31, 2011

Awesomesicles

Arrested Development is a television program that ran from 2003-2006, and while it is a funny show and all-around pretty good, I have found that sometimes people identify with the show as a means to establish intellectual dominance - in much the same way someone might like Frasier. This is unacceptable.

Recently, when out to dinner at the Fireplace in Southington, and, mind you, where part of our group was standing and chatting away from the group with some hanging-on interlopers, while we were trying to eat, which of course was very disconcerting and I'm fairly certain rude, the topic of Arrested Development came up quite excitedly from a member of the group. I agreed that the show was good, but added that it was over-rated. This caused great indignance on the part of the late-twenties female I was talking to, who immediately challenged me to produce no less than four better shows. I thought four was a bit much.

Surprised by the idea of any sudden challenge, let alone something so inconsequential and aggressively posed,  I immediately went blank, having not worn the right kind of shoes for this terrain. After taking a moment to get footing and take a breath, I was able to quickly spout in succession, a stream of superior shows: The League, Bored to Death, Modern Family and It's Always Sunny in Philadelphia* were the first ones that came to mind. In a purposefully crass show of brute dominance I held out my hand with my thumb hidden behind my palm, wiggled my downward pointing fingers and said: "Awesomesicles!"

* I actually referenced The Inbetweeners here, but wasn't able to remember what the other show was at the time of pressing.

Wednesday, March 30, 2011

Swearing at Bus Drivers

Thanks Dave for the Octopotamus...

Long gone are the days of my youth, days spent swearing at bus drivers and being an all around insolent little twit. No, these are gritty days, hard times to be of the over-informed - anything you've ever wanted to know is at your fingertips, instantly, bringing along it's heady weight. And the future is no brighter, as we are on the cusp of a very dull and dark time that lacks any cultural richness, a time when the only movies that get made made are an endless stream of Crocodile Dundee remakes...

There comes a time, for some it's their twenties, for others, like me, it's their thirties, when a person has to decide whether to shed all the adventure and excitement, and the wonder that comes with it, and come to grips with the concept of life. This is an ugly prospect, to be absolutely certain - this business of growing up or remaining a child forever. You can choose to pick up the harmonica and play along, but in the end, you are saddled with the choice. But for those who are lucky enough, those who can read between the lines, those like myself who squeeze in between those lines, there is a nice little space in there where there is no need to choose. It's not limbo, it's something far, far better.

Monday, March 28, 2011

Revenge of Thunderpuss

Under direct orders from the Wild Beast Tamer we keep on retainer to deal with such things, we've put our hundred pound cat, Thunderpuss, on a diet. That rat bastard went as far as to outline the hidden costs associated with completely cutting the beast off from food altogether and simply letting her hunt; describing the woes of some poor fool who's critter went into full-on liver melt down from what I can only guess was a gross lack of protein and extreme build-up of uric acid in the veins. Having only asked how much to feed her, this extreme response was unsettling, but what did I expect - the man had only one eye and lost both of his feet to diabetes years ago.

Since then, we've cut her intake in half - down to 3 lbs of raw London broil a day, and only one neighborhood child a week as a lite snack. But it's not all peaches and cream... lately, she's been seen wandering aimlessly with a glazed look in her eye, smelling the air. She's looking for prey - just last night she pounced, came within inches of my face and nearly overtook me. I wouldn't have made it out alive if I hadn't conjured up a pure, dominant, alpha presence. Our poor dog doesn't stand a chance.

Friday, March 25, 2011

I Demand Satisfaction! Death to Assholes!

From a recent conversation with my close personal friend and known conspiracy theorist, Zac, I came to a meaningful conclusion about threats to our individual rights, and also realized the easy way to resolve the same.

I try not to think too long or too hard about Rights because I inevitably get a mind-breaking ice cream headache - but the simplicity of this vision came to me with the suddenness of street violence and with absolutely no forethought. People who wish to effect our rights get into power because no one has struck them down, and that is because the Duel of Honor has gone out of vogue.

