Archive for August, 2011

I’M TOO TIRED TO VERIFY THE CORRECT SPELLING OF “CURMUDGEON”

Posted in Mr. Bitch Goes to Bitchtown on August 26, 2011 by butthorn

It has recently become clear to me that I am an old person.  A smelly, closed-minded, shriveled, horrible to be around, incontinent, inattentive, stuck in the past, paranoid, dirty minded, uninteresting, all-around poop in the potty old person.  The reason I have come to this conclusion, or this conclusion has come to me, which is the same thing so forget I wrote that, is due to the fact that I live in a college town.  The very college town in which I once attended college myself, back when I was a somewhat younger old person.  It is a nice little town to look at, very clean and pleasant to walk around in for the most part.  Its citizens will not trouble you for spare change or cigarettes, for they are wealthy, and don’t smoke.  At most, they may flash a barely perceptible derisive sneer, a look that conveys something along the lines of “I don’t recognize you, but you seem poor”, after which they will continue on their merry way, thinking about NPR and organically grown vegetables.  If you were to attack them, or even simply ask for the time, they would no doubt simultaneously wet and soil their belted khaki shorts and begin vomiting and crying, which would be way worse to deal with than the barely perceptible derisive sneer, so it’s best to let them have their proud moment of judgement and carry on with your business.  They are not really harming anything, and on occasion some of them will even surprise you by being genuinely pleasant provided you keep the conversation light and don’t talk about poontang or nutsacs or, God forbid, organically grown vegetables.

That’s how it is in the summertime.  A calm, cool breeze blesses sparsely populated streets.  Amidst the relaxed, tanned families, one can easily find an empty booth in one of the few humble eateries about town at any time of day or night.  Short of the occasional comfortably ratty Red Sox cap, few feel the need to wear hats.  While people do look at their phones from time to time, they do so simply to check for messages of voice or text, and then close their phone upon continuing their walk, that they might better see where it is that they are going.  Traffic is steady but purposeful, en route to earning money for the purposes of family sustenance or to spend it on sensible things like hammers and assorted crockery.  When lawns are mowed, the people mowing them wear headphones not to listen to the latest smash hit by DJ Fuck Yo Momma and the Bitch Shooters, but to actually protect their ears from possible and permanent impairment.  It is Sunnytown, USA, and its beaming blandness is at once irritating and wonderful, depending on how one chooses to process the information on display.

Then fall comes.

This evening I drove my poor-smelling, essential-fluid-leaking maroon station wagon to the Thai take-out place just down the street from our apartment for the purposes of picking up curry puffs (an unfamiliar but exciting-sounding appetizer this place started making recently) and delicious yellow curry with fluffy rice and tender pork as a reward to myself and my wife for another week of not killing one another when I couldn’t help but notice a trio of fleshy, fresh-faced young women walking directly in the middle of the road, all three squinting and smiling wanly at their vibrantly hued cellphones.  Now I’m all for fleshy, fresh-faced young women in most any capacity, but when they’re shuffling down the street in the middle of a fairly busy main road and preventing me from shoveling hot, starchy, fowl-flesh slurry into my yearning esophagus, I really have no choice but to run over them with my vehicle.  So I killed some people tonight, and I’ll pay for it later, no doubt.  But the curry puffs were excellent.

Walking in the opposite direction of these oblivious ninnies were a pair of deeply dopey-looking young fellows, backwards of cap and saggy of short, striding with the confidence that only an exquisitely empty cerebral cortex can supply.  They, too, were walking down the middle of the road, despite there being a clearly visible sidewalk with plenty of room on it for people to walk on, even people who don’t know how to dress themselves and spend every waking moment of their boundless spare time texting one another about bath salts.  But no, nothing but the middle of the road would do for these gents.

I made no attempt to disguise my disgust, looking directly at both parties in question and sighing as loud as I possible could, but they all just kept on galumphing.  In the end, I drove directly into their midst, and we all sort of maneuvered around one another.  I’m not even sure I was visible to any of them.

