Wednesday, June 22, 2005

Subversive Submissive


Oh my. I find it hard to believe a whole week has passed. How very inconsiderate of me. You have my deepest, most heartfelt apologies. Now suck it up.

Happy Belated Summer Solstice… Midsummer’s eve… You know, the day the sun stands still. I truly hope all the Neopaganist wiccan types can find it in their hearts to forgive me without first afflicting me with some evil curse – Like Spring fever. If it helps “A Joyous Litha to you.”

And, of course, my apologies for missing Beltaine. I’ve been simply pathetic at keeping up with my pagan rituals, but I promise to make up for it all during the next Equinox. (Someone please remind me a few days in advance…).

But you see, I have an almost plausible excuse. I’ve been waiting patiently for a map that may lead me from this place. Of course I have now realized that a map is really only of any use if you know where you are to begin with, and where the corresponding position on the map is located… otherwise it really serves no helpful purpose.

So, whilst awaiting the arrival of this map I have kept busy for the last week by:

- Working 102 hours.
- Watching 15 movies. Which, in order, are: Ocean’s Twelve, Lost in Translation, After the Sunset, Blade Trinity, I “Heart” Huckabee’s, King Arthur, Alone in the Dark, Closer, Garden State, DeVour, Sideways, Spanglish, Hitched, The Machinist, and Cursed.
- Drinking 54 beers of questionable quality.
- Drinking three shots of whiskey (A notable event as I generally consider it to be the devil’s brew).
- Smoking 162 cigarettes.
- Consuming 9 pots of coffee.
- Eating Six hotdogs, Two pizzas, One Club sub, a Big Mac, an order of wings, and a Taco.

Pretty much if I’m forced to wait much longer for this alleged map I just may perish due to disgust with myself.

Thankfully I had the pleasure of the following to keep me entertained:

- 3 drunken phone calls after 2:00 Am.
- 5 drunken text messages after 2:00 Am.
- 1 drunken dumb-ass trying to get into the wrong room after 2:00 Am.

So, by my best calculations I’ve squandered 102 hours working, 35 hours sleeping, 22.5 hours watching movies, and still have 8.5 hours unaccounted for in the week.

My parents must be so proud.

More to come… If I decide to pull the gun barrel from my mouth.

Wednesday, June 15, 2005

Somatic Insomnia


The skies are black – Not a real black, but the deep-blue tinged comic book black.

The moon dangles from a lamp post and emits a gossamer luminance over crimson water.

Dark silhouettes flicker beneath the surface.

She lay still, reposed on a boat, a small barge without any rails.

She arose and beckoned. Her lips were the same red as the waters around, her hair the same blue-black of the sky above. The rest was unclear, obscured by the shadows and the shimmering veil of light.

She beckoned again, a sensual gesture I could not deny. I moved, and I was moved.

A splash - It disturbed the serene and tranquil moment. I turned to see.

A cruise ship, a ghost ship - Milla Jovovich and Christian Slater battled hellhounds on the bow. Both were dressed in black. On the stern – Pierce Brosnan and Natalie Portman enjoyed a candle-lit dinner. He drank merlot from a martini glass and she sipped pinot from a plastic beer cup. They began to argue.

Her hair was crimson as the water, His blue-black like the sky.

Jack starts singing In Between Dreams.

A raven cries out and I gaze up. It descends wings wide and beak open in a silent scream. It, too, is the same strange black. It comes at me. It comes for me.

It slows to a painful frame-by-frame available only when sleeping. The beak opens wide and my glasses fog up.

I realize I am wearing contacts, yet it seemed I was blind.

The vision clears. A bird rests upon my shoulder. It turns and cocks its head like a perplexed puppy. I reach for the scrap of paper it carries.

I notice my arms are covered in blood, yet my hands are clean.

The note reads “Come.”

A phone rings and I answer. “Remember to call your father this weekend. It’s father’s day.”

It rings again. No one is there.

It rings once more. “Please wait for an important message regarding your television service.”

I throw the phone in the lake. Tiny ripples form and fade into the distance. Three hours later a tidal wave capsizes a catamaran. I can’t help but wonder.

I look around. The raven is gone. The ship is gone. She is gone. I am alone.

A bloody hand grabs me and tugs me away from the water. I follow. I look back.

She beckons.