Without Honor Dueling, any jerkoff can do whatever he wants - within the law - and get away with it, no matter how wrong or assholish it is. For example, Scott Walker would never have made it to Governor without being either shot or stabbed by a righteous man. And even if he did, there would be a line of middle-school librarians at his door, right now, demanding satisfaction. And I'd be willing to bet he doesn't have the stones to own up and face his maker against each poor bastard he's wronged or slighted.

So I pose this - we bring back the Duel of Honor, if for no other reason than to keep rich assholes from being rich assholes and shitty politicians from being shitty politicians. I hear if you head South you can get a lightly used set of dueling pistols cheap...

Thursday, March 24, 2011

Good Choices from Bad Decision Country

Although this is officially Bad Decision Country, and I am currently the Mayor (or Grand Marquis, depending on who you ask), it is my unmistakable ability to identify these Bad Decisions which puts me in an authoritative position to help others make informed decisions based on quality - good or bad.

It is in this way that, whilst driving someone else's car and it's thoroughly intoxicated owner back to my place to crash following the Saint Paddy's Day show, that I painted a picture of life in a land without intelligent interaction or any meaning whatsoever. A place where grizzled beards are not ironic and the alcoholism is just a cruel side-effect of deep loneliness. And for all this pain and suffering the motivational compensation is truly pittance, however flashy. Who moves to Maine for a Kia, give or take?

It was a good heart to heart with a meaningful outcome. This decision, explained in further detail on her blog here, was just a weird little blip in an altogether strange weekend. But just so I'm absolutely clear: Kat, I am taking credit for your decision.

Wednesday, March 23, 2011

TigerMomBlood

"We walk the streets at night, we go where eagles dare..." - Where Eagles Dare, Misfits

A few weeks ago I caught wind of this TigerBlood internship shenaniganza, and as you can imagine, I applied immediately. A paid summer of misadventure with a known psychopath... I even made it deep into the second round of interviews, on the strength of my blog alone, before I got the axe. It could've been great, but it's for the best that I didn't get that gig - it really could have only ended one way. Together, Charlie Sheen and I would have formed a crude bad decision engine powered by meanness and liquor - a self-perpetuating positive feedback loop of increasingly questionable behavior and traumatic outbursts that would have eventually lead to no less than one death, and maybe as much as the overthrow of a small South American government or even the seceding of a Midwestern state. Of course, at best, it could have lead to fully armed rescue mission to Libya to save the children, bring them to LA, and nurse them back from the brink on TigerMomBlood - straight from the teat.

To be honest, though, I'm probably just on the cusp of being too old to be an intern, and I gave up TigerBlood years ago - I've moved on to something a little more... potent. And difficult to acquire. What I yearn for must be hunted, snuck up upon, and consumed immediately and straight from the tap or else run the risk of sudden and irreversible paralysis of the legs, migraines and other emotional symptoms.

What is this Nectar of the Gods you ask? It's the blood of the Tigrilla. The only source is an elite hybrid - a genetic blend of tiger and gorilla, only recently developed by a team of arcane scientists in a high tech and heavily fortified lab out in the jungles of Guangdong, China. These big bastards have the looks, temperament and martial arts skills of a Thundercat, which makes it rather difficult to sneak up on and drink from. But what can I say, I go where eagles dare.

Tuesday, March 22, 2011

Slowly Getting Back to Neutral

 "When Saturday night kicks your ass, pick you face up off the floor, slap it back on and TRY AGAIN." - Me

Sure, there comes a time in every man's life when enough dangerously good times get packed into a single weekend, and in a very special way you are left crippled, curled-up, half conscious and with little faculty left, let alone reason. Some may shy away from these super-weekends, turn their backs, cowardly, and pray for some solace or retribution. This is wrong. The appropriate response is to grab on to whatever is hanging down and swing.

This weekend was one of those times. I wrung myself through one Saint Paddy's show and a series of birthday parties. All weekend I couldn't get back to neutral - my tally just wouldn't zero out. I went into Thursday at about a solid negative five, then continued in a downward spiral until Sunday morning, when I was sitting in a booth at a diner, twitching like a creep and in some deep state of mental shock and emotional exhaustion, mumbling these things about not being able to get back to neutral, not being able to zero out, to a mostly confused and concerned group. All of my blood had gone bad, spoiled, and my soul had been wrung out.

