Wednesday, June 22, 2011

What else are you gonna do... NOT riot??

Since the city of Vancouver erupted following the game 7 loss by their Canucks last week, I haven't been able to shake the feeling that I've seriously been missing out.  There's just something so inherently intriguing and eerily beautiful about the beast that is the sports-induced riot... and I want in.
"And this is me in front of Vancouver's famous raging street fire."
I want so badly to know what it's like to be swept up in the whirlwind that is a mass group of people simultaneously flipping some primal switch in their brains that leads them all, you included, to the same undeniable conclusion; "Flipping cars and arson is definitely the logical way to go here." Then, as if controlled by the mob itself, you proceed ransacking and/or destroying everything within reach until you are ruthlessly beaten into submission with a billy club.
Now I know that may not sound like fun to some of you, but imagine the unbelievable rush it must be to want it so badly that you do it in spite of knowing how it will end.  It's basically like having sex even though you know you might wind up with a baby. Speaking of which, these people found the best of both worlds in Vancouver (Side note: If you're reading this 9 months from now, you live in Vancouver, and your name is Stanley... these are your parents) (Side side note: If you're reading this at 9 months old you are some kind of record-setting baby genius who will inevitably rule the world with an iron fist and I'd like to preemptively pledge my loyalty and servitude to you, baby Stanley).
In the end, it's not a question of how logical or illogical rioting is. It's just a matter of me living my life never having been happy or angry enough about anything to turn over some helpless bastard's Camry, and that my friends, just isn't living at all.

Monday, June 13, 2011

The Truman Show: Rated X

While flipping through the channels the other day I stumbled onto The Truman Show on TBS (I guess I caught the two hour block that day where they weren't peddling some unspeakable Tyler Perry abomination) and every time I watch it I am even more impressed by what a truly good film it is. But this time, something else, something very different, struck me about it.
I thought to myself, with the unbelievable amount of reality TV churned out and napalming our brains each year, how far off are we from a real-life Truman Show? Honestly, I'd give it maybe two, three more years before some psycho heads to the office of a development exec and pitches a show that secretly tapes a baby for the entirety of its life. And don't act like you wouldn't watch it. If you soak in six hours of Teen Mom every week, you'd watch this. But this notion struck me with another, much more troubling question; just how much gratuitous self pleasuring must there have been in the taping of The Truman Show?!
"I swear I can feel their eyes on me..."
Think about it, throughout the film, tons of loyal viewers are shown glued to their television sets, addicted to even the smallest minutia of Truman's life. Now think back to ten or so years earlier, when Truman was but a budding young man in the frenzy of pubescent transformation. Now, if Truman is anything like every other boy in the world, around age thirteen his most prominent pastime quickly shifted from after school cartoons to just completely annihilating himself, often several times a day. And if in fact this was the case, logic says that for a large chunk of years in the long-running 24/7 broadcast of his life, the viewers were watching young Truman come home from school, lock himself in his room, and work over his not-yet-fully-grown wang like he was pumping it for information (and what the ratings did in said years would really say a lot about who the show's core viewership really was).
For shame you fictional perverts, for shame.
Anyway, sorry for ruining The Truman Show for you, but if I have to deal with these questions, so should you.

Wednesday, June 8, 2011

The Texas Mind Police

What do you get when the FBI and your state police force follow up on a tip about a serial killer's dumping ground that contains dozens of dismembered bodies? Confidence in your well being and the peace of mind of a citizen who knows their law enforcement is fully committed to keeping them safe, that's what. Wait... what now? They got the tip about this mass grave from a psychic? Oh. Well... shit.
Are state police and the FBI really spending thousands of tax paid man hours searching for a place that fucking Miss Cleo told them existed? Why not just spend a week or two scouring the wardrobe for Narnia while you're at it?
"Something terrible has happened... a massive waste of tax dollars."
This story seriously floored me when I saw it, and considering the amount of retardedness (yeah, it's a word) carried out by law enforcement officials that's saying a lot. This is literally the real life embodiment of an episode of South Park where Cartman serves as the psychic liaison to the local police (sidenote: watch this episode if you never have, it's friggin hilarious), only the South Park police aren't quite as stupid, because they're fucking fictional cartoon characters.
So what's the lesson here, you ask? If you live in Texas it's high time you move the hell out, because your cops are taking their investigative cues based on the hunches of this guy.

Thursday, June 2, 2011

I guess Shaq was okay...

After spending all morning in my car cursing the existence of LA Lakers fans, I had to get it out. And what better way to do so than on a seldom read blog (What should I confront someone for real? I don't think so, this face is my moneymaker)?
Anyway, since the news of Shaquille O'Neal's retirement (his new nickname: The Big Thing On The Couch) from the NBA after 19 years, Los Angeles radio has been abuzz with reactions. Except here's my problem, half the fans have made me want to drive the car up onto the sidewalk and start mowing down anyone wearing purple and gold.
Lakers fans are for the most part the most spoiled bunch I have ever encountered. And their reactions to the Big Diesel's retirement have proven that beyond a shadow of a doubt they are also the douchiest fans in the NBA (way to do the impossible and out-douche bandwagon Heat fans). Here are the main arguments (or heinous mouth-diarrhea storms) I've heard about Shaq's departure:

"The balls in my shorts dwarf this thing."
- He was great, but he wasn't what he could've been: Are you FUCKING kidding me??! The guy won you three straight championships, all three of which he was the MVP! And he probably would've won you more if your backdoor-sex happy shooting guard didn't drive him out of town. A three-peat. What more do you want? Kill yourselves.
- He never cared enough to learn how to shoot free throws: Why does everyone assume shooting free throws should automatically be simple just because you're in the NBA? The guy is 7'2", which loosely translates into hands the size of fucking frisbees. A basketball is like a softball to him. Try shooting a softball into coffee can ten feet high from fifteen feet away and see how many times you make it. The guy is an ogre. It's bad enough he can't pet a puppy without snapping it's neck, do we really have to crucify him for his lack of touch from the charity stripe too?
- He was lazy: Really? Was he lazy when he was averaging 30+ in the Finals and dominating the paint like he was playing pre-schoolers? Give me a friggin break. Lakers fans have just become so insanely infatuated with Kobe that they think anyone who doesn't make this face is a lazy player. Sorry, that's not intensity, that's intense assholery (and where was that face last year in game 7 when Ron "Dangerously Unstable" Artest had to carry your ass to a championship?) Shaq was a beast. Plain and Simple.

Shaquille O'Neal was one of the most dominant players ever to hit the hardwood and any Laker fan who doesn't revere him like black Jesus with a basketball is a fucking moron. And by the way, all of this is coming from a huge fan of the Orlando Magic, the teamed he spurned so he could make cinematic masterworks like Steel and Kazaam, so this isn't a bias issue either. Give credit where credit is due and stop acting like you weren't happy as a pig in shit that Shaq left Penny Hardaway to play with Nick VanExel you spoiled fucking jerks.