Friday, August 19, 2005
Now maybe it could just be a Daily Show with Jon Stewart thing because, mind you, the only people I've seen really delve (pun intended) into the subject of Martha Stewart's cooch are Jon Stewart and Lewis Black. Jon Stewart devoted a whole chapter of his book Naked Pictures Of Famous People to talking about decorating the ex-con's po-po while Lewis Black likened it to an overpriced umbrella stand in a performance he called Lewis Black - Black On Broadway.
So what does all this mean? I'm not really sure. Maybe people affiliated with the Daily Show with Jon Stewart are fixated by conservative camel toes. Maybe Martha's mound is a comedic safety net; if you start to lose your audience you can just say the words "Martha Stewart's cavernous vagina" and no matter how bad you were bombing before your audience will be roaring.
Hmm... Let me try that.
Martha Stewart's cavernous vagina.
Okay, a few of you were probably chuckling a little, but I guarantee that anybody googling "Martha Stewart's cavernous vagina" are probably just walking in, saying, "What the fuck? Where are the jpegs, asshole?" and then storming out of here in huff.
And if it's not those first two possibilities it might just be something that is infinitely more disconcerting to me as a scientifically-minded individual and a lover of humanity. That possibility being that Martha Stewart does not, in fact, have a vagina because she does not spawn because she is in fact Satan. Now, now. Settle down people.
Michael, you're way off base here. Of course Martha Stewart has genitals, she's just a humble woman trying to fill the world with potpourri scented goodness.
Before you jump on your We-Hate-Michael bandwagon and run me down like a limping dog you should hear me out. When you think of banality, I mean so banal that your jaw could fall right to the floor in fits of yawning, who do you think of? That's right, Martha Stewart. When you think of the dark power of somehow going to prison and coming out much richer than you were before you started your sentence, who do you think of? That's right, Martha Stewart. When you think of the infinite source of potpourri in the universe who do you think of? That's right, Martha Stewart. As you might be just figuring out here, there's a pattern. Martha Stewart has some eery, eery powers at her disposal.
When you think of the power of becoming a convict and then an ex-convict with her own reality television game show promising to allow some hapless innocent the privilege of being an apprentice to an ex-convict, who do you think of? That's right, Martha Stewart.
Sorry, it's hard to break free of the pattern once you get on a roll.
Martha Stewart's cavernous vagina.
Wow. I guess it does work.
So, there you have it. I guess some celebrity genitals, by virtue of being practically mythical, are truly compelling.
Thursday, August 18, 2005
List 10 songs that you are currently loving ... it doesn't matter what genre they are from, whether they have words, or even if they mostly suck, but they must be songs you're really enjoying RIGHT NOW. Give a short reason why you like each song if you can. Post these instructions, the artists, and the 10 songs.
I thought that the prospect of going through a list of 10 songs that I'm currently listening to a lot seemed like fun. So here is my list of 10 songs that come with my recommendation.
1. "Neighborhood #1(Tunnels)" by: The Arcade Fire album: Funeral - The lyrics to this song can be found here. I mention the lyrics because, to me, this is a very transportive song lyrically speaking. There's something incredibly evocative about the notion of a neighborhood buried by snow and people tunneling from window to window to meet up for a rendezvous in the middle of town, forgetting everything that they used to know. It's romance, I suppose, wanting to be alone with a lover after the world is drowned out. And the way the music moves! Wow! Incredible.
2. "All The Love In The World" by: Nine Inch Nails album: With Teeth - There's something rather understated about the first two thirds of the song, but then as soon as you hear the piano and the regular beat you just know it's building to something. I guess at first the song seems to be all about bitterness and resentment, but the fact that there's the aforementioned crescendo after the piano sounding out there's an affirmation.
3. "All These Things That I Have Done" by:The Killers album: Hot Fuss - For the life of me I can't figure out what this song is about, but damned if I can get the "I've got soul, but I'm not a soldier" part out of my head. It's too damn catchy. There are times when I could literally sing that part out loud to complete strangers even when there's no music playing at all and it's in a library or a funeral or somewhere completely inappropriate to sing songs by The Killers. Also, check out a pretty catchy chorus:"You know you've got to help me out." Bah. This song is infectious!
4. "11th Fret" by: Gordon Downie album: Battle Of The Nudes - "So this is fucking off by degrees and I suppose we turned out to be not-quite-hawaii" Once again Gord Downie flexes his obliquity with lyrics that jump from image to image at a torrid pace culminating in "a fleck of new snow on the eyelash of cow and we melt away, melt away, melt away now." I've been trying off and on to learn to sing along with this one, but it's always so hard to keep up with his delivery. I dare say that Gordon Downie is some sort of diabolical genius.
