Thursday, December 29, 2011

This One Goes To Eleven


Two thousand eleven has been one of those years that no matter what good has happened, the bad makes it easy to dismiss the past 365 days by saying, “Now Daddy, shake 2011's hand, and let's be On. Our. Way.” No bullshit, things got a little ugly this year. But hey, that's alright, right? I've got a number of things lined up for 2012 that will more than make up for this last year's bullshittery, like taking up racquetball, starting life in my thirties, Tammi Gymnastics' and my upcoming trip to SF and Portland, and....becoming a prankster. I really want to take fucking with people up to a whole new level. But before I can do that, I got to get the taste of 2011 out of my mouth. Since the end of December is all about lists, here's mine (in no particular order of importance) for the year:

Friday, December 16, 2011

Oh, Jeezuss!!


One thing that I never can understand about myself is when I grieve for people I’ve never known personally.  There are probably one hundred and fifty degrees of separation between me and Hunter S. Thompson, but I remember the day when a coworker at the bookstore I was working at told me the Doctor of Gonzo died, I actually had to slink into the back room for a minute (or fifteen) to regain my composure. 

So it happened with Richard Pryor.  So it will happen with Bob Dylan.  So it may happen with Richard Lawson, Bill Murray, and Liza Minnelli.  However, I never expected it to happen with someone who I’ve barely been able to tolerate for years:  Christopher Hitchens.

I am what many people would categorize as an atheist, but I rarely talk about it because what’s the point?  I don’t like being affiliated with any sort of “ism”, and with that, I don’t really care for people proclaiming that they do.  I lack a belief in any type of god that’s been invented a millennia ago by a chief of a tribe that figured out the most effective way to have dominion over people.  However, to call myself atheist would be akin to saying, “I don’t believe in God”, which has always seemed counterproductive to the original God/no god argument.

But.  Christopher Hitchens belonged to a dying breed of deep thinkers that will probably be extinct by the end of the next decade.  Don’t get me wrong – I almost walked into a RIVER with pockets full of STONES while the wind chilled my face because it blew so hard against my TEARS after I read Hitchens’ article, “Why Women Aren’t Funny”, but eventually, I forgave all when I saw him sticking his tongue out at and flipping off audience members on Real Time with Bill Maher.  The dude examined his life with gusto, and whether or not I agreed with what he said or wrote, I respected him for mastering my favorite art:  arguing with fucking everybody.  In a world where err'body on Facebook thinks they're a goddamn photographer, losing an annoying philosopher that didn't have a clue when it came to women is ultimately sad.  I almost used the word "saddening", but I'd rather shoot myself.

Anyways, if you haven’t read his latest and last piece in Vanity Fair, I recommend that you do.  If you don’t…well, it’s not like you’re going to hell if you don’t.

Tuesday, December 13, 2011

Saturday, December 3, 2011

Good Enough For a Poke, Huh?

Oftentimes, I find myself using this blog as a storage bin for YouTube videos I just can't live without.  Life has been much sweeter since I first saw the Sexy Sax Man play one of my favorite hits of the 80's in a Del Taco, and I extend my hearty applause to whoever constructed his pants.  It matters not that the number of views these three videos have accumulated equals around a combined 12 million, and that one dates as far back as 2009.  Funny is funny is so funny, and I could really give a shit if I'm posting old news here.




If Arnie, Carol and Sergio formed a super group called Sexual Whispers in Space, I'd wait overnight to buy front row tickets.