Thursday, November 20, 2003

El Three Three Tee



The best lack all conviction, while the worst
Are full of passionate intensity.

-William Butler Yeats, "The Second Coming"



Who came up with the terms "boyfriend" and "girlfriend"? I'm pretty sure there couldn't be a more confusing term for the person that one is seeing romantically. The obvious problem being that many people have friends belonging to one of the genders generally refered to as "boy" and "girl". I bet this becomes a real problem when you're a bisexual or hermaphrodite. And if you had multiple boyfriends and girlfriends!? Thank goodness, I'm not a polygamous hermaphrodite. So, I propose that we nullify the terms "boyfriend" and "girlfriend" and institute a whole new system. Viva la revolutione!

I wonder if this makes me a sexist. I'm sorry that I'd like to be able to describe the sex of my friends (That sounds kinky doesn't it? Bullwinkle!) when referring to them. Of course, I'd say everyone is sexist to some extent. I mean look at all the segregated bathrooms out there! I mean we don't even get equal facilities! I'm outraged.

Seriously though I hate -isms! Like racism! In fact one thing I hate more than racism are the people that think reverse racism means a step towards equality. Think about it. How can the world stop thinking about people in terms of race when everyone wants their race to be the best. Its not a contest folks. Just because OJ is a killer doesn't make your race any worse. Then again affirmative action is just reverse racism and its not any better. Equality doesn't mean evening up some cosmic balance of rights and wrongs until your race is revenged. You're just seperating yourselves by whatever means is handy.

It's like everyone needs to feel like they belong to some group that's better than the others. Sadly the best way to do this isn't to start a conversation and find out what socio-political beliefs you have in common. It's just easier to look at someone and say he's black and I'm not. Luckily its still okay to hate someone for their choice of football teams or college or for being stupid. It's socially accepted to hate others. That's because people are hateful creatures. They need to make fun of other people who are different for one reason or another and if its for something you have no choice over well too bad.

I mean look at the online community. Here is a theoretically equal society where race and sex don't have to matter. Yet look at any forum out in geekland. It's full of people insulting others and claiming that they are better or smarter or more proficient at something. It's an imperfect cyber-world and we have nothing to blame except for our residual need to discriminate by whatever means necessary. Seriously, I've been taunted for having a slow internet connection. They called me, "Lagger!". The slur of a new generation, I think it's sad.

Random Comment Made to Me:
I'm going to start a blog in response to your blog. Its going to be dedicated to responding to yours and making fun of you.

Random Response:
There's a link to it already. Just click on "comments" at the bottom of each post. Good boy.

Tuesday, November 18, 2003

You Are The Wicket To My Chirpa



Come to my soul dressed in white, like a branch
Of bleeding roses and cups of ashes,
Come with an apple and a horse,
Because there is a dark room there and a broken candelabra,
Some twisted chairs that wait for winter,
And a dead dove with a number.

-Pablo Neruda, "Ode with a Lament"



Did you hear that?

This is a long one. That’s just a warning for you whiny Jews who can’t stand reading more than 2 sentences because you have the attention span of a fat girl in candy store. Sorry if I sound defensive, but I don’t take criticism well so be prepared for uncalled for reprisals when critiquing my writing. I may lack the engineering knowledge to construct a geosynchronous orbital superlaser, but I am quite well versed in the art of the pink belly. So beware!

Anyway, I’ve decided to embrace my nerdiness even into college by playing Star Wars Trivial Pursuit on a Saturday night. This was preceded by a rousing game of Monopoly and followed by an aborted attempt at Axis and Allies. Meanwhile others in my demographic were busy having unprotected sex and vomiting somewhere. I guess they are that much closer to finding enlightenment than me…

I read a story called Zaalawabi. In this story, a man searches for the cure to a disease that has no cure. It leads him to various people chronologically, the lawyer, the bureaucrat, the calligrapher, the composer, and the drunk. The drunk refuses to speak with him unless he is also drunk. However, he imbibes too much and passes out. Upon awakening from a beautiful dream, he finds out that Zaalawabi had come to visit but is now gone.

This story really made me think because I think Zaalawabi symbolizes everyone’s desire to find something mystical or magical within themselves (through alcohol). This spiritual awakening progresses from the worldly to the artistic and finally to euphoric (and ultimate) state of drunkenness. Furthermore it supports my belief that you can’t always take the world seriously and you need to get ripped and let yourself go every once in awhile because sometimes that’s the only way to reach inner peace.

That’s because inner peace is nothing. It’s being passed out not know where you are, what you are doing, or even what’s going on. It’s a complete naivety of the world. Only then are you at peace with yourself and untainted by selfish thoughts.

Well that should give you people something to think about or if you’re Brett, something to skim over and not read because it’s too long (the aforementioned Jew).

And If you’re wondering why I haven’t posted in so long its because I read all the comments on the last post and was really depressed that people thought this blog is nothing more than a drunken rant that occupies too much of my time. So I cut my arms off. I haven’t been able to type since. Luckily I rubbed some ‘Tussin in the stumps and they grew back so I’m set to go again.

