January 8, 2013
Blind People: The Enemies of the Urban Petite Bourgeois?
According to an article published by DNAinfo.com, a group of painfully self-important Manhattan residents are in the early stages of forming a loosely organized rabble of discontent. Equipped with an undeserved sense of entitlement and connected by a cavernous emotional labyrinth of invariable displeasure, the cognitively pathological rabble opposes the city's plan install audio signals that would help guide blind individuals as they cross busy and often dangerous intersections.
The ragtag syndicate of wealthy, Upper East Side troglodytes seem determined to derail the city's effort, which city planners hope will reduce blind people's risk of getting violently run over by the city's sociopathic motorists. Despite such benefits, the irrational, judgmental horde contends the menacing nuisance of a plan threatens to unjustifiably disrupt the posh, unnaturally serene inner city enclave.
"A spectre is haunting America's Urban Nouveau Rich -- the spectre of blind people," declared Joseph Waspy, the amorphous rabble's informal leader. "This burdensome ensemble of dependent wretches," he continued while shaking an enlarged photograph of elderly widows with cataracts, "are seeking to exploit our all too accommodating welfare society!"
Waspy, who fears the signals will interrupt his efforts to concentrate on achieving his lifelong goal of becoming the manifestation of putrid solipsism, defended the rabble's undeserved sense of entitlement at Community Board 8's public meeting last Wednesday. The meeting culminated in a lengthy Q & A session that lasted six hours, during which over a dozen amoral douchenozzles shamelessly regaled an obviously dismayed group of elected officials with a multitude of long-winded, meandering reasons for opposing the effort.
"I know blind people sometimes might need to cross the street," said one particularly loud contributor to the herd's cacophonous vocalization of discontent, "but their selfish unwillingness to stumble dangerously into an angry torrent of city traffic while trying to get from point A to point B should not get in the way of my vague, half-assed interest in pursuing pottery."
"Yeah!" another gesticulating windbag added quickly, "those low-pitched beeping noises are really going to interfere with my ability to cultivate an awkward relationship based on perfect silence with my already-estranged teenage son."
As the meeting came to a close, the future of the plan became increasingly uncertain, with several local officials repeatedly shaking their heads in disbelief. Meanwhile, disability rights activists, also disgusted with the whole scene, attempted to alleviate their headaches by sorrowfully resting their foreheads in the palms of their hands.
Steve Harrow, Assistant Professor of Political Science at NYU, was also saddened by the rabble's behavior, which he described as the result of an "astonishingly selfish inability to entertain a crucial requirement of any healthy civic society - empathy." Attempting to make some kind of meaning of the whole shitshow, Harrow speculated that the self-important horde's opposition to the plan may be "the most instructive example of how local democracy becomes destructive and useless whenever rich assholes spend their free time engaging in the public sphere."
December 18, 2012
The Internet Knows My Soul
Between the seemingly-poignant spam emails (the UN Security Council emailed me!) that I receive and the Facebook advertisements that glare at me while I troll the mundane daily lives of former classmates, I am convinced that the internet knows my soul.
Regularly, daily even, the virtual magical mystery machine we call the internet tries to sell me things. Things that I need, things that I cannot go without, things that will make me finally be able to embrace my soon-to-be-fulfilled American dream.
I have compiled some of these spot-on assumptions about my purchasing patterns made by the deep soul-scanning algorithms, not only to understand how the internet feels about me, but also to understand how I feel about me. There’s no better way to understand yourself than to ask a series of 1s and 0s about your likes and dislikes, your insecurities and fears, or your hopes and dreams. I would ask Siri, but she’s still pissed about me pressing the snooze button 6 times in a row this morning.
This is me, according to the internet:
· Huge on Hymenoplasty: Since moving to Montreal, Facebook’s algorithms have decided that I am a loose, single woman in need of a new and improved hymen. The ad is accompanied by a stock photo of a woman in a burqa, glaring at me with what I can only assume is a twisted combination of shame and contempt.
