Bobby Jindal insults my intelligence.
After a pretty good speech from the President (still think this stimulus thing is a coin flip--more on that after I finish ripping into this Jindal cat), the Republican sunk lower than ever by selecting a rebuttal from a man who appeared to be doing an impersonation of Mister Rodgers (at least I hope so). His sing-songy voice was that of a Kindergarten teacher giving a lecture on "Why being an American is so greeaaat!"
He lost me when he started comparing the journey of his immigrant parents to that of Obama's. Why do you have to compare yourself to the man you're refuting? What is that? And how does this Jindal asshole represent the Republican party? As a figurehead of fodder for Jon Stewart? I think I have an idea.
When McCain choose Palin as a running mate, the Republican party was re energized with a feeling that they could match the diversity of the Democrats--Palin was supposed to be the GOP version of Hilary. Sadly, we found out what she truly was, an Alaskan dullard who has no real sense of herself.
As I listened to Jindal make a mockery of his party by sounding like some sort of tour guide for "It's a Small World," I actually found myself becoming nostalgic for an over-the-top Palin speech in Missouri, clucking at the flock of sheep who know not that their intelligence (or lack thereof) is being insulted.
Apparently, the GOP is scraping at the bottom of the barrel. Obama has won over a lot of the party's alpha dogs and the only way they can keep up, in their world view, is by employing a device the Democrats have mastered--diversity.
That being said, we have people like Palin, Jindal and and the new chairman Michael Steele rearranging the deckchairs on the Titanic. Obviously, they are just face people who have no substance who are just megalomaniacal sell-outs who are driven more by their narcissism than what they are paid to do. They suck Satan's cock, to put it colloquially. They are chosen because of what they look like, to show racial and sexual diversity. This, in my opinion, is on the lowest branch of racism.
Can't the Republicans go away for awhile and regroup and restructure their ideology? Do we have to have a rebuttal right now? This is why the political game is ultimately an adolescent one. The other party needs to be on the defensive and say the opposite (even if the opposite sounds like it's coming from an Middle Eastern immigrant voiced by Jim Henson) so they can point back to what they said if and when something fails. Do we really need this shit anymore? I don't. Quite frankly, I'm sick of this mutherfucking bullshit from both sides of the aisle. At the end of the day, a bunch of Republicans being right doesn't equal jobs and mortgage credit. It equals nothing but the same old pomp and circumstance my generation never understood in the first place.
Obama's stimulus might not work. But it might work, too. Even top economists say that ultimately, it's all all in how the money is spent. This is where it could go bad...or it could go good. And that's how I'd like to see this thing go--what's the alternative if we don't start looking at it this way? Keep spending monopoly money and listen to guys like Jindal lull me to sleep with his condescending Kermit impression until we really go broke and we hand over the reigns to a nationalized banking system that will make this place even more of a bummer. To me, that's real socialism--and I could do without it.
Saturday, February 21, 2009
Dear Rotten Denmark,
I'm a heap--a heap of tears, I tell ya! The Ace Man has been ousted from the terrestrial airwaves, rather suddenly. I learned about it on Wednesday--the economic downturn has affected my favorite morning radio show, The Adam Carolla Show is no more.
Those of you that know me, know that I don't obsess about much outside the realm of Pink Floyd and Bret Ellis novels. Another thing that I obsess about is the radio career of one Adam Lakers Carolla. He is by far the smartest voice in radio...and maybe the world.
But fear not, RD--the Ace Man has a plan B. Starting this Monday, his first podcast will be available at www.carollaradio.com and I encourage everyone from the sound of my voice to give it a listen.
I felt I had to do my part--to extend the olive branch, if you will--to you, the little people, my fair readers. There are few sane voices left in this downward spiral we call America. I find hope in humor, not a stimulus package that will redefine socialistic pedagogy.
Get it on indeed!
Your humble narrator,
Friday, February 20, 2009
1. Deadsy - Commencement--This album influenced my novel more than any other. It got lumped into the "Nu-Metal" category rather unfairly.