So as you age, do people in the age group of, say, 13-24 just suddenly come across as utterly devoid of value, to the point where it seems like it would feel great to really cause them some serious physical harm in a perfect world where they weren’t actually stronger than you?  To the point where working out at a gym doesn’t sound like such a bad idea after all, if only to possibly give you the ability to maybe hospitalize the next person who says the word “dude”?  Or have kids just gotten really, really, really dumb?  And mean?  Is this how my friends and I looked and sounded to people with responsibilities and interests that no longer involved parties or sleeping till noon or occasionally walking to a series of buildings and sitting in a series of rooms ignoring a series of middle-aged nerds?

Well, at any rate, looks like I’m surrounded by fuckin’ idiots till May!  WHOOOOOOOO!  MORE COWBELL!  PLEASE, I BEG OF YOU, MORE COWBELL!!!!!  WHOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!!!!!!

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MY BLOGGY AND ME, WE’RE THE BEST FRIENDS THERE COULD BE.

Posted in Buddhahorn, Marvy Movies on August 1, 2011 by butthorn

WOW, YOU REMEMBERED HOW TO LOG IN TO THE SITE. I’M SURPRISED AND IMPRESSED.

Suck it.

I’VE MISSED YOU, TOO.

Yeah, well, busyness and whatnot.

SO WHAT HAVE YOU BEEN UP TO SINCE…OHHHHH, APRIL, WAS IT?  MAY?

I’m too depressed to even look at the date of my last post.  I deliberately avoided it.

BEING THE BLOG ITSELF, YOU’D THINK I’D BE ABLE TO TELL YOU THE DATE.

Which only serves to prove that you’re not really a sentient blog, and rather you’re me writing in all caps.

CAN’T WE COMMIT TO THIS ONE FANTASTICAL GIMMICK?  I THINK PEOPLE IN GENERAL ARE STARTING TO GET NOSTALGIC FOR THE FOURTH WALL.

What have I been doing?  Lots of going to work…

WHICH GOES WITHOUT SAYING, AND WE’VE AGREED TO LEAVE WORK AT WORK.

And I’m beyond 100% fine with that.  What else?  Lots of dealings with the child.

AND HOW HAS THAT BEEN?

It’s been a lot of things, but most often it’s either a near-exact 50/50 mix of exciting/poignant or boring/frustrating.

HE’S EITHER THE REASON FOR OR THE BANE OF YOUR EXISTENCE.

That’s inaccurate and glib at best, but thank you for trying.

HE’S STARTING TO TURN INTO A PERSON.

Yeah, that’s true enough.  He can say, or rather verbally express without necessarily using the accepted English phrasing for, a surprising number of things.  He still favors “Ba!”, a noise he has always used whenever something catches his eye that he either wants you to mutually appreciate or explain, but with a slight upturn at the end it doubles for “ball”, a plaything he likes and we now have many of, all over the house.

HOW ARE YOU DEALING WITH THE ADDED CLUTTER?

Kiddie clutter is easier to clean up than adult clutter.  You just throw it all into a toybox and call it good.  But unless it’s a situation where I’m puncturing my foot on a plastic penguin while trying to bumble my way to the bathroom in the middle of the night, most of the time I kind of like all the toys and stuff lying around.  It reminds me that he’s asleep in the next room and I’ll get to hang out with him tomorrow.

SO IT’S A STY, THEN?

Not really.  Our new place is fairly attractive in a pleasingly old-fashioned Maine kind of way, so even if things are a little messy the overall atmosphere maintains an air (if not necessarily a reality) of order that none of our previous apartments have been able to manage.  By and large we all seem to be very content here.

“SEEM”?

I can only speak with any degree of certainty for myself.  My wife and child seem in very good spirits, but I can’t read their minds.  Stop looking for probs, bloggo!

PROBS ARE WHERE IT’S AT, HOMES.

By the way, I think I should let you know that as I type this I’m also watching a movie where a two-headed gorilla is attacking people in a grocery store.

THAT SOUNDS GOOD.

It’s this movie:

WOW, I WISH I HAD EYES FOR THE SOLE PURPOSE OF WATCHING THAT.

Well, you can have mine after I gore them out once it’s over.

