An Actual Blog Entry
You know what else I am? I'll tell you: I'm a member of the Columbia House DVD Club. Why? Because, let's face it: it's our duty as Americans to buy as many things as possible, and I want to do my part. Anywhoo, like many book/movie/CD/dildo clubs, Columbia House has a monthly selection that you have to accept or decline, and if you don't decline it, they simply send it to you. As such, the Club routinely puts me in the awkward position of thinking things such as, "Hmmm...do I really want to own a copy of Ghost Rider?" It's a weird place to be, mentally, let me tell you. What's even worse is that I have two accounts, because I'm crafty like a mongoose that was bred with a ninja and then taught how to turn invisible, so every time I make one of the aforementioned decisions, I have to immediately make it again, which is even more confusing than before. I have to actually waste brain power thinking things like, "I know that I just decided that I don't want to own Stomp the Yard...but was that really the right thing to do?" What is the point of telling you all of this? There is none. I have no point at all. But you know what? When I'm dead and gone, there will at least be no doubt as to my attitude towards the Columbia House DVD Club's selection of the month. I for one take comfort in that. Maybe when I die, I can hook things up so that there's an LCD display on my tombstone, and it just displays all the blog entries I've written over time. That would be awesome. Except maybe if you were visiting someone else's grave and you subsequently learned about my controversial views concerning pornography, global warming, and how all babies should be died blue (just for fun). But I guess that's what you would get for being nosey and looking at the tombstone of someone whom you didn't know, right? Right. Where was I? Oh yeah, Stomp the Yard: cool fucking movie. I especially like the part where they dance.
You know who was never into dancing? Simon & Garfunkel. I'm not sure why this is/was. I mean, if you can find a song with a more rump-shaking beat than The Sound of Silence, I'd love to know about it. I'm mentioning them because I just saw this headline on a web site: "Simon & Garfunkel Reunite At D.C. Concert." That's all well and good, except that when I first read it, I thought it said "Simon & Garfunkel Reunite At AC/DC Concert", and I couldn't help but be impressed--finally, it seemed, those guys have stopped being pussies, and they're not afraid to tell Brian Johnson to cram it for a moment, as they stop Whole Lotta Rosie and then bust out The Boxer, much to the dismay and confusion of everyone around them. Ballsy, to say the least. Except, it apparently didn't happen, so it really is to say the least, if you know what I mean. Yeah. All I'm saying is that I want Simon & Garfunkel to fight AC/DC on-stage, winner-take-all. Is that too much to ask?
Incidentally, I'm noticing that now that I've turned 30, more and more of my entries seem to be about how I saw something on the Internets and was all, "WHA?!?!", only then I re-read it realized that there was nothing "WHA?!?!"-worthy about it. Does this mean that I'm already a sad old man confused by the world and frightened by loud noises, afraid to leave his basement for fear of being assaulted by roving gangs of iPod-wielding teenagers who are riddled with weird piercings? I suppose it does. Shit. At least I have the smooth sounds of the FostTen to take the edge off: The Icarus Line--Up Against the Wall Motherfuckers, The Icarus Line--Kiss Like Lizards, The Icarus Line--Getting Bright at Night, Converge--Locust Reign, Black Cross--Roll Up Your Sleeves, Black Cross--A Feast of Snakes, Black Cross--11:59 Answering the Call, Sloan--Blackout, Bullet Treatment--Is It What You Tasted, Willie Nelson/Merle Haggard/Ray Price--Lost Highway.
Song of the Week: Bullet Treatment -- Is It What You Tasted
Album of the Week: Transistor Transistor -- Erase All Name and Likeness
Movie of the Week: One Soldier
Quote of the Week: "When, grown older, we look back on the selfishness of the people who've been mixed up with our lives, we see it undeniably for what it was, as hard as steel or platinum and a lot more durable than time itself. As long as we're young, we manage to find excuses for the stoniest indifference, the most blatant caddishness, we put them down to emotional eccentricity or some sort of romantic inexperience. But later on, when life shows us how much cunning, cruelty, and malice are required just to keep the body at ninety-eight point six, we catch on, we know the score, we begin to understand how much swinishness it takes to make up a past. Just take a close look at yourself and the degree of rottenness you've come to. There's no mystery about it, no more room for fairy tales; if you've lived this long, it's because you've squashed any poetry you had in you. Life is keeping body and soul together." -- Ferdinand Bardamu (Louis-Ferdinand Celine)
