Archive for January, 2008

Damn I love LOLcats…

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So, a few things. James Taranto of the Wall Street Journal Opinion Page summed up exactly how I feel about Hillary Clinton and her recent win in New Hampshire after becoming emotional to voters at a cafe there:

"Again, it is difficult to imagine a male candidate benefiting the way Mrs. Clinton appears to have done after tearing up over how difficult it is to run for office. If it works, it works; but it's an interesting irony that Mrs. Clinton is being put forth as a feminist icon while taking advantage of a double standard that rests on a presumption of feminine weakness."
(taken from the WSJ editorial page email newsletter I get)

That's because it's all scripted and the "feminist" ideology is just a front for her supreme self-serving ambition. Everything's negotiable when you'll do anything to get to the top. I'm not sure why Ms. Clinton bothers me so except that as a woman who struggles to stay both feminine and gentle while still commanding respect for my intellect and abilities, she offends that part of me that knows that her vacillation between ballbreaker and concerned earth mother is all just an act depending on the audience. She doesn't seem to be either one unless it suits her purposes. Therefore, it's not really a struggle for her as much as it is an affectation. And that's some cold business, man. And I would prefer not to have a sociopath in the White House thank you very much.

Also, glad to see Fred Thompson actually open his mouth and say something in South Carolina. I have a feeling I agree with him but I've never actually heard him talk about his platform. Maybe his strategy was to remain the mysterious trojan horse who's just waiting to be let in the gate...

Beyond that, my sister-in-law told me an awesome story about a 97-year-old man who is currently courting her grandmother. Apparently he enticed her to have dinner with him by saying she could share his Red Lobster Senior Citizen Discount Card. Those're some mad skills. It would've worked on me.

Also, here's some more High School music I just digitized and some Regina Spektor because she's just cool.

Goodbye Yellow Brick Road by Elton John

On The Radio by Regina Spektor

Have a Johnny Depp weekend (read: stay true to your bizarre self)!

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Chalk Nazis

So my neighborhood has a million dogs. Most of the dog owners are responsible — they carry nasty, bulging little plastic bags and do what society dictates they must. I avoid all that ridiculousness by dragging Stella to the vacant lot at the end of the street or making her “conduct business” in her own backyard. And yet still, every couple of weeks, I am assaulted by the pastel sidewalk-chalk fascist ramblings of the neighbors a few doors down. Now, I appreciate that they have kids that play in their yard and little feet tracking stinky stuff through the house is unacceptable. I also believe that being pissed off given these circumstances is justifiable. But the bi-monthly preemptive strike in huge letters that greets me as I walk my dog — things like “Responsible dog owners pick up the mess — are you a responsible dog owner? We know you are!” and “Don’t dirty my child’s playground.” — are just intended to make everyone — this is the main sidewalk through the neighborhood and the foot/paw traffic is heavy — feel really bad about themselves as people/pets. Especially since, as I said, most of the people in my neighborhood are uber-respectful when it comes to this issue (rather comically I think. Grown men stooping to pick up dog poop just makes me laugh…). What’s more, the messages have become increasingly vitriolic of late, indicating to me some projection on the part of “writer” forcing everyone in the neighborhood to feel the pain of their marital troubles or kid problems or clogged toilet or whatever the hell else they’re complaining about via chalk terrorism. The last one, a few weeks ago, said this: “The grass between the sidewalk and the street is our yard, too.”

Then, last night, someone struck back. I got out of class a little early and had dinner with a friend. By the time I got home to walk the girl, it was nearly dark and, as I approached the Hitler home I saw a new message, angrily written in all caps with a large arrow pointing to a circle. It said, “Thanks a lot. We appreciate it.” and the arrow pointed to the biggest pile of dog crap I have ever seen, right smack dab in the middle of the sidewalk I presume because the sidewalk, unless zoning laws have changed, is not their yard.

That shit was funny. Literally.

On a slightly less funny note, I finally got an MP3 player — a Zune, which all my Apple snob coworkers make fun of me for but whatever. I support Microsoft because they make a good product and Bill Gates does stuff like this. In any event, I have been digitizing many of my old CDs and have come across a few gems from High School. Like this one, which gives you the opportunity to deride me but I still say it’s a great song even if it is easy, cheesy 80s hair rock.

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The feast of the Epiphany is this weekend which means I can finally take my tree down. So, in fond remembrance of Christmas 2007, here are some final images — including shots of a really cute kid and my sister’s gift to me (it’s a major award) — and a shout out to my parents who made this year amazing by handing down to me my grandpa’s rosary, sharing a little homemade cranberry brandy and collaborating with me on the best buttermilk cornbread I’ve ever created/eaten/watched others enjoy.

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Promoting the funny

I have a few days before the final semester of my degree program starts (I just like saying that…) so I’m playing a little bit. I offer some funnies:

Stole this from Cute Overload. I laughed heretically! (It’s actually cute, not evil…)

As I was recently introduced to LOLcats (never claimed to be ahead of any curve), and given my rampant Catholicism, I thought the LOLCat Bible Translation Project was fab. Here’s Genesis 1: “Oh hai. In teh beginnin Ceiling Cat maded teh skiez An da Urfs, but he did not eated dem.”

Then there’s this, just cause who really loves a telemarketer?

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Evening the Score

Saw this on the news this morning while I was getting ready for my first day back to work which, by the way, was pretty anticlimactic. I mean except for a few glares from some of the happier coworkers and the general negative patina that seems to hang about the furniture and hallways, it was pretty much just business as usual. Sigh.

But back to this YouTube video wherein this kid Noah time-elapsed over 2,000 photos of himself, one for every day of his life over a six year period. While that itself is fairly interesting, the back story is even better. The music that accompanies the video was composed by his girlfriend at his request. As you can hear when you watch the video, it is lovely music and composed not only as a singular piece but as a true accompaniment to the “action” in the video which I think shows real talent on the part of Miss Comando.

But here’s the part I find really worthy of mention: Noah, who is clearly pretty interested in himself as evidenced by a video full of 2,000 photos of his own face, started to get a little attention for his creativity and his girlfriend, it’s said very casually, asked him to shop her composition around when he attended these events to discuss his “art.” Well, guess what? Miss Comando started to get a little buzz herself and folks were having to go through Noah to get to her and, apparently, Noah decided to be not quite as facilitating in the promotion of his girlfriend as she had been of him when she wrote music that somehow made 2,000 photos of your face seem like art!

Needless to say, Carly Comando and Noah are no more. But she’s still garnering attention for her work and we’ll just have to see what happens with Noah and his face.

The moral of this story is simply don’t be a tool because not only does it affect how people view your (mediocre at best) work but you risk losing the people who thought you were more than mediocre in the first place.

Noah, you’re a tool.

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