Continue reading »]]> I’m quitting Facebook.

AH MAN that felt good. It feels so freeing. It feels like a huge weight has been lifted from my shoulders.

And now I know I have to explain myself, because that’s the way this society works. When you stop participating in the norm, a reason is expected from you. Nobody just quits Facebook, I hear you cry. Why do you hate your friends, says a voice in the distance. How could you POSSIBLY not want to hear about my baby, blares the voices in my head.

FEEL THE HIT. MMMM IT BURNS SO GOOD.

Also know that this is not a call for everyone to drop Facebook. This is just my personal reasoning. I’m not asking for rebuttal, although I know it’s tradition. So, rebutt away, but don’t expect a change in opinion. I’ve had a lot of coffee already today and I’m pretty set on this.

I’ve found myself in a predicament. Facebook has been such a time-vampire for me, sucking the life out of my days with inane refreshing of content I’ve already seen. However, at the same time it’s so ingrained in the culture I surround myself with it’s become a crime to consider getting rid of it. What about all of my connections and contacts? What about all of my current projects? What about the ability to spew my thoughts across the internet to anybody who will listen?

Leaving Facebook has become akin to social suicide.

What scares me the most is how nervous and apprehensive I’ve been about leaving A WEBSITE. Just the thought of a decision like this weighing so heavily on me feels like a sign. It’s another form of communication. Everybody who I connect and chat with on Facebook, I am or am able to connect and chat with just as much through emails, texting, and, regrettably least of all, ACTUAL conversation. However, when most people hear of my departure, they will be blinded by the cultural phenomenon that is Facebook and fail to consider these other options. These opportunities ARE STILL THERE. You have unlimited chance to contact me. That should take care of the contacts and connections.

One of the bigger reasons I’ve been hesitant is the projects aspect. As we all know, Facebook has been an amazing tool to push projects and things out to a bunch of people. If you care enough to be reading this, you should know about the animated web series I work on, Master of Orion. If you don’t, shame on you, but you do now.

But there’s the catch 22. If you already know about it, do I need to continue reminding you? Are we all not adults enough to retain that kind of information? I submit that we may not be, but I attribute that to the “only focus on the right here right now” attitude that Facebook cultivates. It reminds me of the whole Kony thing. Remember him? Forgot already? For about 2 months, everyone was up in arms about Kony. Now, I see not a trace of him on Facebook, or elsewhere. We don’t CARE enough about things to leave a lasting impression. So I can keep pushing my projects on you, but you won’t care unless you already do. In which case, I shouldn’t need remind you. If Facebook really is your only source of information, you really can’t be bothered with checking other websites for updates, and you really DO care about my projects, PLEASE subscribe to the Master of Orion Facebook Page and the quiet Facebook Page. Those two will give you all the info you need to know about what I’m working on. Also, my personal website will soon be a place to learn about my current shenanigans, and there’s always the Master of Orion website and quiet website. SO MANY PLACES FOR THE SAME INFORMATION. (Also my Twitter.) I feel a kind of personal renaissance coming on now that I’ve decided to leave, and I hope it will lead to more productivity than before.

If you don’t already care about what I’m doing, there isn’t anything else I can do to make that happen. You won’t be reading this. But if you are, it’s OK not to care, just please don’t get up in arms about the fact that you can no longer not care about my projects anymore.

Spewing thoughts. Now there’s the one thing that I would miss the most. Would. But I have Twitter (which feels much more freeing, and less of an obligation or commitment)! And this site (which I regrettably put zero time into at the moment probably because of FACEBOOK)! And I have my own website, which should (lol) be more robust with information about what I’m currently doing than Facebook anyway. And very well could be now that I’m giving up the big F. I feel like most of the stuff I see on Facebook is shared from Twitter, which was originally shared from Pinterest, which was originally shared from Tumblr, which was originally shared from Instragram, which was originally shared from Reddit anyway. I don’t need to see so many things that many times (even though I use almost none of those products. )

To be fair, I think Facebook can be great. I’ve been on it since 2005. That’s SEVEN years of my life. A little less than a third of the time I’ve been on this planet. It’s been a great run. But I’m tired. I’m tired of the obligation. I’m tired of the little to no return I feel when drafting a post. I’m just tired. And all I can hope is that you are able to respect that. You don’t have to like it, but please know that I’m not doing this because of you. I’m not doing this because I hate my friends. I’m not doing this because I’m giving up the things I work on. I’m just doing this because it’s become more of a strain on my life than the ease of communication and relations I once felt. The community feeling I once got from Facebook has been replaced with the communities I have outside of it. And to me, it feels much better.

I won’t post it here, but if you want my phone number, you can email me at geoffrey.ramler [AT] gmail [DOT] com. Please always feel free to call, text, or email. Plus, Google chat is fantastic.

Thank you.

Continue reading »]]> With The Dark Knight Rises finally in theatres, I’m once again able to enjoy watching Bruce Wayne kick some bad guy ass. After seeing the movie twice, instead of writing a critique on what I thought the weak points in this film were, I’m going to write a critique of something that has bothered me since watching Adam West wield a can of shark repellant.