2. Alice in Chains - Dirt-- The first one my mom took away from me in HS--my introduction to devil music.
3. Pink Floyd - Darkside of the Moon--Best ever. To be fair, I didn't want to double up to get variety on this list--but every album after Meddle (Wall, Animals, Wish You Were Here) are all superior albums--best streak in Rock history in my opinion.
4. Nirvana - In Utero--Nevermind was good, but uneven. In Utero added a little fuzz and Steve Albini, pretentious as the bloke is, did a damn good job "recording" Cobain's last album.
5. Interpol - Turn on the Bright Lights--This album summed up what it meant to live in a post-9/11 world.
6...And You Will Know Us By the Trail of Dead - Madonna--This is and the Source Tags and Codes album are the closest thing any American group has done to mirror the Pink Floyd aesthetic.
7. Tool - Aenima--A successful prog album in the days of Bush and 311.
8. Blur - Blur--Cut the brit-pop out of their act like a gangrene arm with a darker, indie feel.
9. Failure - Fantastic Planet--Saw these guys open for Tool not long after Aenima came out. Best two albums of the late nineties--but I think I like this one a little better.
10. Deftones - Around the Fur--To be truthful, White Pony is probably superior, but this one got me through summer-skool statistics.
11. Beck - Mellow Gold--Better than Odelay. Loser is effed out!
12. Fleetwood Mac - Rumours--Probably the most perfect album ever recorded.
13. Led Zeppelin - IV, Zoso, 4 Symbols - Led at their tipping point.
14. Anthrax - Sound of White Noise--Best metal album ever! Yeah, I said it.
15. Television - Marque Moon--Epic post-punk. If Genesis had sex with Joy Division, this band would be the prodigal offspring.
16. Guns N' Roses - Appetite for Destruction--Best.Album.of.the.80's.
17. The Rise And Fall Of Ziggy Stardust--David Bowie dressed up like a geisha from Ursa Major and sang his little heart out on this one.
18. Pixies - Doolittle--Second best album of the 80's.
19. Radiohead - Kid A--The album that predicted 9/11?
20. King of Leon--Because of the Times--This one will always remind me of grad skool, Trader Joe's and LO'L.
Sunday, February 8, 2009
As I watch this evening's edition of 60 minutes, I am in awe of a man who is humble, eloquent, intelligent and cuts through the bull shit like a hot butter knife.
On January 15 of this year, Chelsey Burnett "Sully" Sullenberger III became the antithesis of a widow-maker. He showed the world his brass balls by successfully laying US Airways Flight 1549 in the Hudson River without causality. Since that day, Captain Sullenberger has enjoyed the Inauguration of President Obama, Super Bowl XLIII, an exclusive interview on 60 Minutes and the creation of his very own Wikipedia page--all in the span of 3 weeks. Boy, do we live in an accelerated society or what.
And if we didn't like Capt. Sully enough, a news story popped up this last week that he called the Fresno State library and confessed that a book he checked out (a book about professional ethics, the guy can't miss) might have a new home at the bottom of the Hudson River. The library forgave any late fees and decided to dedicate the book's replacement to him (and while yer at it FS, name the entire wing of the library after him).
It's rare to have heroes again--and it's something we must embrace and hold high above these other stories of gloom/doom, if-it-bleeds-it-leads media coverage. He said the perfect thing to Couric, that he won't embrace heroism, but he won't deny it either. Goddamn! The man do no wrong.
Sully trumps 'em all. He trumps the passenger on his plane who wasn't satisfied with the settlement from US Airways and is suing the company because he "doesn't feel whole." He trumps the passenger that is taking advantage of her 15 minutes by recording a song about the incident. He trumps Christian Bale's sailor-mouth. He trumps Shane Hurlbut's lack of professionalism. He trumps Nadya Suleman for reasons that are obvious. He even trumps Micheal Phelps because in the end, Sully saved 155 people and inspired a nation to embrace good news again.
And that is a good thing.
* * * * * * * * * * * * * *
That ends my weekend-long evaluation of our Brave New World. What I learned is that just when it looks as if we're going down the crapper as a society, things right themselves, eventually. I hope that Christian Bale gets some help for the demons that haunt him. He's made some really good movies in a climate where there is nothing but diarrhea coming out of Hollywood's arse. I hope that Nadya Suleman gets forced into treatment and all her children are put up for adoption and end up in good homes. I hope that the Michael Phelps ordeal turns into a new dialogue on why drug laws are as archaic as the attitudes towards gay marriage--to evolve we must advance...
