Wednesday, September 30, 2015

Offended Liberals

It's been a while since I dusted off my old Meme Breaker.  Since I offended or unfriended most of my conservative friends, I've been at a loss of material to run through it.  Still, I need to keep it oiled and working, so I dug up one of the more recent, absurdist, memes.


This popped up a lot after the whole "Southern Racist Mass Murder" thing.  Here's what the Meme Breaker 2000 came up with.


Hm.  The image is all fuzzy.  Maybe I should upgrade to the Meme Breaker 3000.

Saturday, September 26, 2015

My Mental Man Cave



We shouldn't trust newspapers.  We should trust YouTube videos.

Some background:


On Facebook, a Friend posted how she was disturbed by the photo of a dead, Syrian infant washing up on shore.  One of her Friends (Perhaps he was a friend.  I didn't ask.) replied that the mainstream media was misreporting what was happening : most of the Syrian refugees were men.


I refuted his arguments with witty, incisive remarks.  He posted YouTube video after YouTube video to prove his point.




Then things took "a turn for the jackass."  (That's my new expression.  Feel free to use it.)



I argued YouTube and blogs weren't trustworthy.  He countered that news organizations weren't trustworthy.  How could I trust The New York Times?  They were covering up The Truth!


I don't know about you, but when I can't come up with a good response, I curl up in my mental man cave and brood until I think of one.  It can take months.

Posting on my wall.
Some examples:

To the man who insisted GMO labelling was good because he had "a right to know"
Why?  If you want to avoid GMOs, buy organic. If you're curious, email the company.  The only reason to label GMOs is as a first step to banning them.


To the woman who insisted being compelled to vaccinate based on evidence was like forcing her kids to pig out in a bakery because other parents said it was great (no, really!)
Not inoculating your kids is like driving 100 mph in a school zone because some chucklehead on the internet said car crashes are a fabrication by car companies to sell more brakes.


This is the response I should have given instead of "You fucking racist go fuck yourself you fuck fuck fuckity fuck.":
Should we trust mainstream newspapers?  Of course not.


Newspapers have layers of editors who try to remove bias from articles.  Newspapers fact check.  When they get something wrong, they print retractions.  I see retractions in the New York Times almost every week.  We got this name wrong.  We got this date wrong.  They post every failure.


Remember the Jayson Blair scandal?  The New York Times could have tried to hide their involvement or attack the people who discovered his fabrications.  They didn't.  They owned up to it.  They changed their policies so it wouldn't happen again. 


Why?  Because newspapers are held up to public scrutiny.  Their editors are named.  Their standards are posted.


Should we trust newspapers?  Of course not.  We should always look for their failures. 


YouTubers and bloggers, on the other hand don't...  Well, they just don't.


Don't fact check.

Don't post retractions.

Don't list their standards.

Don't print their names.


Should we trust them?  Of course.  We should trust them to lie to us.



Excuse me while I go skin a mammoth.  If you know what I mean.

Saturday, September 19, 2015

Cunt


Everyone needs to know the answer to the question "How much of a dick am I?"  We've all been called "dick," "jerk," "asshole," and "cunt."
Side Note: I don't quite understand insults towards women.  It sounds strange to call a woman a dick (since they usually don't have any), but no woman-centric insults really work:
·         "Bitch" means aggressive and forceful, which can be a compliment.
·         "Pussy" means weak, which is more often used as an insult towards men.
·         "Cunt" means...  Well, I don't know what it means, but I know it's dangerous to say in the presence of women.
In any case, most of us try to avoid their dickishness, try to become kinder, better people.  Me, I revel in my jackassery.  Hey, why bother trying to improve myself for other people?  Screw other people.

Other people suck.

Being an asshole is fun.

Allow me to present an example of my jerkosity.  I give you the tale of

Matthew and the Itty Bitty Booklight of Love!

Far back in the mists of ancient early 2000s, I read books in the evening.  Paper books.  Those dusty, old things they keep in the library to be read by dusty, old people.

The problem with reading books in the evening is that standard room lights are always too bright.  I bought an Itty Bitty Booklight, a small light that hooked on to the book's cover to make it more like a Kindle.
It's like a book, but it lights itself!
The problem with the Itty Bitty Booklight is the lightbulbs.