5. "Someone's In The Wolf" by: Queens Of The Stone Age album: Lullabies To Paralyze - I've cited this song as being part of a mix of songs that I listen to when I'm working on my collection of poetry known as Sometimes Sinister and, really, I should have cited this song as being the one that started me down the road to a collection of poetry that strove to be sinister. The guitar riffs are fuzzy and brutal and they suggest doom. Lines like "you don't find your way, the way finds you" have such bad connotations, at least in my eyes. And the crescendo is all about raw fear and it ends with the sound of a knife chopping.
6. "Worlds Apart" by: ...And You Will Know Us By The Trail Of Dead album: Worlds Apart - Definitely not a radio friendly offering from Trail of Dead with profanity all over the fucking place, but when you look past the swear words there's a political statement overtly at work here. "Look at those cunts on MTV with their cars, and cribs, and rings, and shit. Is that what being a celebrity means? Look, boys and girls, here's BBC. See corpses, rapes, and amputees. What do you think now of the American dream?" Amazing stuff. It's just too bad that Trail of Dead doesn't get more recognition to their contributions to the landscape of modern music.
7. "Fix You" by: Coldplay album: X&Y - The latest single from Coldplay's X&Y is sad. Chris Martin has a great voice for this sort of song. I'm so glad that Coldplay was able to parlay what at first seemed to be a whole career off the song "Yellow" into a whole career of a much richer catalogue of music. I just love it when the whole chorus of voices start in with "Tears stream down you face..."
8. "Be Yourself" by:Audioslave album: Out Of Exile - I find it baffling that anybody could possibly hate this song, but I'm sure that somewhere out there somebody hates this song. Chris Cornell has taken a simple, yet powerful message and turned it into a song: "To be yourself is all that you can do". How is that for affirmation? There's something so positive about that statement.
9. "Lost In Hollywood" by: System of a Down album: Mezmerize - If there is one thing that I don't like about SOAD's latest album it's that Serj Tankian's vocal presence has been co-opted somewhat by the vocals of Daron Malakian. I suppose I just have a bit of a preference for Tankian's voice, which can almost sound like a Viking coming through the mists on his way to battle. "Lost In Hollywood" is the song on Mezmerize that best proves the splitting of vocal duties between Tankian and Malakian can not only work, but work extremely well.
10. "The Widow" by: The Mars Volta album: Frances The Mute - Is The Mars Volta pretentious? Quite possibly. That might also be why I like them so much. It's great to have the odd band come along who intentionally diverges from pop stereotypes to deliver an album, or in this case a song, that tries to become a genre unto itself. I can almost see this as a song being sung in a smoky jazz club with it's refrain of "cuz I'll never sleep alone", but it's not a jazz song. I just love acts who you can't name other bands that sound like them. Beautiful stuff.
So there it is. Ten songs that I'm currently digging. I still owe you a Sometimes Sinister mix, but I assure you it will be posted soon. I tweak it from time to time and I want to finalize it before I post.
Tuesday, August 16, 2005
And suddenly she just stops
and closes her eyes.
Silent for a moment.
I’m immediately dumbfounded
so I try to ask what this is
and she shushes me without hesitation.
Then her eyes open once more
and she sighs a sigh of relief
like all evil has just been purged
So I start in with my inquiry
and ask her what that pause was all about
I had to make a wish.
"A wish? Why did you have to make a wish?"
It was 11:11
That’s when you’re supposed to make a wish.
I had never heard of this before
so I press her for more details.
11:11, that’s when the clock is displaying all ones.
It’s the only time on the clock that has four of any one number.
I decide at this point that
she had just given me all the answer I would need.
I could ask for more information
on why the trivial matter of four numbers
would prove to be of any significance in the cosmos,
but I come to the conclusion
that wishing is what keeps her just a little more innocent
than she had led me to believe her to be.
“22 years old and still wishing?
What did you wish for?”
If I told you then it wouldn’t come true, now would it?
“I suppose not.”
Did you make a wish?
“Nope. By time I found out about this practice it was 11:12
and not nearly so magical.”
But what I don’t tell her
is that 11:12 is the only time on the clock face
that is 11 followed by 12
or three ones followed by a two
and probably just as significant in the scheme of the universe
so without stopping or closing my eyes
I go silent just for a second
and I wish that she’d never change.