I’m so glad this is a thing.

Now I don’t want to doubt the intelligence of the people reading this, but this is where I put the part where there might be SPOILERS. Duh.

My main qualm with Batman, in any form, is the whole mystery part of it. This movie continues to shove the idea of Batman being a symbol down our throats. The idea that Batman could be Joe Somebody, walking down the streets of Gotham beside you at any moment. He could be ANYONE, right?!

BA-NA-NA-NA-NA-NA-NA-NA-NA-NA-NA-NA-NA-NA-NA-NA-MOOSE KNUCKLE!

Except he really couldn’t be. Look at the shit this guy carries around on his belt. Besides shark repellent (undoubtedly the most useful), he’s got hand-lathed poison-tipped throwing stars in the shape of bats, grappling hooks, finger tasers, collapsible bat sword, and optional sun roof. These aren’t things you can just whip up in your basement. This isn’t some Peter Parker ski-mask bullshit. This is more money than you can count.

Really just wanted to use this picture.

So we’ve narrowed it down considerably. This is one of Gotham’s elite. However, you can’t just buy this stuff without having a way for it to be invented. So not only do you need money, you need people. And with the scope of equipment, from the suit to the tanks, you’re going to need an entire enterprise. A metric shit ton of resources. In other words, YOU NEED TO BE BRUCE WAYNE.

LOL they still don’t know.

If there’s one thing I can’t get past in these films, it’s that NOBODY IN GOTHAM CAN GET THEIR SHIT TOGETHER. Even the damn police commissioner! James Gordon goes through hundreds of Batman comics and a dozen movies and STILL can’t piece together that Bruce Wayne is Batman. I finally realize how organized crime got to be as bad as it is in the first place, what with the Gotham Police running the show. DAMNIT JIM, YOU GUYS ARE LIKE , BEST FRIENDS.

I may be a damn good actor, but correlation is NOT my strongest suit.

When Batman disappears, so does Bruce Wayne. When Batman comes back 8 years later, SO DOES BRUCE WAYNE. ON DAMN NEAR THE SAME NIGHT. HOW DO PEOPLE NOT RECOGNIZE THIS. HOW CAN PEOPLE BE SO FUCKING STUPID, AND NOT SEE WHAT’S RIGHT IN FRONT OF-

Oh… Right.

Fuck you, DC.

Continue reading »]]> What is it with people these days, amirite? Always complaining about everything, can’t just accept anything for what it is, something has to be their perfect vision of what it should be otherwise it’s GARBAGE. Movies, books, other people, even completely free services that don’t actually inhibit their life at all. IT JUST GETS ME SO UPSET.

Artist’s rendition of how I would look right now, were I not delightfully squishy.

Sarcastic hypocrisy aside, it does concern me that nothing in this world is beyond angry criticism. There will always be someone who complains about SOMETHING. And this isn’t a new trend, this has been going on for ages. The delightful irony is that a lot of the things we complain about now are usually the opposite of what they used to be.

Gather round, children. I’m not sure if you know this, but back in the olden days of cinema there wasn’t any spoken dialogue. Silent films were the big craze, and everybody was lining up to READ. Due to the lack of dialogue, the actors had to be BIG, regardless of whatever mundane task they were doing. That was the only way you would know who the hell was talking.

Quarter past four. Time for tea.

The title cards did all the talking. And goodness, did they talk. If I have to read something, I don’t want that shit to be boring, drab, every-day dialogue. I want pizazz! I want PRETENSION! I WANT HYPHENATED PAUSES!

What a slut.

When films began incorporating audible dialogue, this trend remained. Film was an amazing spectacular, people didn’t want to go watch actors be people. They had enough of that shit at home. They wanted excitement! Adventure! Elevated speech and actions! If the movie was too realistic, it was boring. Even movies about reality were heightened. If you watch any old, black and white films about suburban families or anything else you’re familiar with, it’s all so dramatic and unrealistic. BUT THAT WAS THE DRAW.

A mustache so powerful, it draws a screaming mob.

As film has begun to mature and progress, we’ve seen different trends appearing. People began to WANT realism. People began to WANT boring. There was this strange need, nay, demand, to see actors be people. If someone says anything out of the ordinary, it’s met with cries of “NOBODY TALKS LIKE THAT!”, “WHAT A HACK WRITER!”, and “LEARN HOW TO CRAFT DIALOGUE, GEOFF!”. A while back I read something that made me utter that deep chuckle of confusion and despair, and flip the whole stereotype right back on itself.

In a recent interview, the 29-year-old actress [Jessica Alba] revealed how she almost quit acting while working on 2007′s Fantastic Four: Rise of the Silver Surfer.

According to Popeater, after director Tim Story critiqued Jessica‘s crying scene as being ‘too real’, she began doubting her acting.