· Too Lax on Laxatives: In addition to a rejuvenated hymen, my bowels apparently could use a cleaning. Or I need to acquire a laxative-fueled eating disorder. This message isn’t too clear, but somehow laxatives have ended up on my weekly shopping list.
· Still Uses Western Union to Transfer Monies: Princes, Reverends, Secretaries-General, and Esquires from all corners of the world are sweetly convinced that the major banks of this world have not monopolized my ability to transfer money and that I still use Western Union. I believe this to be a judgment on my socioeconomic status of poverty, and am simultaneously offended and flattered that I am the one that they would wish to wire “secret funds” to.
While it is amazing that computers can correctly realize that I am a loose, single, and impoverished female, it is even more amazing how incorrect their assessment is of how I want to use my tiny income.
· HymeNOplasty: If I am loose, why spend time sewing myself up every time? Am I hoping that this one is THE one? Do I really want him to believe that no man has found me attractive enough to go to funkytown, or that I don’t have fingers, or that I’ve never ridden a horse? Can’t I just take a cue from Hollywood and use a ketchup packet for that virginal effect?
· Laxa-no: How will a constant stream of liquid poo make me more human? Can I not simply switch to a liquid diet, cutting out the middle man, and saving $13.49 a week? The satisfaction of a Type 3 or 4 on the Bristol Stool Scale is also being severely neglected.
· No no no: While I would love a stash of “secret funds” to be funneled into my ever-depleting bank account, the blatant disregard for English grammar rules in Sir Jon Goode’s letters to me makes me feel as though he is speaking down to me. Just because I’m poor doesn’t mean I’m stupid, it just means I have tons of student loan debt and nothing to show for my education. Except for English skills.
Laxatives and hymenoplasties don't mix,
zrox
October 12, 2012
Meditations on Media: Get Up In The Morning, But Only If You Have A Reason
"To wrap my arms around my amazing children!"- Melanie Gasque Wynkoop
- Melanie is clearly living vicariously through her children. Her morning embraces, which no doubt imbue her children with toxic feelings of noxious resentment, are clearly attempts to physiologically induce the meaningful human interactions that were deceitfully promised to her through the American dream and its constituent pathology, the hetero-normative family unit. When Melanie hugs her children, her grinning face is little more than a facade for an unrelenting loneliness, the constant awareness of her life's suffocating mountain of disappointments, primal anxieties regarding the inevitability of death, and the eternally returning mania that concerns itself exclusively with the cackling jeers of the shapeless, formless, motionless absence that is nothingness.
- Even though Nosheen claims her curiosities and desires to explore motivate her morning wake, Nosheen is deluding herself into thinking that she likes to "roll with the punches" of life, so to speak. Such a psychologically-induced fiction is, in fact, evidenced by Nosheen's very first reason for getting up in the morning - "Because I am alive." Obviously, Nosheen needs to reassure herself daily that she is indeed alive - that her nightly sleep was not the dreamless one of death - that she is breathing and feeling - and that she successfully conquered another nightly battle with the daemons of her unconscious mind. Only then can Nosheen start to calm herself down, encounter herself as an embodied subject, and rediscover her ability to make her extremities move in concert with her own will. But by then, it is time to go to bed again.
- Corey put a lot of thought into this response. He pondered long and hard about what to write down, and ultimately, Corey decided to be honest - he gets out of bed to see what's up with the world, an answer that Corey believed was capable of conveying how awesomely profound and simple he can be when he exerts all of the faculties of his mind. But what Corey mistakes for profound simplicity is in reality just Corey's inability to think...at all...and his inability to think of a reason to get out of bed beyond "I wanna see what the fuck the world is gonna do with me while I'm in it today" is case in point why Corey has no friends. You see, Corey's mind is tremendously dull, as is made clear by his decision to post anything at all, and everyday before he gets out of bed, his uncanny ability to just fucking constantly fail and fall into a steeping pile of his intellectual inadequacies gets the better of him.