Saturday, June 11, 2005

Synthetic Methodology


It occurred to me early in the week that people were seemingly far more obnoxious and generally annoying than was usual. On Wednesday I found myself particularly offended by this noticeable trend. At one point it pushed me beyond my normal disparaging remarks and subtle disdain and actually made me angry enough to raise my voice.

Well, almost. I really wanted to, but I just found, as usual, that I couldn’t work up the necessary passion to warrant a vocal outburst to demonstrate my distress with – Everything. Self-control prevailed and I calmly realized that it was, at worst, a nuisance, an insignificant event which may have required an entire 210 seconds to remedy. No big deal. But it made me examine the reasons behind my uncharacteristic outrage.

Thinking that perhaps my objectivity was skewed by a bad day or lack of sleep I decided to dedicate an entire week observing and reflecting upon the behavior of the people with whom I interacted.

Now I am forced to face the dismal realization that people have officially given up on the concepts of respect, manners, civility, empathy, understanding, and rationality. Social deportment is at the lowest level it has reached in centuries.

Gimme, Gimme, Gimme!” - The mantra of a new era of the greedy, selfish, and the self-serving. There is no longer such a thing as a polite request; an expectation of consideration; or an assumption you will be treated with even a modicum of respect.

Even the overly-medicated mendicant on Main Street awaiting alms for alcohol has begun to develop an attitude. No longer content to appeal to your sense of decency, plead for your pity, or to sit patiently and solicit your sympathies they have become arrogant and aggressive. They now command you to part with your coins and demand you part with your dollars.

The world around me is collapsing and devolving into such a state of tactless disrespect it really is no wonder I am having difficulty maintaining my insincere mask of amiable and suave refinement. To be completely honest I was having a far better time pretending to accept the thin veneer of forced politeness. Now I just wish upon them some debilitating venereal illness - Cupid’s Itch perhaps.

It's reached the point where a polite request from a waiter, waitress, hostess, barista, cashier, or bellhop has been replaced by a rude, socially impaired soliloquy of obscenely pointless desires that they expect to be met immediately to feed their need for instant gratification. There is no cognizant realization of how utterly boorish and insulting the demands may be, only that they be met Now.

Society, it seems, has forgotten the Magic Word.

A tragic loss that currently has me wanting to suggest people have the silver spoon removed from their mouth and shoved up their ass. Of course they would have to undergo some clever procedure to have their head taken out of the rectum first. Perhaps the relief would actually enable them to form a smile?

Basic niceties people - Is it really too much to ask?

Sincerely,

Milquetoast.

Sunday, June 05, 2005

Nice work Chavez. Pass the Peyote.

Three things I should never do while drinking: Pick up the phone and Blog. The whole writing thing results in a dismally crafted submission of vague tripe. Wholly self-indulgent gibberish created for no other reason than to appeal to my own sense of vanity. Oh, and to prove the rest of the literate world that I am delightfully fabulous. I must admit; however, that I could not have done it alone. I have my own personal editing team to point out errors in spelling and grammar. Little details like the "e" missing in mdia are brought immediately to my attention (To any I may have offended by this little oversight - My apologies).

On occasion conceit forces me to go back and correct these glaring omissions and errors. It has not yet caused me to delete a post, although I have been tempted repeatedly. There is a lot of garbage to be found throughout the past 10 months. Much of which the world would be a better place for never having encountered. Ah well, take the good with the bad, and take it all with a spoonful of sugar. And a shot of Vodka. I once thought of creating another blogspot. It was to be entitled Mordant Cliffnotes - Chicken Soup for the Stupid. Then I realized I am probably better off being misunderstood by most. Better to remain silent and be thought a fool...

So, I embarked on a journey of memetic deviation, though I really have no idea what exactly that means. While searching for the answer to one of the most perplexing questions of our generation - "What, exactly, is a meme?" I became confused to learn that even the esteemed experts, The Memeticists, can not agree on a definition. The most vocal sect of them have offered "Any piece of information transferable from one mind to another". It appears to be based on assumption that ideas, theories, mood, music, etc evolve, replicate, compete to reign supreme.

Fabulous. "Hello. I have a degree in Memetics (or is it Memeology?). Would you like fries with that?"