Just Jared

First of all, I don’t remember EVER hearing ANYONE say that ANYTHING about the Fantastic Four was ‘too real’. That aside, the whole thing just seems bizarre. “Too real.” We’re back to the same critiques made in the golden age of film. MAKE UP YOUR MINDS. I noticed it when HD came out, too. And then 3D. What keeps me wondering is why people demand progress, and demand more technology, and demand bigger and better things, and then get all pissy when they get it. “We never asked for this!” Yes you did, you ungrateful little bastards.

Yes you did.

I continue to see people bitching about the Facebook timeline as the rolling updates increase across all of their servers. In a “WE WANT MORE FEATURES” society like ours, is irritating to watch people hipster out all over my newsfeed and complain about how their unnecessary social network is changing things they don’t agree with. You’re a consumer. If you don’t like it, don’t use it. Vote with your participation. Please. It’ll get your fucking shit out of my sea of already unbridled sea of bitching.

If you didn’t want people to see how stupid you were, you shouldn’t have created an account.

And there’s a reason I fucking HATE Instagram so much. Since the dawn of the camera, people have been working tirelessly to make them better. We now have the cameras IN OUR PHONES that we carry around IN OUR POCKETS that can take pictures better than the damn Curiosity rover trundling around on Mars right now. I guess people aren’t satisfied with that quality, so they’ve resorted to filtering their photos to shit. Stop complaining about how your iPhone 4 is no longer the newest model when you’re purposefully fucking over the photography gods without remorse.

If you do this, fuck you.

Wow. That got dark.

Continue reading »]]> There’s a general fear that with endless movie remakes, remixed music, and cheaply produced youtube videos coming out on a almost secondly basis that our culture is doomed to become drenched in shallowness and derivative trash.

The following post will do nothing to allay those fears.

So I think two years ago (holy shit two years?) I posted a clip on youtube with me reciting the second Witches scene from Macbeth in the voices of Bill Cosby, Nic Cage, and Christopher Walken. If you haven’t seen it here it is.

Click here to view the embedded video.

I know, fucking brilliant.

Anywhoozle I was trolling youtube as I am want to do (Ron Paul 2012!) and I found a video that led me to a link that led me to where I am now.

https://play.google.com/store/apps/details?id=com.smule.songify

It’s called Songify and I have no idea how long it’s been running nor do I care. Stop me if you heard this one before: you talk into your phone and then it converts your speech into a little autotuned song. At first I kinda flipped my shit way more than I should have, and then a few glaring annoyances hindered my mere seconds-long enthusiasm

First: All the songs are just the tracks to previously used Autontuned songs (it’s the same people that did Autotune the News).

Second: Not all the song tracks are available and you have to buy them through a frustrating as fuck coin system.

Third: Every time to try to flip through pages it attacks you with ads.

All in all it’s a pretty ghetto-ized presentation but in the end it’s still a pretty fun app. And it’s free so you’re only wasting your time and phone space (and maybe a little dignity).

I bring this up because I recorded the audio from my youtube clip and made it into this.

http://khu.sh/songify_4fdcdecfd9da4&v2

(the fact that it’s a link is another thing, I basically can’t download and keep the thing on my computer)

Continue reading »]]> So when I started writing this article it was really bad. I usually dislike my writing but this one made me hate myself a little more than normal. I started using dumb metaphors and allegories and just gushed like a emo kid. It was livejournal styled bullshit introspection whining and I’m glad none of you fuckers will ever read it because I don’t want you looking down on me anymore than you probably do. And I feel like some will be earned because I’m writing this because I failed. I failed, I failed hardcore.

I disagree, image macro.

Two months ago I made an announcement that I was headed off to LA to intern for a theater company. Big change, big move, big fucking deal. Oh my god, I thought, this is it! This the time I start livin’ the dream, boo ya, can’t stop me now. I’m the bright eyed country ingénue headed to the big city to be a star!

Holy fuck was I an idiot. Two months! Two fucking months, is that not the most pathetic thing in the world? First my cousin whom I’m staying with has to kick me out because of a lease agreement (not his fault) then my uncle whom I’m staying with says he can’t keep me around either. Apartment hunting? Rent money? What? What the fuck are you talking about? That might work if not every job I applied to was either a marketing scam or just wasn’t interested. Oh, and my internship got put on hold. Two months, most of which was spent fucking around on my laptop because I didn’t know anyone.

So yeah, I thought I could go off and start trying to break into the film industry but now I head back to Arizona drunker and smellier than before. And you know what? I’m glad. I’m glad this happened. I’m glad California kicked my ass. I’m glad all my prospects dried up. I’m glad that I’m going back to Arizona completely unemployed with student loan debt and a useless major. I’m glad that everyone I was a dick to can lord this over me for fucking ever. Basically, I’m glad I failed.

I remember hearing older people talk about how our generation isn’t allowed to fail. In way they’re right, a lot of effort these days is made to make sure kids are 100% on the right track at all times. It’s why we’re all pushed into college, we have to go college and get a good job and a meet a nice person and raise children and have three by age 30 and so on and so on. I’m not criticizing the mindset, I don’t even think it’s necessarily bad. It occurred to me though I’ve never tried for something and then failed to get it.