And finally, in Captain Sully, I learned that humility is not a lost quality in America--it's just forgotten. All of us could learn a thing or two from this man's sense of doing the right thing before doing the "me thing."
This Obama world is getting weird...
By now, my darling readers, you have heard about the current controversy surrounding 14-time gold medal winner Micheal Phelps. If your head has been buried in the sand over the last two weeks, let me give you an update.
Phelps was at a South Carolina college party where kids were drinking, eating foods made of 50% high fructose corn syrup and engaging in sex with people they don't really like in the real world; college parties are weird like that. Undoubtedly, after Phelps rolled off some co-ed's bed after having sex with her and her roommate, he exited the scene with a bottle whiskey in his hand. Kanye's "Gold Digger" was bumping, the party was jumping and Phelps was slowly coming to the realization of the charmed life he was leading. He was living the dream of every 23 year old male in America. He was big man on a campus he didn't even attend. He's the last great American hero.
The story is speculation to this point. What we do know and what everyone has their panties in a bunch about what happened next. Some hesher, no doubt a white guy in dreadlocks wearing his dad's old Jimmy Buffet shirt, presented Phelps with the peace pipe he called "Iceburgh." With orgasmic endorphins and southern comfort clogging his sense of "good judgment," Phelps took a rip from the pipe that the hesher would later rename "Aquaman" in Phelp's honor. Soon after, the paranoia took ahold and Phelps exited the scene, contemplated the end of the world and fell asleep on a friend's futon.
A couple days later, a photo surfaced on the web--a British tabloid site pronouncing, "What a Dope" next to a picture of Phelps sucking fog from the former "Iceburgh" with the lungs of a human fish. Let the shit storm begin...
Two schools of though are represented in the argument over the Phelps issue--those who want to see the Northern Lights available at Trader Joe's and those who want to see canibus cannibalized. Phelps has become the reluctant martyr, who wants to appease to the straights who appear to be the majority and appeasing to his generation--the generation that will legalize the herb when we get our hands on the reigns...if we get our hands on the reigns.
But pressure from straight society has pushed three issues to the forefront. One is South Carolina's back and forth argument on whether to press charges against Phelps (which they shouldn't--see http://www.huffingtonpost.com/norm-stamper/one-cop-to-another-dont-a_b_164346.html). Secondly, the Olympic committee suspended Phelps from the pool for a couple months (which has made Phelps admit publicly that he his questioning his dedication to the sport as a result--good job Olympics, you just pissed off your cash cow/poster boy for the 2012 games.) And thirdly, Kellogg's has said that they will not be renewing his endorsement contract because he smoked some Weedies.
Okay Kellogg's, you can stop with this holier than thou approach to your commitment to your customer's sensibilities. This company probably contributes more to children's diabetes than any other evil corporation in America. Also, how much money do you think you make on stoners getting high and gorging on pop tarts and rice crispy treats. Get ready to take a hit for your spokesperson taking a hit as a result, you assholes! Not only has the economic downturn spiked your price to hell--think about all the militant potheads that will be consciously buying products from Post and General Mills INSTEAD of your obesity in a bowl. (Incidently enough, upon wiki research for this post, I found that breakfast cereal was invented and perfected in two different sanitariums in the U.S. In fact, Charles "Chaz" William Post was an inmate at a Battle Creek facility where he made his most significant contribution--further proving that most of America's best ideas came from minds of madness. I wonder if these guys smoked weed--or perhaps they should have.)
ANYHOW, what was I talking about? Oh yeah--the ripple effects of this incident are uncovering attitudes that divide us on the marijuana issue. Hopefully we're heading towards a tipping point--where we finally legalize this silly little plant that makes people contemplate how evil the world truly is. Perhaps, the ulterior motive is to keep it illegal so that people won't be able to see things as the way they are?
Perhaps indeed, Drewsus...