SIGHT AS A CONCEPT IN GENERAL BEING ALL DOWNHILL FROM THERE.

Right.  Anyway, we were talking about words that Freddy can say.

WERE WE?  LAND, THAT MUST HAVE BEEN INTERESTING.

Somewhere my wife has written a list of these but I don’t know where it is so these are just of the top of my head: Other than “Ma-ma” and “Da-da”, there’s “wa-wa” (beverage, including but not limited to water, usually milk actually), “negnet” (magnet), “decks” (animal crackers), “suh” (sun), and the self-explanatory “wow” and “uh-oh”.

THE VERY DEFINITION OF ENTHRALLING.

You’re just mad because you have nothing to gush about.

IN WHAT MAGICAL, GUSH-WORTHY REALM IS “DECKS” A SUITABLE STAND-IN FOR “ANIMAL CRACKERS”?

It’s really closer to “cucks”, I guess, which is sort of like “crackers”, right?

IT’S ALMOST MORE CRACKERS THAN CRACKERS.

Didn’t White Zombie sing that?

TO WIDESPREAD CRITICAL ACCLAIM.  I HESITATE TO BRING THIS UP GIVEN THE MAUDLIN AFFAIR THAT WAS YOUR LAST POST, BUT HAS ANYTHING COME OF YOUR QUEST FOR ASIAN-FLAVORED MENTAL ENLIGHTENMENT?

I’m reenergized in that arena!  I have a handsome, spiral-bound meditation book that is plainly and incisively written, and I sit on a dog pillow in the attic and think about Sendoh!

GREAT, SENDOH!  WELL, THAT’S TOPS!

Tops is the word!

REALLY SOMETHING!

Sendoh, whom I will feel free to identify for you as only myself, my wife, a select handful of geeks and anyone who came of age in 1990’s-era Japan knows who he is, happens to be a character, and a relatively minor one at that, on my current favorite program: “Slam Dunk”:

I’VE NEVER KNOWN YOU TO BE A FAN OF EITHER BASKETBALL OR NON-PORNOGRAPHIC ANIME.

I’m not!  At best both concepts typically bore me, so this proves beyond a shadow of a doubt that old trope that we don’t choose what we enjoy, but rather what we enjoy chooses us.

WELL, YOU’VE DONE SOME IMPORTANT WORK HERE.

I initially started watching “Slam Dunk” on Hulu because I couldn’t think of anything in particular I wanted to watch at the time, and I was scrolling through their…hold on, the thing with two heads is competing in a dirt bike race now.

HE IS NOT.  IS HE REALLY?

Yes, and he’s fighting amongst himself while doing it.  The white old man head doesn’t want to be involved in the race.

HONKIES DON’T KNOW HOW TO HAVE A GOOD TIME.

If only they could loosen up a little.

IT TOOK YOU FIFTEEN MINUTES TO COME UP WITH THAT RESPONSE?

Sorry, I’m completely into this movie now.  There’s a lot of cop cars getting wrecked in a variety of truly exciting ways.

DAMN IT.  WHY DO I HAVE TO BE A STUPID BLOG THAT DOESN’T GET TO WATCH ANY FUN MOVIES?

I think the thing with two heads is about to have sex with someone.

STOP TWISTING THE KNIFE.  YOU WERE ABOUT TO TELL ME ABOUT THIS SENDOH.  WHICH ONE OF THE GUYS IN THAT VIDEO OF THE THEME SONG IS HE?  IS IT THE HUGE REDHEAD GUY?