Monday, August 15, 2005
Okay, here’s the deal. In order to be the owner and operator of a dick from now on you should have to get a fucking license for that shit! No, I haven’t forgotten to take my medication and, yes, I have given this plenty of thought. After all this medication taking and careful thought I have determined that it is about time that men are required by law to pass some sort of cock operating test and, upon passing that test, are granted licenses to own and operate their cocks.
But Michael, you own a penis. Why would you want to make it more difficult to continue owning your own penis? That just doesn’t make any sense.
That’s a good question, actually. I guess there’s a first time for everything. Please, let me explain.
The idea for the dick-licensing test came to me, oddly enough, while I was taking piss in a public washroom. There I was relieving myself into the urinal without a care in the world until I looked down and saw a fucking urine puddle on the fucking floor right at my fucking shoes! The first thought that came into my mind was that if I had caught the fucktard who had pissed all over the floor I would rub his nose in it like I would a dog who is being house-trained. How the fuck can a guy not hit a fucking urinal when he is taking a piss?
Now to clarify a little for all of my readers please let me explain to you a little about what a urinal looks like and how it operates. A few of you out there might be women and you probably don’t any real concept of what a urinal is. Basically, it’s an upright toilet placed against the wall about hip level. Some are full-length meaning that they stretch from about the level of your hip all the way down to the fucking floor. Others will maybe extend down to about the level of your knees. The important thing to keep in mind about urinals is that it’s a fucking vertical toilet. It’s basically a fucking extension of the wall. Us men are pissing against a fucking porcelain wall! When you think of porcelain walls you’re thinking of urinals. There you have it. That’s a fucking urinal.
So how the fuck can somebody not hit a fucking wall with a stream of piss? It beats the shit out of me.
Now, if we had some sort of licensing system in place we could look at instances of these asshats pissing all over the floor and do something about it. That something would have to some sort of fine or maybe even fucking castrations for repeat offenders. These are men who clearly have no fucking clue how to operate a dick and they clearly have no fucking business owning a dick. Welcome to the world of catheters, bitches!
Is that a bit cruel? I don’t think so. Us normal men have spent years perfecting the craft of proper penile usage and our good names are being besmirched by these fucking spastic morons with no real appreciation for a piss well delivered.
I think it’s infinitely more cruel to expect a normal man like me stand in a puddle of piss with semi-respectable shoes. Do you know how fucking embarrassing it is to walk around in public with your expensive shoes smelling like piss from having to stand at a urinal in a men’s room?
But Michael, there could be a good reason why some of these guys couldn’t hit the urinal. Cut them some slack.
Then they should clean up after themselves. They should take a bit of responsibility for their actions. Or they should be fucking castrated.
And chew on this, you fuckwits who piss and miss. When I see your fucking puddles at the foot of the urinal my first impression of you, as a man, is that you are a fucking moron. But think about it, if you had simply just whipped you dick out and pissed, say, all over the bathroom mirror, right in the middle of the floor, or even outside the men’s room like in a fucking ashtray or potted plant my impression of you, as a man, would simply be that you’re a fucking asshole, which is exactly 7 ranks higher in the grand scheme of the universe according to old Mikey here. So ask yourself, ‘Would I rather be a fucking asshole or a fucking moron in Mikey’s eyes?’ Do that before you take a piss. If you know you can’t aim worth shit, at least make that inevitable misfire look spectacular.
You see, there’s the beauty of the whole license system. Not only would it eliminate all these idiots and dolts who can’t tell the difference between a toilet and the fucking floor, but it could also eliminate all these idiots and dolts who knock women up, bolt and then don’t fucking help out the single mothers. Those fuckers are even more useless than the fuckers who piss all over the floor. For all I know those fuckers are the same fuckers who piss all over the floor. It would probably explain a lot about their cock technique in general.
The male penis is a peculiar anatomical feature in the sense that there is a definite art to its usage. Not just any old retard with a couple of testicles full of cum or a bladder to tap can whip his dick out and use it without thoroughly fucking things up. Yet, there doesn’t seem to be any shortage of retards who are whipping their dicks out and fucking things up.
What it all boils down to, then, is responsibility. Real men are responsible; they acknowledge the fact that there are consequences for their actions. If they aim their dicks at the floor when they take a piss and there will be piss all over the floor. If they ride bareback with that drunken desperate girl from the bar last night there will be a bun in the oven. Real men know this and they own up to it. They either fucking clean up the floor or they weigh the options with the mother-to-be. The knuckle-draggers and mouth-breathers who run away from their responsibilities don’t deserve their own dicks. It’s that simple.And yet the women seem to always fall for those same knuckle-draggers and mouth-breathers while decent men like me fall by the wayside. Something’s not fucking right here!