Thursday, March 17, 2011

Saint Paddy's Day - Blissfully Demolished

"Just like James, I'll be drinking Irish tonight..." -Against Me!, Pints of Guinness Make You Strong

Tonight is the night - it is Saint Patrick's Day, which as you know is more or less Devil's Night for the drunk and Irish. It is also the night of the Big Show. The band will be playing tonight to a near sold-out crowd at Webster Underground in Hartford. And it promises to be a total Shitshow. This is what Shakespeare meant when he wrote "Beware the ides of March." The Horror...

Good timing, because it is also the night of the Album Release. Hell and High Water couldn't stop the inevitable - after six year of on-and-off recording, Bloodshot Hooligans, Bring Back the Spirit is on sale now. It was only a matter of time, really, but six years is a long, long time in the realm of local music - so much so that the landscape has literally changed... apparently, local bands don't put out CD's anymore, they release albums online. That's a hell of a wake-up call - it's like going in to record a tape in '88 and finally releasing a CD in '94. Or a fucking laser-disc.

But on to the show, because that's what's important. Tonight is the aforementioned Shitshow, which won't be a kiss-me-I'm-Irish event, there will be No Mistletoe here... No, this will be a night dedicated to Jameson, Guinness, sweat, sing-a-longs and ear-busting guitars. I might even crank that fucker to Eleven... all in the hopes that when the smoke clears and the dust settles, you will find me, lying in my own bed, curled into a ball as small as I can get, with my thumb in my mouth, utterly and completely blissfully demolished.

Erin go bragh...

Tuesday, March 15, 2011

Eating Apples is Arrogant

Certain objects, and your interaction with them, can affect a certain posture to your presence. Everyday items can be props without you even realizing it, therefore it's important to choose the right one.

In the spirit of this, I have been running some experimenting with apples. Apples, if used correctly, are the idea power-prop. Typically, if you see someone wielding a phallus such as a staff, wand, cane, sword, umbrella, etc... you know what they're trying to do. They're attempting to draw some kind of power from holding it, right out there for the world to see, while ensuring that it's bigger than the next guy's. As you can imagine, this is inherently weak because of the implication: "I am small, I sport diminished capacity and have nothing to really hang my hat on, so to speak. I must adorn myself with all things long and thick if I'm to establish any dominance... I have a tiny wang."

This is where the apple comes into play, albeit briefly. The apple is a fruit and has an implied vulnerability - and it's clearly no phallus. But the magic of the apple is in eating it, at slightly inappropriate times. The crisp snap of the bite, the dribble of juice on your chin... it's a very intimate thing to do in a meeting, while rebelling, while interacting with clients, while denying wrongdoing, while walking quickly and with purpose, even while poking your head into someone's cubicle to ask about the TPS reports.

My advice: Stock up on Red Delicious or Empire and think deeply about conquering others, because eating apples is the new arrogant power move.

Friday, March 11, 2011

Earthquake Rattles Team Sheen


I was really hoping to not have to mention Charlie Sheen again this week, but alas...

Charlie Sheen stalled in his Guinness Book run-up early Friday morning as an 8.9  magnitude (thanks Mel) earthquake struck Japan. The scene on the ground was frantic as Sheen's publicity team scurried to develop an elaborate, last-minute stunt involving various large zoo mammals and orthodontic equipment when a Golden Ticket was dropped in their laps - in the form of an obsessed Amish man and potential Sheen intern Breaking and Entering.

The earthquake, weighing in just a mere 1.1 magnitude shy of Epic, caused widespread politeness and shy naval-gazing in the streets. Early reports indicate that the Central Air is working and there is plenty of whiskey.

From Wikipedia: Magnitude 8.0-8.9 - Great - Can cause serious damage in areas several hundred miles across.

Special thanks to my friend and resident of Japan, Meljo, for the insight. Mel and Matt, stay safe and gather weapons. 

Thursday, March 10, 2011

Scott Walker is a Poon

"Tommy used to work on the docks, union's been on strike, he's down on his luck. It's tough, so tough..." - Living on a Prayer, Bon Jovi


Very little is absolutely certain in Wisconsin right now, but just for grins, lets run down the facts shall we?