"For my wife and five kids; I DON'T want to be an example of laziness." - Ian Bradley
And that concludes this installment of meditations on media. Hopefully you all have better reasons for getting up in the morning than these poor saps.
- Ian's life is rough. He has a wife, five kids, and he's definitely the family's only income-generator (sorry, honey, but capitalism doesn't consider all your hard work 'labor'). Ian likes to think that if he's lazy, he'll set a bad example for his kids. Ian likes to think that his 9 to 5 job and diligent work ethic are part and parcel of good fatherhood. But in reality, laziness is impossible for Ian. If Ian ever takes even just a ten minute afternoon nap, Ian's fragile, house of cards world will come crashing down on him. His family will starve, his home will go into foreclosure, and Capital One will repossess his masculinity. In short, an assemblage of breached obligations, shame, and disgrace will force him into his garage and persuade him to sit in his car with the windows open while carbon monoxide permeates his bloodstream. Ian can't not get up in the morning. Ian is fucking trapped.
And that concludes this installment of meditations on media. Hopefully you all have better reasons for getting up in the morning than these poor saps.
-D$
September 7, 2012
Netflix - Now More Worthless Than AOL
Netflix (noun): a formerly useful movie delivery service that has since become a categorically useless tool that feigns sophistication in a poorly-received effort to dupe subscribers into believing they have unique taste
What kind of movies do you like?
Are you interested in "Cerebral Business TV Documentaries"?
How about "Heartfelt Military Historical Documentaries"?
Perhaps you might enjoy a "Violent Suspenseful Psychological Movie"?
Maybe you're in the mood for a "Scary Revenge Thriller"?
These are just some of Netflix's verbosely meaningless sub-genres, which it uses to categorize and recommend movies to perpetually angry customers like myself. And every time I log into my account, I can't help but conclude that Netflix is now one of the internet's most frustratingly useless services to have ever latched onto the American bourgeois' obese, calloused teat of discretionary income.
For those who aren't familiar with Netflix, I will briefly explain. Rather than deliver its impressively large video library in a manner useful for those of us with an education exceeding 5th grade, Netflix takes all of those things we might love about a film - say, the actor's skill, the director's manipulation of perception, or the screenwriter's subtle character development - and then violently shoves them through a contorted, genre-based sausage-like algorythm that transforms the movie's complexities into an unambiguously simplified and repulsively obnoxious cow turd. The effect, analogically speaking, is that Netflix's entire library becomes coated in a generously-distributed layer of foul shit - a nearly impervious fecal barrier that functions only to proscribe you and all other non-douchebags from being happy subscribers.
Netflix's horribly contrived, semantically nightmarish recommendation process, then, reduces any and every movie into a clusterfuck of descriptors such as "heartfelt", "mind-bending", "psychological", "understated", "military historical", and "cerebral".
Thus, Netflix thinks that I'm into "Emotional Political 20th Century Period Pieces", "Exciting Conspiracy TV Shows", and "Cerebral Social & Cultural Documentaries," when in reality, I like to think that I'm interested in "Good Movies". Unfortunately, Netflix doesn't have a genre for those, so I guess I'll just have to sift through the shit until I find something palatable. Until then, I guess I'll check out what "Foreign Psychological Mind-bending Thrillers with a Strong Female Lead" has to offer.
-D$
August 25, 2012
Dear U.S. Army, Stick to Drone Attacks, Not Apostrophes
August 17, 2012
Purging Asians
Consisting of the two most rampantly racist sentences I have read so far in the one hour I have been awake, this captivating news story even out-racists itself. Behold, the first sentence.
The Bank of Canada purged the image of an Asian-looking woman from its new $100 banknotes after focus groups raised questions about her ethnicity.