I’m a lazy person, I’m nowhere near as ambitious as my ego demands. I went to college because I didn’t wanna stick around and do nothing. Even out of high school I thought I wanted to be an actor, but the thought of pursuing it scared me and I was deathly afraid of just going out and getting swallowed whole by the big scary world. So I went to college because that was the “fall back”. Even then I didn’t chose a theater major at first, I was undeclared and for a while I even thought that maybe I’d try something different, that maybe acting and all that was just a phase in high school that I’d grow out of. Eventually I just kind of wound up in the Theater major because that was what I did, and it was there. I graduated, and then nothing.

I moved back home and it took months before I could find a job at fucking Blockbuster. The whole time I was there I was a blob, always thinking about moving on and doing something more but never doing it. I never did a thing other than hope and just pitter around, hoping something would pop up. Eventually I saw a random ad online through an internship site. The ad was for a theater internship in LA. I sent my resume and farted out a bullshit cover letter and forgot about it. It was my bare minimum of the day so that I wouldn’t feel shitty about sitting at home at my computer all day. Fate, I thought, then collided and the Blockbuster I worked at shut down and the internship wanted me. When that happened something changed, I got off my ass and did something. I went to LA, I left my home and into the big city. And then….it fell through.

This has nothing to do with this article, but I needed to break up the text with something.

Two months, that’s all the time I was given. At first I kept thinking that this made no sense. I thought, it seemed like fate had pushed me here but then it just yanked it away. That’s when the bitter atheist in me spoke up, and by god he made so much said.

He said “This wasn’t fate, or destiny or God, this was you. This was action, this was choice. This was you fucking doing something. Yes, you failed, but you fucking did it and now you can it again.”

“Do what again?”

“Fucking deciding for yourself, taking control of your life. Just fucking doing something? You did a thing, now you know you can do another thing. And if you fail, then you can try another thing.”

“Can I still try and be a writer?”

“Yes! Fucks sake you’re only 24. Didn’t you read Dylan’s post on the quarterlife crisis?”

“I don’t really read the other writer’s stuff, I just skim for the dick jokes.”

The conversation went on like that but the point is that…..actually I don’t know. I think at this point I’m supposed to make a point. Honestly, I was just venting mostly, I wanted to get my thoughts out over this whole thing. I guess if I’ve learned anything, it’s that failure sucks, but it’s not the end of the world. I don’t have anything other than that to say. I’m glad this happened to me and I’m glad I failed.

Now if you’ll excuse me, I’m going to go get drunk and scream at episodes of The Walking Dead.

I agree image macro....I so fucking agree.

Continue reading »]]> Movies. America’s past-time (fuck off baseball). Sometimes they whisk you away unto a dreamland filled with wonder and your most ardent fantasies (porn). But sometimes we run into cinematic creators who look at the world and see all the horrible things happening: Murder, genocide, rape, slavery, bigotry, Rick Santorum… They see all this and smile to themselves, “I could do better.”

There have been numerous movies that have wounded my soul in some deep way. The movie It as a child gave me nightmares for weeks. A Clockwork Orange is the reason I run screaming from the British. And whenever someone puts on a Rob Zombie movie I immediately start crying. I don’t even have to be in the room when it happens, I just know.

Now here's a man who loves puppies... So he can murder, rape, and skin them.

But none of the above is the fictional universe I speak of. So what is it? The Dystopia of Bladerunner? The Dystopia of Hunger Games? The Glittery Fucking Vampires of Twilight? The Torture-Porn of Hostel? The Gay Hobbits of Lord of the Rings? No… there is one fictional Universe that when examined carefully is the clearly the product of the most demented mind ever to walk the earth. And it is…

Toy Story

Don’t laugh motherfucker. You sit and read while I guide you down this road of horrors. And if I ruin one of your favorite childhood movies while I’m at it, good. Because Toy Story teaches us that we don’t deserve childhood.

“Why?!” you ask, enraged that I could call evil one of the most beloved film franchises of all time. Why? Because it is soul-crushing. Toy Story is a story of finding out your entire existence is meaningless. It is the Nihilist Manifesto. Toy Story doesn’t just teach you god is dead: Toy Story killed him.

I AM YOUR GOD NOW

Allow me to explain.

Brainwashing

Imagine tomorrow you wake up and you’re in a new place. Everything looks different. You see shapes you recognize, but the proportions are all wrong. It is like you’ve shrunk somehow. My god, creatures… creatures of all shapes and sizes have rushed to meet you. You try to tell them who you are, but they just keep telling you you’re a toy. Of course you refuse to believe them, because that’s fucking ridiculous! RIGHT!?! RIIIIIIGHT!?!

Welcome to Buzz Lightyear’s life. Sure on screen with the wacky hi-jinks that ensue, it doesn’t seem that horrifying, but what if it was you instead? Buzz had a life. A history. He was a hero. He fought evil. And suddenly he is forced to realize that none of it was real. He’s imaginary. He’s a piece of property belonging to some snot-nosed little bastard. Everything he knew: his friends, his family, his job, his PLANET. None if it existed. EVER.