No, that’s Sakuragi.  He’s the main character and is extremely funny in an over-the-top egotistical way.  The show is frequently hilarious despite the cheesy seriousness on display in that video.  Sakuragi is a high school freshman who joins the basketball team in an attempt to impress a girl, who happens to be the little sister of the star player, a big guy named Akagi who thinks he’s an idiot and is constantly punching him in the head.  Over the course of the series he discovers and displays a true talent and fondness for the game, and while that’s the focal thread of the show, the writers spend a lot of time with supporting characters as well, and throughout the viewer is privy to the inner monologues of nearly everyone who becomes involved in the story, however peripherally.  It probably sounds like too much to keep up with, but it’s compelling enough that you hang on everyone’s every word, so following along is generally not an issue whether your attention span is as decimated as my own or not, and even if you did happen to get lost along the way a gruff narrator enthusiastically provides an exhaustive synopsis of the story thus far at the beginning of each episode.  As I mentioned, every side story is treated with the same level and weird combination of humor and respect that Sakuragi’s saga is afforded, so one is left with a very thorough understanding of this mini universe of bullheaded, insecure young athletes and the paunchy coaches who try to tell them what to do.  Allow yourself a few episodes to get used to it, and you may find yourself as hooked as my wife and I.

IN NO WAY DID I REQUIRE THAT MUCH INFORMATION.  SO ANNIE LIKES THIS SHOW AS WELL?

Yes, a LOT, and she has even less interest in anime and basketball than myself.

SO SENDOH IS A GUY IN THIS SHOW WHO INSPIRES MEDITATION?

He is!  In me at least!  While most of the main characters in the show are good at playing basketball, Sendoh is fluidly, effortlessly good.  He does what he has to do to get the ball into the basket, without getting upset at the opponents who attempt to psyche him out and block his path.  He knows they’re just doing what they have to do as well.  He is one of the few fictional characters in any medium that I’ve encountered who seem as close to perfectly centered as one could hope to be.  He’s in the moment, and while he’s as susceptible to fatigue or injury as any human who regularly engages in a fast-paced, physically demanding sport, he never lets his desire to win or his aggression towards his opponents distract him from the task at hand.  He basks in victory and accepts defeat as they come, and revels in any challenge that leads to one or the other.

HE SOUNDS LIKE A HECK OF A GUY.

This is Sendoh:

VERY HANDSOME.  ARE YOU GOING TO GET A JAZZY POINTED HAIRDO LIKE HIS AS WELL?

I think I would have a hard time getting to sleep with that much hair on my head.

SO THINKING ABOUT THIS SENDOH CHARACTER HELPS YOU IN YOUR MEDITATIVE EXPLOITS?

No!  In fact it’s a hindrance!  What the idea of being like Sendoh does is inspire me to take the time out of my evening to actually sit down and attempt to get my mental affairs in order.  If I could attain even a fraction of the confidence and compassion displayed by this nonexistent cartoon character from a Japanese cartoon from the early nineties, I believe I would be a happier person, or at any rate would enjoy being around myself more.  But the problem is if I concentrate on Sendoh as some type of mantra or an object to fixate on, I just end up thinking about cartoons, or about my historic lack of natural abilities when it comes to team sports, and it becomes a depressing distraction.  He’s something of an inspiration in that he represents to my mind the idea of being perfectly centered, and as such he’s an impetus for me to go upstairs and sit down and do the thing.

SO IN SOME SENSE YOU’RE TRYING TO PURGE DISTRACTIONS FROM YOUR BRAIN?  WON’T THAT ESSENTIALLY ELIMINATE YOUR PERSONALITY, IN YOUR CASE?

Well, what IS my personality?  It’s just a set of behaviors that others have come to expect and that I’ve come to rely on to get me through the day.  Distractions will happen whether I want them or not, and I will always be “myself” to varying degrees, but being a slave to either of these things won’t lead to anything much that resembles progress, or, failing that, contentment.

YOU’RE TRYING TO GAIN CONTROL OF YOUR BRAIN.

That’s the idea.

NEAT-O.

It IS neat-o, in a way I may never fully understand.  Actually the neat-o part is you don’t have to understand it, you just have to do it.  Normally I hate doing things, but…

MAYBE YOU JUST SAY YOU “HATE DOING THINGS” BECAUSE PEOPLE EXPECT YOU TO BE NEGATIVE AND LAZY, BOTH TRAITS YOU CONSTANTLY REINFORCE TO GET LAUGHS AND TO AVOID HAVING TO WORK AT ANYTHING.

Say, you’re pretty perceptive for a blog!

AND YOU’RE FAT!

Cheers!

SEE YOU IN 6 – 8 MONTHS!

It’s a date!