I had assumed, wrongly, that the most racist part of this article was going to be that a (probably) super white Canadian focus group thought the woman on the banknote looked Asian, yet couldn't identify which type of Asian she was. Then, I thought to myself, wrongly again, that maybe that wasn't the most racist part. Maybe the most racist part was that after this cracker council decided the woman to be "some type of Asian" the racially sensitive (or insensitive?) government "purged" the image of the "some type of Asian" woman. I'm not sure if the government did not believe that the Asian woman accurately represented the ever-changing face of Canada or if they just couldn't tolerate praising unidentifiable Asian women on their currency. I will go ahead and assume that Canada has an overarching "no minorities allowed on currency" policy. This was only the most racist part until I read the second sentence.
The original image intended for the reverse of the plastic polymer banknotes, which began circulating last November, showed an Asian-looking woman scientist peering into a microscope.
BOOM! Stereotype of "Asian-looking woman scientist peering into a microscope" wins again! White people assuming all Asians look the same? Racist, but forgivable. Said white people removing general Asian face from Canadian banknote? Racist, but government backed. Allowing Asian-Canadians to bask in the glory of being represented on the $100 bill but only if they are photographed adding value to the Canadian economy by doing research? Pure, unadulterated racism.
Bask in that,
zrox
Source: http://www.theglobeandmail.com/news/national/image-of-asian-looking-woman-scrapped-from-new-100-bills-after-complaints/article4485307/
Bask in that,
zrox
Source: http://www.theglobeandmail.com/news/national/image-of-asian-looking-woman-scrapped-from-new-100-bills-after-complaints/article4485307/
August 16, 2012
Movie Goers Unite
When the latest Batman movie was released I went to go watch it at the movie theater. Although the movie wasn’t without some flaws, I still found it to be a very enjoyable experience. What I didn’t enjoy was getting bent over and fucked in the ass to have to watch it. You know who bent me over? AMC Theaters, and they and their competitors have been doing this to me for years. In the beginning it was a light ass smack, and then it became genital fondling; now it’s full on rape. Ticket prices these days are outrageous; the national average ticket price has increased from $5.39 to $7.93 from 2000 to 2011 respectively according to the National Association of Theater Owners. These figures amaze me, not because they are so high but because they are so unrealistically low. I haven’t paid less than $10 for a movie ticket since leaving Gainesville, a small college town. If you are living in an urban area, like the majority of Americans, you are going to be paying anywhere from $12 to $25 for a movie ticket. This is ridiculous. At the high end of the ticket pricing spectrum you could buy a movie on Blu-Ray and on the low end a DVD, this is assuming you are going alone.
Cazador
Although the ticket prices really frustrate me, it’s the concession stand prices that make me feel violated. I’m going to low ball the prices of the usual items and they are still going to seem ridiculous. Popcorn and soda costs around $5.00 a piece, add or subtract a $.25 for either small or large. So, that means if I want to go to the movies with a drink in hand and some popcorn to snack on it’s going to run me upwards of $20 on the low end, and upwards of $35 on the high end. As a single man I can rarely justify going to the movies and getting the drink and popcorn, so I rarely go to the movies. I can’t imagine how often a family man/woman could justify going to the movies with the kids. If a family of four goes to the movies these days, gets four drinks and shares two popcorns, they will be paying anywhere from $70 to $130.
I can draw two conclusions about what’s going on in the minds of the movie theater executives and distributors from my analysis of this pricing structure. Either they are complete assholes and are knowingly screwing people over, or they think there’s nothing wrong with their pricing model. If the second conclusion is true, then these executives are out of touch with reality and have no business running a company. A monkey could tell you that paying more than $20 to watch a movie is a rip off. And if the first is true, well we need to let them know that we don’t like getting screwed over any more by not going to the movies.
So, when I read articles talking about how people aren’t going to the movies as often anymore I can’t help but think that the answer to why that is happening is quite obvious. The pricing structure that the movie theaters are using is completely unreasonable and insulting. These prices are not set by supply and demand factors; they are controlled by an association of movie theater executives who have an oligopoly on the market. I would guess that if both ticket and concession prices were reduced by 50%, attendance and purchases would increase more than two fold and the movie theaters would make even more money. Until these prices are adjusted I will avoid going to the theater and encourage you to do the same.
Cazador
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