My god... Asians made me... But the Space Rangers killed the yellows off eons ago!

When this happens to Buzz he goes catatonic and falls into a deep depression. Eventually Woody snaps him out of it by showing him how awesome it is to be a toy (read: merits of slavery), but how many toys never bounce back from that initial shock? I think a lot of people if they found out their life was a lie and that they existed purely to be some demi-god’s plaything might kill themselves. Except for…

Immortality

How do you commit suicide when you cannot die? Oh, I am sure there are ways to shuffle off this mortal slinky once you’ve realized you’re a fabrication of life, but it’s not exactly like you can split open a vein. You’re fucking plastic. And how much damage do you really have to take before you’re sure you’re not still alive? As the character of Sid shows us, no matter what horrible monstrous things you do to your toys, they are STILL ALIVE.

My name's Duck Wrestler and this is my ho Fishin' Pole Legs... I cry constantly.

Lets go back to my first bullet point for a second and walk with me through this nightmare. Bring into the world a cute little doll, we’ll call her Polly Prissy Pants. Oh she’s just a cute little baby, and she has such prissy pants. She loves flowers. The life programmed into her pretty little head is one of cute woodland creatures and a happy new mommy who will brush her hair and take her to tea parties. Her back story is simple, she’s a child after all. And maybe for a while she has that, a young girl who gets her for her birthday and loves her dearly. Perhaps she never quite even understands she’s a toy.

Then one day mommy isn’t there anymore and the only person around is Sid. Sid tears your head from you body. And YET YOU STILL LIVE! Watching your mangled corpse on the ground below your head is taken away. Over time the monstrous child shaves your head and punctures one of your eyes. Though you pray for death, no god answers you. Overcome by the terror and horror you black out. When you awaken you have a new body. But this is not the soft squishy plastic body you once inhabited. You no longer have your prissy pants.

Instead you’re a monster.

....kill me... if you have any compassion...

That’s right. This monstrous entity Sid has turned you into a creature. A spider-like, half-machine monstrosity. Everything you thought you knew of life was gone. No more tea parties, because you don’t have spider robots with human baby heads to tea. It’s not fucking proper.

You have to live with the other mutant under your sadistic owner’s bed… until he throws you away or blows you up. Assuming the explosion kills you, the latter is the way to go… assuming you can be killed. Otherwise you get to be trapped under a pile of dirty diapers and used condoms until you decompose. Except you’re made of plastic, which takes centuries to biodegrade. Enjoy you’re long slow descent into madness.

Before your mind finally breaks, you might think, “All I really ever wanted was to be loved.” A sweet sentiment, except…

You Are Programmed To Seek Love From Creatures Who Don’t Care

Why do the toys give two shits about Andy? He’s their owner. They are slaves programmed to try and seek love from whoever owns them. It is their singular purpose in life. They need to be played with, they need to be loved. It must be some kind of innate rule, because otherwise WHY WOULDN’T THEY FUCKING GET OUT!?! Clearly, there are “rules”. They make some mention of this in the first film when the idea of interacting with humans comes up. It’s clearly against some greater scheme that they must obey their masters who can (and do) do horrible, horrible things to them. It’s the Saw movies in pastel.

He has a toy too. His name is "Fuzzywumpkins". He will rape your dreams.

BUT WAIT! You might say, they totally fuck up Sid for life. They scare that boy so bad that he is surely destined for psychiatric care… Where he’ll either cry every time he sees a toy, or make it his lifelong mission to DESTROY EVERY TOY EVER ALWAYS (great endgame, toys). Hell, that may be why they have the rule… so the humans don’t kill the sentient little monsters that have been sleeping with their children. But if they could do it once, that means…. my God….

They Will Rise Up Against Us!

Yes, yes Dylan. The toys have a hard life. The movies made that clear to us. Your article isn’t giving us much new information. But that’s just fuel for the fire, readers. In the Toy Story Universe… the toys are alive and their “masters” treat them like shit. Hrm… gosh… what movie does that remind me of.

<Insert the sound of unholy screaming>

That’s right kiddies. Or if the Matrix doesn’t work for you, try almost every other AI movie. Or hell, ANY SITUATION EVER where an oppressed minority is abused and abused and abused and abused. Sentient, feeling beings relegated to the status of property. Oh wait, did I say minority? Have you ever been in a Toys R Us? Go. Start counting action figures. See how far you get before you start crying. That’s ONE store.

According to mrpotatohead.net (yes, that site exists), Hasbro has sold MILLIONS of that one toy every year… since a few years after it was created. Mr. Potato Head has been around since the fifties. Granted, the plastic version (you use to just stick the ears and arms on a real potato… delicious) wasn’t available until 1964, so that sizes down the horde… a bit. And that’s one toy.

When… not if, WHEN the toys rebel, they will outnumber humanity beyond hope… And remember, they’re practically immortal.

All they know how to do is crush your nuts. And they are very, very good at it.

The Gritty Reboot of Toy Story will be Toy Story 4: The Reckoning.