You may not remember incandescent bulbs.  They were less expensive than fluorescents, but they didn't cast a weird blue light that made everyone look like rejects from a Goth convention.
What?  Why is everyone staring at me?
Incandescent lights aren't sold much in the US anymore as a single bulb used as much power as a Kiss Concert.  They also burned out.  They burned out a lot.

Light bulbs burning out wasn't a big problem; you could buy more at any store.  The problem was when you needed non-standard bulbs like they used in Itty Bitty Booklights.  They were teensy and nobody sold them in stores.  It took me a while, but I used this new thing called The World Wide Web (or Inter Net) and found a website that sold and shipped them.

When I got to the end of the address page, I found it had a "Gift message for recipient" box.  For a moment I considered sending lightbulbs to all my friends, but decided against it.

You shouldn't have!  Really.
Still, I couldn't just leave the field blank.  I typed "You are an awesome person.  You make the world better every day." and clicked send.

A couple weeks later, my Itty Bitty bulbs arrived.  In the Itty Bitty box was a handwritten note with my exact wording.  I expected a printed receipt with my text at the bottom like Amazon does, but someone had actually taken the time to write out my note.

This is what they used to call "a handwritten note." You used them to keep your place in a dusty, old book.
Months passed, and I burned out my Itty Bitty bulbs.  I needed more Itty Bitty replacements, so I ordered another package from the same site.  Remembering the handwritten note, I decided to see how committed the owners were to personalized service.

In the Gift message box, I typed "I miss the taste of your cock."

A few weeks passed.  The box arrived.  I opened it and found...

A printed receipt with my text at the bottom like Amazon does.  That's right, I made the owners stop writing notes.

That's right, friends.  I'm a cunt.  I have...

Um...


Cuntosity?

Monday, September 7, 2015

Much Ado About Shakespeare

Last week I watched Joss Whedon's Much Ado About Nothing. If you don't know Joss Whedon, he's reached the pinnacle of geek-heroism by creating...  Well, just about everything.  Just look at his IMDB page.

He's so.... Shiny.
His version of the play is even better than Kenneth Brannagh's version (no matter how hot Kate Beckinsale is).

I kept expecting her to bite off Don John's head.
While I watched his movie, I found myself wanting what every actor in Hollywood wants: to be invited to one of Joss Whedon's Shakespeare-reading parties.

He has these parties where he invites his friends over and they all read a Shakespeare play to each other.  I know, right?  Sounds like as much fun as having your brother take you into the basement to re-enact The Cask of Amontillado.  

"And you'll play the part of First Commander from Julius Caesar."
Suddenly, being at one of his parties seemed fun.  Then I remembered my own, failed history with Shakespearean readings.  

My downfall was Mrs. Helms' seventh grade English class.  We did a group reading of Romeo and Juliet.  Since there were so many of us, the larger parts were split between multiple students.  I got one of the smaller parts to myself.

I got to be The Friar, a tiny part with one, enormous, soliloquy.  That would be my Big Break.  I sat through the whole play, waiting.  Waiting.  My soliloquy was coming, and it was long.

Like, Ayn Rand long.
I was nervous.  Would the other kids get bored?  Would I run out of breath?  What if there was a fire drill in the middle, and I had to start again from the beginning?!

Finally, the prince told the Friar to speak.  The class turned the page to my soliloquy.  And they saw how long it was.  And they saw it was a recounting of the entire play we'd just read.

Big moan.  From everyone.

"I will be brief!" I started.

Big laugh.  From everyone.

"Matthew," Mrs. Helms said, "Just skip that part."

But... But...  *SIGH*

I'd become Terry Gilliam's Viking with One Line from Monty Python.

And that's when my career as a great Shakespearean actor crumbled.  No Joss Whedon parties for me.

Unless you know him.  In which case, have him call me!!!!! 

Thursday, September 3, 2015

I'm from 2015. No, Really!

As promised, my piece about a stand-up comic in the sixties telling a crowd about 2015.  Hopefully, less bigoted than before.


Steps out of a cloud of fog wearing a space helmet.

[Robot voice]I am from 2015.

No, really!