Switching gears for a moment:

Most Esteemed Members of the Web Log Community,

Enough with these false claims of being humourous, sarcastic, irreverent, observant, and fabulous. Tell you what - Try applying some of those traits to your writing. Continue to ramble on with your deeply insightful, oh-so-original political dogma. Leave it to us experts to decide just how highly you rate on the witty and brilliant scale. Unsure if this is a jab directed at you? Then it most likely is. But only because you suck. Bad. It nothing personal, and don't even try to dispute the imputation. I've located an army of Memetic Minions to prove I'm right.

Yours Truly,

Moe, Ron. Esquire.


And now we're back to... umm... other stuff.

Just like to respond to the two inquiries I had regarding the new addition of the Answer of the Day. May I please direct your attention to the list of others worth checking out to your right. Yes, there. Where it says "You'd be better off here". Click on them. Pay attention. Leave a comment. They are, for the most part, good people (Well, at least as far as I can tell in this clouded cyberscape). Although if you manage to piss them off you are on your own. And don't bother telling them I sent you. Most of them will already know. They're perceptive that way.

One moment please. I have to refer back to the manual. Offend some people blah blah blah flattery will get you everywhere blah blah blah blah blah eccentric blah offer personal glimpse. Oh yes...

For your confusion I offer this little titillating tidbit. An email I sent that even makes me wonder what was going through my mind at the time:


"Yes peoples. The proper pluralage of people. Rarely
used by anyone. Except by myself and the minions.

A sleepless
badger? Interesting. I had no idea.

I slipped away this afternoon.
Everyone assumed it was for tequila shots. HAHA on them. I was drinking beer.

The FOOLS!

Cheers,

The Almighty me."


It's empty. Must run...

Yours Truly,

Dr. Vex, PHD (Memetics)

Saturday, June 04, 2005

Oh. Woe. Is. Me.

Ever had one of those days where you find yourself so incredibly bored that you've passed the last hour playing "Duck hunter" in the top window over your Statcounter and haven't once been annoyed that every time you hit a duck you have to wait to be redirected before you exit from the Online Reward Center for the next shot? Yes? Well, you are just pathetic. I get annoyed every time. Which is why, after the second hour, I began to play "Next Blog, Next Blog, Random Link, Read". I must admit I found some wonderful recipes for Tofu (Which, incidentally, is made from soy). Hopefully they work just as well when I substitute beef for coagulated soy milk. I was also amazed at my apparent proficiency at knitting. I really think I've mastered the Twisted Purl Cast on. At least it seemed to work well with a mismatched set of pens and a loose thread from my shirt. At some point in the day I deemed it necessary to peruse my yearly "Employee Performance Review". The past eight or so years I didn't bother to read them, but then I wrote them - I felt it would be redundant. This was the first that was compiled by someone else. To my amazement and amusement it was the best review I have ever received. Apparently I was being too hard on myself in past years, or maybe I just had a better understanding of exactly what it is I do. Of course a narcissistic nature refuses to allow me to go any further without pointing out a few of the highlights:

"Vex has and excellent attitude and a great sense of humour... adapts easily... very dependable... can be counted on to help out whenever needed."

"Vex is an excellent (Insert Job Title Here) and an asset to the company."

"Vex has a very positive, easy going attitude and is always willing to help out whenever necessary."

At this point I was feeling rather smug about the whole thing. Seems I had somehow managed to convince my supervisor that I was somewhat competent at my job (and very helpful). The follow up phone call to review the results was the part that made me giggle:

Ms. Supervisor: Vex?
Me: Hello Satan.
M.S.: (Laughing) You read the review?
Me: Yes.
M.S: And?
Me: I couldn't have said it better myself.
M.S: You read the part about "Planning and Time Management Skills"?
Me: "He plans ahead and manages his time very well"?
M.S.: Yip, that part. You notice I left out "In order to free up more time to drink"?

Damn, she has a perfect understanding of what I do.

Now we come to the problem. As you may, or may not, be aware I absolutely cringe when I face problems. I abhor them almost as much as I despise making decisions. So, understandably, I am quite disturbed trying to decide what to do about the problem:

M.S. is leaving her job, which means it is vacant, and I have the option of applying for it. The problems?

- Relocating from my current residence. Not really as issue, I spend much of my free time in the new location anyway.

- Less money. Again, not a huge issue, half the hours and weekends off rather than the crap I've dealt with over the years. No more winters with a view of the arctic ocean? May be worth it.

- The travel comes to an end. I really can't express how much this one is bothering me.