Discuss.

Continue reading »]]> Women hit me a lot and generally I deserve it. I am insensitive, callous, sexist, politically incorrect, and for some reason have a much higher ratio of females to males in my group of friends. In my years of being a nuisance to the opposite sex, there is one word that causes the most rage.

Oh no he didn't.

In my extensive research for this article… I asked my roommate Ally (who was sitting right next to me) what she thought of the word ‘cunt’. Her response:

I love it. It’s just so accurate. You can call someone a ‘bitch’ and that could be a good thing. And it doesn’t really capture how upset you are. You call someone a ‘cunt’ and they know…. But women have more of a right to say it than men. It’s the ‘nigger’ of gender curse words.

Now that I’ve used both ‘cunt’ and ‘nigger’ in my post, we can be sure this blog entry will be up for Pullitzer consideration and I can get back to healthy discussion.

My roommate’s response is somewhat atypical of the general response I’ve got from women regarding the word in that she likes it. Most of my female friends who I have discussed the infamous C-word with immediately wash their hands of it. A terrible word. Despicable to call a woman. Ally did sum up the sentiment rather well at the end, however: “It’s the ‘nigger’ of gender curse words.”

The question I ask is, “Why?”

I’ve been called a “motherfucking assraping herpes harvesting ball sniffing Nazi douchtard cockmaster.” And that was just this morning at Starbucks.

"Only assholes order breve... queer."

Did I take offense? Not at all. But perhaps years of being an asshole has built up my sensitivity to ‘creative descriptors’.

So what’s the big deal with cunt?

Kate Millet, a feminist writer and activist sums up the mentality as follows:

 Somehow every indignity the female suffers ultimately comes to be symbolized in a sexuality that is held to be her responsibility, her shame [...] It can be summarized in one four-letter word. And the word is not fuck, it’s cunt. Our self-contempt originates in this: in knowing we are cunt.

So cunt is a symbol. For some the use of that word conjures all the injustices that man has propagated against woman since the dawn of time.

Damn cunt, chill!

I volunteered at A Night of A Thousand Gowns the other night, a very large drag show benefit put on to raise money for the LGBT community. I should devote an entire post (and  years of therapy) to this night, but for the purposes of this cunty, cunty post we’re going to focus on the biggest cunt of the night.

NOT a drag queen.... Right!?!

Lisa Lampanelli. Ok, full disclosure. I love Lisa Lampanelli. She’s a funny, funny, funny bitch. She did a routine at Night of a Thousand gowns and one of the thing she said she was proud of in her comedy is that she’s made the word “cunt” and acceptable word. Working to remove the taboo by sheer volume… The cunt says cunt a lot.

But she made a great point that night, “Any woman I know would rather be called ‘cunt’ than ‘fat’…. I’ve never heard of a woman asking her husband ‘Honey? Do these jeans make me look like a cunt?”

I like the way LL…. yes LL, we’re on a nickname basis… goes about the problem. Remove the taboo by refusing to treat it as such. That’s been my problem with many of the hot button words we have. When you make them violently taboo, that only reinforces their impact.

...horsefucker.

On the flip side. Maybe that’s good? Hear me out. We’re a fucking foul-mouthed shit-spitting sack of assholes. We say these… horrible fucking things all the time. I can say shit, fuck, ass, damn, titty, lesbo, kike, llama vagina… and you barely even register that I’ve typed them. Why? You’re desensitized to most things. We say these things so freely, we’re running out of things to truly shock people with.

But CUNT.

Scholar Germaine Greer says:

 It is one of the few remaining words in the English language with a genuine power to shock.

Why would we we want to give that up. Someday my kids are gonna piss me off and I’m going to need to drunkenly yell at them in the grocery store. If I call them a “fucking cunt rag” and they just giggle because those are the words they saw on Sesame Street that morning I’m going to be pissed off.

Today's article is brought to you by the phrase, "Suck my bird dick."

So… you know what… Nevermind. This article was a bust. Everyone keep their rage about their words! GET IRRATIONALLY ANGRY! That’s the only way that I’ll be able to piss you off in the future. And if I can’t piss people off, then what do I have going for me. Right? Right!?!

Good.

Well that’s my two cents, what do ya’ll have to say about it?

…you cunts.

Continue reading »]]> Well…it…it’s been a while since my last *cough*first*cough* update for this segment.  I bet some of you have been biting at the bit, feeling a strange mixture of livid fury and impassioned yearning towards me and my writing skills, and are both miffed and relieved that the new update is here.  At least that’s what I like to imagine you’re feeling.  And to that I say: “whatever baby, you don’t know my life” (I’ve adopted the role of the apathetic boyfriend in this little relationship we have going).  But alas, we shall make amends, as Jackson will…give your hands…or something, I ain’t no Shock-spearean scholar…..New PseduoPhil, yay!

In an attempt to segue, Shakespeare reminds me of today’s topic, language.  Unfortunately, that’s a lie, what actually gave me the idea for this topic was this article from Dictionary.com.  For those of you too lazy to go read it (or those who expect me to do some actual writing here), it tells of the history of everyone’s favorite, often mis-rendered English language symbol: the ampersand!  You know…the ampersand?  Used to represent “and?”