- Wisconsin Governor Scott Walker is an awful, greed-hungry, power-mad, vindictive, spiteful bully and big-time corruption-boner Poon who craps greasy corporate swag leftover from his weekly open-invite backdoor gangbang - clearly a lobbyist for the over $200k set.

- The general consensus of the work that teachers do is grossly underestimated. During those nine months they work just as much as anyone else does in a whole year.

- By reducing compensation, Wisconsin is attempting to push good teachers out of the state, and hiring scabs in their place. These are the people raising your children, you blind and arrogant dummies!

- Anyone with any clout in WI already sends their kids to private school. Of course they would rather see all those tax dollars go into the pockets of the companies they run, by way of tax incentives, etc... instead of schools.

- The WI Republicans are unbashfully anti-poor. Heed my words - within twenty years they will be stalking urban streets with automatic weapons, fine cigars hanging from gritted teeth, hunting man.

- There have never been so many Talking Heads on the News who earn dramatically more than $50k a year talk about how $50k a year is too much to pay a teacher, let alone the Middle Class. I'm sure their hair stylists make well above that.

- This may very well open the door to a new Anti-Union movement. Be warned: after worker's rights, civil rights go shortly after...

Wednesday, March 9, 2011

Dog Wears Monocle, Decides Fate

The following excerpt is from a text message conversation between Jenny and I discussing whether to bring the dog to our friends place this weekend.

Key:
dj - Django, our Australian Shepherd
breeders - a term of endearment for adult friends with kids

Transcript:
Jenny: Do u want to bring him?
Me: Up to u
Jenny: No, up to u
Me: Up to dj
Jenny: How r we gonna know what he wants to do?
Me: He's very smart
Jenny: Yes, but do u think he will put on a monacle and sit upright in a chair sipping lattes while telling us his feelings on going to burlington 2 hang with w/breeders?
Me: Yes.
Jenny: Okay, well as long as he will express his feelings like that, I guess we're okay

Tuesday, March 8, 2011

Mindbending, Twenty Pound Cat

“I hope if dogs take over the world, and they choose a king, they don't just go by size, because I bet there are some Chihuahuas with some good ideas...” - Jack Handy

It looks like I will be attempting to write up the Art of Speed show, in short order, and submitting it somewhere. There is photographic evidence, out there, of my inebriated note-taking in some hip young bar in downtown Middletown, so the jig is up. I haven't yet looked at those notes... I'm too afraid. I remember scratching something out in the bleak darkness on the ride home, from the back seat of my own car - it was that kind of night. It takes some considerable skill to write when you can't see...

I feel the need to reiterate the genius that is Charlie Sheen. I'm convinced that he failed in trying to connive some unscrupulous pay upgrade, and in retaliation is torpedoing the show with excessive strange behavior and megalomaniacal social media mindbending. Kudos to him, it's a hell of a ride.

Lastly, from left field: the cat's asshole exploded on Sunday night. This is no metaphor - ruptured anal gland, vet, antibiotics, recovery... It's a bit like Weird Christmas, she runs around exited, surprised, constantly stopping to look behind her. Good News: contrary to the assumed facts, this twenty pound isn't to fat to clean herself.

Monday, March 7, 2011

A Violent Torpedo of Truth

"fastball. the trolls are foaming from their toothless holes. rumor mill abundant with evil gossip. mainstream heretics smirking..." - Charlie Sheen 

I finally pulled my head out of my own ass long enough to investigate the Charlie Sheen Tweets and one thing is abundantly clear - the man is suffering from the kind of genius only money can buy. Money and a lot of drugs. But that's fine - it used to be that there was absolutely nothing more mesmerizing than watching a millionaire celebrity playboy cannonball himself around Hollywood, hopped up on goofballs, taking down any target he could get into his sights. But that has all changed now that some evil scientist has wired a high-speed CAT5 cable directly into the Id of their King.