[Takes helmet off]

I'm here to tell you that you're wrong about everything in the future!  Don't trust H.G. Welles or Star Trek or Lost in Space.  We don't have jetpacks, laser guns, or flying cars.

We do have self-driving cars.  They're terrible.  They run people over. Drive on sidewalks.  Crash into buildings.  I got one for my teenager.  They still drive better than her.

No robots, either.  Well, we do have them, but they're not very good.  There's one kind that spends all day bumping into walls. [bumps into things] Bump.  Bump.  Turn.  Bump.  It's supposed to be vacuuming your carpet, but we just stare at it and laugh.  Bump.  Bump.  Turn.  Bump.

We do go into space.  Rockets.  Astronauts.

We built a space station!  It fell to down.  We made another one!  It fell back down, too.  We built a third one!  Nobody uses it. 

[Speaks into microphone] Come on, guys, go into the space station.  It's not going to fall down.  No, really, this time we're sure.  No, really!  It won't fall down.  It won't.  Not while you're in it.  It won't fall down when you're in it.  We think. Hello?  You guys still there?  Hello?

We went to the moon!  Yeah, not much there.  Just rocks and...  Um.  Sand.  And, um.... More rocks.  But, hey, we went there!  We planted the American flag and... Left it there.   [makes a gesture like planting the flag at Iwo Jima] Look, we're on the moon!  Yay America!  Everyone come look.  Hello?  Anyone want to see?  [Slumps off, embarrassed]

We built a probe.  We built this probe and filled it with messages of peace and harmony from everyone on Earth.  Then we shot it into space...  Nobody ever found it.  It's still just... Floating out there.  We call it from time to time. 

[Into microphone.] Hey, probe, you still out there?
[robot voice] Affirmative. 
Did anyone find you yet?
[robot] Negative.
How long you been out there? 
[robot] Forty years. 
Well, you just... Keep on going.  Someday, those aliens will find you.
[robot] I'm lonely.

So, space hasn't gone too well, but there have been some great achievements back home.  In the good, old USA.  We elected our first, what you'd call a "colored president."

No, really!  No, really!

Never liked that term, colored.  What color?  Blue?  Orange?  Purple?  How do you explain?  I'm a sallow, pink color.  My wife's a rich tan.  The president is sort of a nice coffee.  What kind of coffee?  Sort of a coffee-with-cream brown.  You mean, like a latte or an espresso?

Yeah, that was stupid.  Now we just call people "people."

No, really!

We made it legal for homosexuals to get married.

No, really!  No, really!

We legalized marijuana.  Yeah, we needed more hippies.  They're fun!  They're like brightly colored chimneys.  They just sit in the corner and smoke until you throw water on them.

Computers!  We do everything with computers.

They're small enough to fit in our pockets.  You got to be careful, though.  [mimes dropping it]  KRSSSSH! Oh, man!  Now I need to buy another computer.  [Mimes dropping it again]  Not again!  You can go through ten, twenty million dollars in a week.

You can play games on them, listen to music.

We watch movies on them.  Why go out?  Yeah, why force yourself to go to a theater with your friends, and make yourself eat popcorn and then have to talk about it afterwards.  Now we just sit down in the dark in our living rooms and BAM!  Movie.  So much better.  Someday, we'll never have to leave our homes, or our bedrooms, or our beds.

We use computers to make phone calls.  Only, you can see each other as well as hear.  So, if your mom calls, you'd better not answer coming out of the shower.
[woman's voice] Hello, Martin? EEEEEK!

We do our work on computers.  And this is where you really got the future wrong.  Computers don't make your work easier.  They make it harder.  No, really!  You know how IBM says we'll go down to a twenty hour work week and only two percent of the world will need jobs? We'd be vacationing all the time?

Ha!  Wow.

Computers make us work longer hours.  And it's not like

[robot voice] We've taken over the world [whip noise] work human!  Work!

No, we do it to ourselves!  Hey, why should I have a life-enriching experience with my friends and families when I could work even harder?  Yeah, that sounds like fun.

Well, thanks all.  You've been a great audience.  I've got to get back to 2015 now.  I left my food in my microwave oven.  If I'm not back in thirty seconds, it'll burn.


No, really!