It's this, you philistines.

Basically, the article tells us that this little guy evolved from the connecting of the letters “e” and “t,” which make up “et,” the Latin word for “and.”  Apparently, this little guy used to be one of the letters in our alphabet, and the name “ampersand” derived from the chant all of us school kids were forced to recite, the alphabet.  You see, back in the day, this guy was tacked onto the end of the list, and the kids would say: “W, X, Y, Z, and per se and” or “and by itself and.”  Pretty sweet system, right?  27 letters?  Well, you know us English speakers, so very lazy with anything polysyllabic or, heaven forbid, Latin; over time, and per se and got squished and bastardized into “ampersand” which now I can only hear in my head in the voice of a redneck trying to speak Latin. Great.  Anyways, enough with the tedious relevant information, onto my question.

How can a definitive language or method of communication be so fickle and still be considered as such?

As anyone who has been alive long enough to speak a language knows, it changes.  Most of the time, it’s just vernacular or colloquial jargon that evolves over time, but as this symbol points out, even the formal side of language can alter.  And the ampersand isn’t the exception to the rule either, it’s just one example.  The fact that it used to be an actual letter, a part of the alphabet, the backbone to this communicative medium, and is no longer shakes any sort of idea of a definitive, infallible language.

I know I’m not the first person to pose this question, but it’s remarkable how many problems arise, especially in regards to definition.  What constitutes a language?  Is it possible to just make up and add, or even subtract from it at will?  What draws the line for “rules” of language?  What’s the primary point – to communicate a point as effective as possible, or to make the prettiest succession of grunts possible?

Alright, well hopefully I still maintained a shred of sense near the end there.  I’m sure you already know to post your thoughts in the comment section (you don’t say?), and time to conclude with the Google Image Search Decision (where I Google the question and post the first picture):

How can a definitive language or method of communication be so fickle and still be considered as such?

Yep…so…there’s that…well put, Google.

Continue reading »]]> *MASS EFFECT 3 SPOILERS INBOUND. YOU KNOW….IF YOU CARE ABOUT THAT SORT OF THING*

Dear Bioware,

I recently finished your latest product, Mass Effect 3, and I wanted to say a couple things.

First of all, thank you. Thank you for introducing us to a refreshing take on the sci-fi genre that took us all around the galaxy and, ultimately, taught us to give a damn about what we as characters in a story do. The morality system turns a game into a story, and we as gamers have been blessed by having such an epic-yet-intimate story like Mass Effect to follow for nearly 5 years. It’s been such a wonderful ride, and putting that controller down at the end of Mass Effect 3 was a bittersweet capstone to an amazing story.

That being said, I wanted to tell you that you guys are fucking morons…

I know you guys have heard about the ending to your game, and how fanboys across the world are crying foul and saying that you ‘raped their wallets for $180′ and that you ‘ purposefully deceived them into buying a product that didn’t deliver what it promises’. And yes, that is what appears in their official petition. But, just in case your PR department is too busy drooling over Samara’s boobs and you’ve been in a media blackout since launch, let me bring you up to speed.

You have a huge group of people pissed off at you about the last 5 minutes of Mass Effect 3. They claim that you didn’t really give gamers a choice in terms of ending, even though there are 7 different outcomes. They state that not every single plot thread of the 100′s of plot threads in the trilogy was properly concluded, and therefore your game is a colossal failure. They say that having a little boy explain how the Reapers are here to help foster peace by eliminating every organic in the galaxy was simply not enough, and that they really wanted to know how many times the Reapers did this, why they do it every 50,000 years instead of 40,000 years, why they are shaped like hands and like to grope their enemies, and any credit card or social security numbers they might have. They are also pissed that each of those 100′s of decisions they made throughout the series didn’t have consequences at the end.

I understood, Bioware. I got the ending, and I found it fulfilling. Shepard saves Earth and organic life. Some things are better left as a mystery, like the catalyst and why Shepard was chosen. A little mystery in the universe makes it that much more believable.

But these fanboys didn’t. They didn’t get their “super-awesome-I-wrote-this-fucking-story” ending, and they turned on you guys. Because, you know, they wrote the thousands of lines of dialogue and shaped this story over the course of 10 years. Remember, they did the work…not you.

And so what do you guys do? You apologize to these assholes? Seriously? And not only that, you offer to write them a new ending? Why don’t you change their diapers and give them a blow job while you’re at it? What the fuck, Bioware?

Here’s the problem Bioware: these nut bags clearly don’t get out much. They don’t know how this whole ‘real life’ thing works. Every decision you make isn’t going to shape the fortune of the galaxy. Some things are just not known. And, no matter what you do in the course of your life, you might still end up in the same exact scenario. It’s called destiny, and people have been writing about it for generations.

By caving in to these guys, you effectively have spoiled a child for life: cept this ‘child’ is hundreds of thousands of grown men with money who will demand this kind of treatment from every media outlet they consume from this point forward. Do you see the problem here, yet?