I can only imagine what the world looks like through Charlie Sheen's eyes - it must be some early 90's version of Virtual Reality, everything in flat colored polygons with no detail, barely in 3D. Oh, what I'd pay to ride that Being John Malkovich carnival roller coaster - woo, boy! - with no brakes, speeding down that numb tunnel of crazy, taking down everything in my path, drinking Tigerblood and soaring on the wings of a pterodactyl...

But all that is neither here nor there. The Art of Speed show opened on Friday in Middletown, and from every angle I saw, it was a success. The opening was sponsored by Narragansett beer, so they poured that, keeping it classy by serving about four ounces at a time. These tiny cups of beer became impossible to manage as I had nothing to gauge them against, and they quickly got under me. As the art show settled down and after several strange conversations, we made our way to the after-party at Eli Cannon's where I managed to spill half a pint of delicious Sierra Nevada pale ale on Leigh's Iphone. #winning

Friday, March 4, 2011

Lowbrow Art Descends on Middletown, Scares Natives

"No, ma'am, I haven't seen my daddy in years. But my mama say he's out racing cars and, well, dipping his wick in anything that moves." - Ricky Bobby

Tonight's the night - the Art of Speed hot rod art show opens tonight at MAC 650 Artspace gallery at 650 Main ST in Middletown. The show features a surprising amount of Japanese artists, which is relevant to my interests because I am an honorary Asian...

The show is being put on by the same guy who brought us the Hot Rod Fall Out, so if all goes according to plan, it should be just as good. It seems that the promoter is selfishly trying to bring cool things to our fair state and instigate the development of a burgeoning scene.

It should be a good show - Fast Cars, Loose Women and Strong Drinks... how could you go wrong? I may even attempt to cover it from some confused mental state. But the bottom line is: I will be prepared - I have flushed The Fear from my mind, and so should you.

Thursday, March 3, 2011

How to Win the Future

Good News - the Future is yours for the taking! Deciding to fight the Present for Total Domination can be empowering, but be warned, the Present is a very violent and persistent thing. The Present will stop at nothing to see you submit, on your knees, cowering and sobbing like a weak and feeble little punk. Then it will bare it's teeth and consume you. Remember: Today is the first day of the rest of your miserable existence - make the most of it!

Don't sit around your house or apartment, wearing nothing but stained and threadbare underwear and socks, eating TV dinners and microwave burritos, waiting for your Sputnik Moment. Make it happen now! Break into your neighbor's house and steal that barking dog, bribe the police to cover up that DUI, hire a personal assistant or goon to do your bidding - it's your responsibility to future of this country!

The key to Winning the Future is to make decisions for other people before they get the chance to do it to you! Seizing the day is for fools - to Win the Future you must seize whole months at a clip, stepping on whatever unfortunate peons get in your way! Smash your enemies, verbally abuse your direct supervisors, swerve recklessly into oncoming traffic! Cater to your Id or be fleeced like a common proletarian!

The Present is not real. Everything around you is an elaborate construct developed by advanced Machines, who took over some time ago. The actual year is 2052. Every bit of pain and suffering you feel is the product of an ever-changing program developed by the Machines to simulate actual human existence - not unlike the plot of the Matrix trilogy. Any attempt to awaken from this Utopian dream that the Machines developed for you would ultimately lead to your demise. The Machines love you. Trying to hack the Machines is not advised. Moving in slow motion, while extremely cool and a great use of innovative film-making techniques, is also not advised. Glitches in the system, such as winning the lottery or a bowel movement that requires no wiping, should be reported to the Machines immediately. 

Tuesday, March 1, 2011

How to Sell a Used Car

Selling your used car is a fun and interesting way to meet new people, but it's also a battle of wits which can be extremely psychologically daunting. Not only are you emotionally tied to this piece of the American Dream that you once loved so much, but the pool potential used car buyers is rife with crude and unsavory types who are bent on stealing from you and abusing your good nature. But with a few quick tips, you can defeat the buyer and sell your car in no time!

Figure out a price

The first step is to determine the worth of your car. You can do this by first checking NADA, Kelley Blue Book or Edmunds - these websites have tools to help you estimate the value of your car based on mileage, condition and level of equipment. But be warned - these websites all fail to understand that your car is special due to performance upgrades and fond memories, and is therefore worth much more than fair market value. I suggest being insulted by the low price that these websites assign and indignantly choosing a price that is much greater than what is suggested for Excellent Condition, regardless of body damage, gross mechanical failure or history of multiple collisions. After all, in the world of used car sales, anything goes.