The moral of the story: This isn't the 80's anymore. Nancy Regan telling Arnold on Diff'rent Strokes to say no to drugs worked--but the generation that was brain-washed into believing that smoking truth was evil has come to our collective senses--and we're scratching our heads as to why this was--how did we get from the summer of love to Diff'rent Strokes? I'm still confused...but I kinda get it at the same time.
Bottom Line: There is a lot of money to be made on the dumbing-down of things in this country, our collective disagreement on these laws are no exception.
PS - And whoever took the picture of Phelps taking the b-load--a pox on your house!!!
Friday, February 6, 2009
Last week, Nadya Suleman crapped out 8 babies in a questionable case of the absence of medical ethics. Already the "mother" of 6 other saplings, Suleman has been both described as "educated" and "addicted to having children," even though one would think that the former would would trump the later with common sense. One would think.
Look, this illustrates the biggest problem in this country--people having kids they cannot raise. Raising 14 children takes time and commitment...and that's factoring in a father. One person raising a baker's dozen is impossible and child abuse to boot. I might sound like an evil asshole, but I have the firm belief that there is a small corner of hell reserved for irresponsible trolls such as Suleman.
And now she has the gall to ask Oprah for 2 million. So troglodytes are eligible for bailouts? And who is the fertility specialist jerk off who "infected" this woman. Where is the grizzled chief of medicine in all this? Where is the check and balance in medicine. Are they above the law? Is this the wild west for a brave new world? Aldous Huxley's ghost is banging his head to his favorite Iron Maiden record.
The moral of the story: You need a license to drive a car--why don't we start issuing licenses to birth children, where one undergoes a psychological evaluation before conception. And while we're at it, make sure that the breeders are committed to being the hunter/gathers of our society. If you can't fulfill these requirements--sorry, get a dog to fill the void your parents left in you.
Bottom Line: Embryo fertilization is playing god--just like abortion supposedly is. We need to draw lines and make distinctions in this society. We need to face the fact that there are too many fucking people in this country and making decisions to stop bullshit like this, thins the herd a bit. That's a good thing.
Thursday, February 5, 2009
Micros of the Macro: IV things that have transpired so far in 2009 that hold a mirror up to Ugly America
Part I: Would you kiss a Christian with that mouth?
Four things have happened so far in 2009 that make larger statements about the world at large…and none of them have anything to do with Obama directly.
Audio was released last week that illustrated the rancor that Christian Bale was capable of as he unloaded on the director of photography who was fucking with one of his lights during a pivotal scene in “Terminator Salvation.” At first listen, one thinks, “Jesus Christ, what a potty-mouthed prima donna.” But when more detail came out, we learned that cinematographer Shane Hurlbut was pretty much in the wrong in the situation.
Now, I don’t know either party personally—but I feel like I know Bale. Christian Bale is a rare actor. His first movie was the lead in a Spielberg film…at the pubescent age of 13. For those that haven’t seen that movie, a pox on your house. I remember seeing that "Empire of the Sun" at the Fox Theatre with my folks in 1988 and thinking at the time that kid was great. He was spoiled, humbled, starved, and traumatized. Most importantly, Bale was believable in the role, all before he sprouted pubes. Of course he would become one of the greatest actors of his generation.
I don’t really care that Bale yelled at this douche-nozzle Hurlburt—maybe he deserved it, I dunno. But it doesn’t demonize Bale in my mind, nor does it angelize him either. I saw a comment on a digg.com story and the user said something to the effect—“I’m going to boycott this movie. I will only see it 13 times instead of 15.” Bottom line, no one cares that Bale is a foul-mouthed rageaholic—because Bruce Wayne is supposed to this angry—his parents are dead. He gets a pass.
Naysayers will naysay, “But he isn’t Bruce Wayne, he was just playing a role for a movie.” Well naysayers, tell that the over 500 million dollars and one of the last actors in this class of method who take their job seriously enough to put out a good product.
The moral of the story: Maybe McG should have hired a real cinematographer and not the guy he worked with to make all those shitty Smashmouth videos back when Slick Willy was living up to his nicker in the Oval Office.
Bottom Line: Method acting and hack photo-directors whose resume includes “Drumline” and “Crazy/Beautiful” don’t mix. Was Jeff Cronenweth too expensive, McG?