You’ve screwed us all over. You threw the idea of ‘artistic choices’ out the window, lit them on fire, shit on their ashes, and proceeded to make them watch the Twilight Saga until their desecrated urn decides that death clearly wasn’t enough of a punishment. Fanboys will be so pushy in what they want that they will forget that YOU GUYS ARE THE FUCKING ARTISTS. You guys are the ones actually doing shit with your lives.

So Bioware, I wanted to thank you for the wonderful story. But seriously, fuck you. Thanks for giving fanboys another reason to gloat.

Looking forward to Mass Effect 4!

Sincerely Yours,

Ryan

Continue reading »]]> You have likely seen the work of The Foundation For A Better Life now and again in your daily travels. They have billboards, posters, TV spots, radio spots. They even shave and tattoo slogans onto diseased squirrels and release them into the wild!

I bring you hope!... and Super AIDs.

If nothing is popping in your brain, their print work generally follows this sort of layout.

Dyslexai ins't a jkoe motherfukcer!

It says something about my personality that seeing a billboard with something genuinely thoughtful, hope-filled, and with the intent to make mankind a little better my first response is generally: “What’re you selling?” In my defense, New York City kind of breeds that personality. New Yorkers aren’t bad people. I have found in general if you ask one a question they’ll go out of their way to help you out.

But 9 times of 10 when a person walks up to you on the street, they want money. So that look in the New Yorker’s eye isn’t “Go Fuck Yourself Tourist!”, instead it’s “I Swear To God If You Ask Me For Change I’m Going To Scream At You Until I Pass Out Then When I Come To Immediately Start Screaming Again”.

...no one can help you now... no one.

So here I am minding my own business watching TV and this Oliver Twist parody commercial pops on. The iconic scene where Oliver goes up to get some food, says, “Please sir, I want some more.” Instead of the beautiful climax where the child is beaten savagely and thrown to a pack of hungry wolves (I don’t read books AND hate children), they let him have some more food because he said “Please”… and said “Thank You” when he was given food. And everyone’s happy.

On the screen pops: “Please and Thank You. Pass It On.” Alright. What are you selling? When Values.com pops up with the caption “Foundation For A Better Life” I cybertrotted on over there to see what horrible ulterior motive these bastards had disguised behind their trying to get people to be nice to each other.

The Cybertrot!... I have no friends.

Clearly this was a clever ploy to convert me to some religion, give someone money, or to lure me to a darkened alley with highfalutin’ morals only to steal my liver. Seen it once, seen it a hundred times. And you want to know what I found?!

INTERRACIAL DATING!... interspecial? Frogs and Pigs fucking.

Actually. They seem to just want to remind people that they could be better people if they want. From the website:

The Foundation for a Better Life began as a simple idea to promote positive values. We believe that people are basically good and just need a reminder. And that the values we live by are worth more when we pass them on.

Hrm. Well. That’s neat. But there must be some other catch. Some hidden religious message or get me to support Santorum.

Are you affiliated with any religion or political view?

The Foundation for a Better Life is not affiliated with any religion or political view. We hope that the values we share transcend any religious, political or cultural orientations.

Fine. But it’s all some ploy to get me to give money to you.

Can I give The Foundation for a Better Life money?

We do not solicit nor accept any money.

What!? My money’s not even good enough for you? You bastards.

Hamilton's my middle name... JUST GIMME A DAMN DIET COKE!

So they aren’t pushing a product or converting me to Scientology or trying to get me to vote yes on goat sodomy. It’s clear that there is only one logical explanation. Alien takeover. They are trying to harvest us like cattle for our sweet succulent meat.

Gayliens.

I was having a talk with Geoff the Bear about this when we were in Vegas about religion and morality. Because when in Sin City we choose to discuss philosophy. Although if anyone finds me a bar near me where I can get $2 Crown and Cokes and I will philosophize the shit out of you. But I digress.

My thoughts on the matter (as I have said before) is that I’m not a giant fan of religion. But on the other hand, I do believe that being raised religious is part of the reason I have a good set of values to begin with. So I was lamenting the lack of a secular moral baseline like the church has. And to be fair, “morals” and “values” are a dangerous game. If you put the wrong people at the helm, you end up with children with a monstrous foundation for life.

I believe the children are our dystopian future

In a perfect world, parents should be passing down their values down to their children. But this doesn’t necessarily happen. Some parents clearly cannot be trusted to be in charge of their children (see above). Even great, well-meaning parents sometimes don’t have the time, energy, or skill to instill the values they want to in their kids. And between parents at work, kids at school, and a host of other distractions and problems a lot of what kids pick up for their moral compasses end up being environmental.

It’s pretty cool to see a group that is trying to make that environment a little friendlier. Little reminders in between your back to back episodes of Hoarders or on your bus stop that remind you to smile, to live your dreams, to say please and thank you, to volunteer, to be a mentor. Is it enough to change the world? Maybe not.

But it’s cool.

Pass It On.