Clean the car

At this point, a lot of experts will tell you to clean the car - this is bad advice. There is no charm in a clean car, you want the car to look well lived in. Nobody wants to buy a car that they can't imagine their Taco Bell wrappers littering the passenger floor or their dirty underwear and socks strewn about the back seat. This will also help you achieve maximum selling price because the filth of the car will imply that you have nothing to hide, and the buyer will appreciate your honesty.

List the car for sale

Never put a For Sale sign in the window of your car as this will draw the attention of teen thugs and terrorists - it is best to use some kind of filter between you and the unwashed masses. I suggest using online classifieds such as Craigslist, Auto Trader and Bargain News. Of these, I strongly recommend Craigslist because it is free, and you don't want to seem desperate.

Crafting your classified ad

This is perhaps the most important step - it allows you to show your wild, creative side, while taking certain liberties with the truth. Don't get bogged down with the specifics - when listing mileage round down about 25,000 miles, when listing the engine size round up at least two cylinders. If even mentioned, any cosmetic or mechanical damage should be described as minor or negligible - no matter what the extent of it is.

Here are some good buzz words to pepper throughout your listing: great running condition, like new, great gas mileage, clean title, little old lady, new tires, Bose... just about anything that sounds good - remember, it's just words.

Showing your car

This is where it gets tricky - as I said before, used car buyers are an untrustworthy and repugnant bunch. They spend their days cruising the streets with large sums of cash in their pockets looking for a victim, waiting for the right moment to snare some unsuspecting car seller with the siren's song of their wad of cash.

Sounds like just what any used car seller would want, but these scoundrels look exclusively for cars that are well out of their price range. From the moment they call, text or email about your car, they are intentionally trying to wear you down. When they finally show up hours after their appointment, they will spend about an hour haphazardly poking, looking and examining things under the hood of the car that they have no real understanding of. They do this because they are lonely and don't know how to form real relationships, and of course, to waste your time.

By this time you will be exhausted from the anticipation of waiting for, then babysitting, the buyer... but it's not over yet. They will then spend another twenty minutes or so walking around the car and telling you that if they buy the car they are going to have to fix this, paint that, get a new this. They become like a lion chasing a zebra, wearing it out until the prey is too tired and just gives in.

The offer

At this point the filthy rogue will attempt to buy the car for half price, because cash is king and they have it right here, right now, in their hand ready to take this burden off your hands. Ignore his laundry list! Don't be lured in by the glamor of the crisp hundred dollar bills he's fanning himself with! The buyer is a pig who should be stuck on a spit an roasted over the flames... let the piggy burn.

To gain a psychological advantage, seek higher ground - stand on a porch or ladder, maybe up a few steps or on a small hill so that you are looking down at the buyer. After some contemplative silence, reach out and touch the buyer's arm or face gently with your hand, this will let him know that you're in charge. Then, in the tone of voice you would use to tell a child her goldfish has died, smile and inform the buyer that you've already turned down an offer that is well above his. This will, of course, be a lie. The faux offer should be just under the price you are looking to get for the car. The buyer will either make a more realistic, acceptable offer or cower at your dominance and scamper away like an old scolded dog. Either way, you win!

Of course, some buyers will just ask over the phone "What's the lowest price you'd take," without even looking at the car. It may seem refreshing for someone to cut right to the bone with such an honest question, but don't be fooled - it is an insult to you and to the very spirit of haggling. The only acceptable response to this question is to say: "I don't negotiate with terrorists," then hang up.

Making the sale

Now that the money is on the table, it is a good time to tell the buyer that you've either lost the Ownership Title or there is a Lien against the car and you don't actually own it outright. This will anger most buyers and scare them off, taking their money with them. But in those rare, shining moments when the buyer is foolish enough to still move forward with the deal without a Title or Bill of Sale, you catch a glimpse into what selling a used car is really all about...