- I truly doubt my ability to thrive, or even survive, in a structured office environment. I'm far too accustomed to doing what I please so long as the work is completed at the end of the day.

- Corporate sycophants and "Yes" men. It would be only a matter of time before I said the wrong thing.

- Potential for advancement. Which would be novel. There's nowhere to go from where I am currently at.

- Out of the other qualified candidates for the position only two I have faith to do the position justice. One is completely disinterested, the other a long shot. Any of the rest would, to put it bluntly, suck miserably and lead to my inevitable leaving anyway. I almost feel obligated to apply just to ensure a bigger ass doesn't end up with the job and alienate the few that are actually good at what they do, rather than good at who they do. (Which is completely bizarre as I have been one of the biggest supporters of the "It's not what you know, it's who you know Theory").

- I completely resent the fact that some power hungry, corporate minion could soon be my boss.

One week to decide. Suggestions, opinions, advice, or insights are appreciated.

Wednesday, June 01, 2005

Ha Ha! Loser!


I'm not angry. I'm not offended. I'm just disgusted.

It started a few months ago when I first encountered an article in the local newspaper explaining that all the playground jungle gyms were coming down. It escalated slightly when I discovered a local park landmark was to be torn down. And today it reached a pinnacle when I read another aggravating expose on self-esteem in schools being the reason that the game of tag was being forbidden in some schools, as was the use of red pens for correcting their homework assignments. Apparently lavender is the new red. Competitive team sports and games in which there is an easily defined winner and loser are on the outs.

To the sick, twisted fucks that come up with this shit: "Kiss my ass."

Mayhaps you should could quit worrying about the youth of the nation actually having fun and enjoying themselves and expend a little more effort it trying to repair the appallingly decayed state of education in the classroom. Personally I found a little competition to be exciting and enjoyable. I even discovered the experience of losing had some identifiable merit that did not result in emotional scarring. In losing I realized one of two things:

1) Perhaps the activity or academic pursuit was not for me. I had to seriously consider the fact that despite my deep desire to engage in synchronized swimming professionally I lacked the necessary grace and timing required to excel at it. I also found it difficult to bitch and complain while under water. Sure, in time and with a little practice I could likely have been OK at it, but to be honest I was never going to be a Star. I can only imagine how much of my life I could have wasted on such a thing had everyone been encouraged to lie and spare my feelings. If I suck at something at least have the decency to tell me. At some things I am completely inept, I know this. I no longer participate with them. I leave that to people with talent, skill, and aptitude.

2) Perhaps the activity or academic pursuit is for me, but requires a little effort on my part. Nothing like a little dose of "Loser" to convince you to try harder and strive to be better. Without a healthy fear of losing, of failure, of ridicule from your peers how do you inspire someone to work harder or convince them to work to their full potential?

And what kind of future lies in store for them when they are forced to venture alone into the real world? Newsflash for you dumbass - It's dog-eat-dog out there. Competition is everywhere. Jesus, we've even managed to turn the institution of marriage into a bloody game show. How well adjusted do really expect them do be if at no point in their formative years have they learned to deal with the misery of failure and losing? Can you say "Selfish, self absorbed, sniveling twit?" Adults with the petulant me me me attitude of a two year old? People with an adamant and illogical inability to admit when they've been wrong? Splendid. Definitely a step in the right direction towards promoting the healthy growth of the children. What possible niche would such people fill that doesn't, at least occasionally, require them to accept responsibility for making a wrong decision (Well, except for being President. But really, they can't all become President can they?).

No child left behind. To ensure the success of this little brainchild program we shall ensure that all children are equally sheltered from reality and receive identical, intellectually stunted educations. When they grow up we can house them in trailer parks, placate them with beer, get them hooked on nicotine, remind them that Walmart accepts food stamps, and rest easy knowing we have effectively created an uncaring and uneducated population frightened of the colour red. But not the calm and soothing Lavender. Praise Jesus for that.

Pandering to the lowest common denominator does not strike me as the best route to take. Certainly it's good enough for the folks who aim to one day manage the local "Cum N Go", or the "Pump N Pack" along the highway, but what of the adventurous few who aim higher but are restricted from doing so due to increased safety measures and a fear of heights?

Quite simply - This is getting ridiculous.

Yeah yeah, I know - Back to my corner for a "Time Out".





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