Editor’s Note:
By the way, Yoosuk did not actually cut his arms off. If you think about it it’s not really feasible. I mean how would he cut his other arm off? With his foot? At most he might have cut one arm off and kinda gnawed the other one…

Yoosuk’s Note on the Editor’s Note:
Actually, I wrote the Editor’s Note because I have no editor. So it’s really me commenting on my own writing instead of just going in and changing it. See? This way you see the WHOLE process. My thinking process… yeah scary isn’t it?

Tuesday, November 04, 2003

Choose Your Razor or DIE!



I'm lifting you up
I'm letting you down
I'm dancing til dawn
I'm fooling around
I'm not giving up
I'm making your love
This city's made us crazy and we must get out

-Maroon 5, "Must Get Out"



Mankind's days on Earth are numbered. The end is near. We as a race have stopped caring enough to improve the human condition. Stagnation and eventual deterioration of our species is inevitable. Art is dead. The Terminator is governor of California. No longer are we advancing as a race. We are merely getting fatter, lazier, and (heaven be praised) more hairless. Science is no longer an accomplishment, it's a method of creating a better razor, brewing a less filling beer, making stain resistant fucking khakis that will never have to be washed!

I mean really...

Hey Mr. Razor-Technology-Scientist Guy! Calm down. It's over. We all have razors that are sufficient to the task. How much more can you do to what is essentially a really, really sharp knife? I mean call it what you want.
The MACH3!
The LAZERTECH5000!
The ULTRASUPERSHARPCUTTER2000XP! (Woot!)
It doesn't matter. I don't care if it's got a freakin gel strip or another freakin blade! I'm not throwing away my razor and spending 30 dollars on a new one because of some stupid commercial with a 1980s style graphic of hair being shaved by your all-new, innovative take on a straight razor.

But I digress...

Back to my apocalyptic rant. What is the focus of our civilization now? It seems hell bent on destroying itself. Not with cigarettes anymore because that's no longer cool (thank God for alcohol). Not that that matters because we're not breeding anymore. The original reason for sex is now just the unwanted side-effect. And of course, the focus of most of our educational system is how to create more useless crap that doesn't matter to earn pieces of paper that someone decided was more important than accomplishing something. This is mankind... economically and socially masturbating itself to death. By the time we realize the money shot just ain't coming, apes will rule the Earth!

CHOOSE YOUR OWN ADVENTURE:
To hear the rest of my rant............... Turn to Page 64
To open the mysterious door............ Turn to Page 184
To end this blog................................ Turn to Page 77

Sunday, November 02, 2003

If Denial Is A River Then Call Me A Slut



What do I do when lightning strikes me
and I wake to find that you're not there?

-Elton John, "Sorry Seems to be the Hardest Word"



My room smells like dead animals. I don't think this is terrible because after several hours in my room I don't notice it anymore. Proving once again, that laziness can overcome any obstacle. This situation, however, cannot be contributing favorably to my natural aroma of pumpkins. With my limited interpersonal skills, this could be the deciding vote for many people to say, "That's it! I've had enough of that Asian guy that smells like pumpkins and dead stuff!"

Currently, I'm also smelling the cheesy-like odor of vomit too (Probably wafting from the bathroom). This should be alarming, but somehow I'm not fazed. I think I've reached a point where vomit is simply a fact of life now. This started last week when walking home from the bars I decided to help some girl out whose man had passed out on the sidewalk. My thanks? Vomited all over. Help out a pledge at Barndance? Vomit all over. Wine Wednesday? Vomit all over! So why should I be surprised to smell vomit while sitting at my computer on a quiet Sunday afternoon?

Oh and for anyone who is confused. I am not a man-slut. For those of you who insist that I am, I will refute you in a simple list of proofs that any logical person can follow.

1. Webster defines a slut as (a) a woman considered sexually promiscuous and (b) a woman prostitute.
2. I am a man.
3. Thus I cannot be a slut in any real sense of the word.

Supposing that gender were not an issue however. I will address the other parts of the definition.

1. "Considered sexually promiscuous" means that people would have to consider me promiscuous.
2. Statistically something like 99.9% of the world doesn't even know I exist.
3. Therefore 99.9% of people cannot consider me anything, much less promiscuous.

Here's a proof for definition (b):

1. A prostitute is one who solicits and accepts payment for sex acts.
2. While I may solicit payments for sex acts I have never accepted payment.
3. Getting punched in the stomach is not technically a sex act.
4. Therefore I am not a prostitute.
5. Thusly I am not a slut of any sort.

So I don't wanna hear it anymore! If you see me talking to a girl, don't think that you have any right to come up to us and tell everyone that I'm a man-slut. This is no longer socially acceptable. This I decree!

Man-slut Tip of the Week:
Have you ever wondered if you had a "social" disease? Not sure about those 2 girls last night? Wasted all your money on ecstacy and can't afford a trip to the doctor? Well, here's a secret from the pros. Just hook up with a respectable girl who's not made the nightclub circuit like you have. Then confess to her tearfully that you're afraid that you have an STD. Take two aspirin and call her in a couple of days. Voila! Free diagnosis!