Saturday, February 19, 2005

Friday, February 18, 2005

Really needs no introduction and I'm not sure I could write one if I tried.

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Thursday, February 17, 2005

Oh and then there's Superman, Batman and Spiderman beating people up at a British burger stand in the wee hours of the morning. Neil Gaiman points out they are clearly frauds and you can tell by their bad boots. I add the obvious mixing of Universes.

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When I was in high school, a friend of mine said, "Wouldn't it be great if there was some building somewhere with a big sign that says `The Establishment' so you'd know to go piss on that building or vandalize it?"

For some reason this website brought that quote back to mind.

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Tuesday, February 15, 2005

Fun site on how we all act like a bunch of monkeys (possibly with good reason.)

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You've all heard about this by now, right? Just wanted to make sure. Pat and I were talking about this cover up yesterday and I wanted to make sure everyone knew about the cover up. Spread it loud, long and clear.

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Sunday, February 13, 2005


Another damned cybersermon by Reverend Paul Mathers

There’s a day this week that I’m sure many people will celebrate, but personally I probably won’t do anything different or special for it. My calendar tells me that on February 17th it’s Paris Hilton’s birthday.

I try and make my calendar interesting. I find all the historical birthdays and weird ass holidays (Love Your Robot Day, International Talk Like A Pirate Day) so it gets me looking at my calendar, so I don’t miss things. “Oh, tomorrow is Neal Cassady’s birthday and I’ve got to put clothes out on the curb for the cerebral palsy people” or “Rent’s almost due. It’s International Pancake Day” or “It’s Hugo Ball’s birthday. Time to donate platelets.” It works. Otherwise I’d never look at the damned thing and I’d miss important appointments.

I threw Paris Hilton’s birthday on there to be silly. I don’t have a television and I’ve never watched her show. I don’t think I’ve ever heard her speak. Yet somehow, through stumbling about each day in our society, I know the whole image she’s supposed to present. If any of you out there live under more of a rock than I do here’s the gimmick as I understand it. She’s an heiress to a vast, overpriced hotel fortune. Instead of doing any kind of good for anyone in the world, she parties, goes about publicly intoxicated, leaks sex tapes, insults small town people, and generally behaves like a swine. It’s fantastic. I know I’m not the first to make this blazingly obvious observation but The French would have beheaded her. We gave her a television show.
That’s the public image. The optimist in me likes to imagine that she’s not a real person at all. She’s somebody’s art project. She’s actually Susie Greenberg from San Francisco and she’s created this public image to hold a mirror up to our society to show people what they’re willing to applaud. Genius. Remember, this could be the case. None of us know her personally. The only evidence we have is highly manipulated pieces of film that could very easily be entirely false.
But I doubt it.
And on top of all of this, she’s become an image for a concept. No, it’s not love, or passion, or romance, or piety, or asceticism, or temperance. It’s probably decadence. Imagine that. Imagine someone being able to hold up a picture of you and the viewer understanding that they’re talking about decadence.

Saint Valentine was a 3rd century Catholic martyr. What on earth any of that has to with romantic love is beyond me. Scholars suggest that in Chaucer’s day there was a belief that birds are supposed to pair on the 14th of February. Already being the feast of Saint Valentine, the two were linked. Not too bad a concept to be linked to, but totally without any effort on the part of the martyr. And it’s not quite the same because if you hold up a picture of Saint Valentine, people don’t think about getting laid. They mainly think, “Who’s that?”
“You don’t know? Okay then, who is this?”
“Oh, that’s Paris Hilton.”

Leave it to the Catholics to turn the gruesome death of a church father into a day about romantic love. And leave it to the Protestants to bastardize and commercialize the holy crap out of the day.

I’m not currently engaged in any kind of mutual romantic love. It would be easy for me to be bitter about this. Usually I find when people are bitter about it they look like goobers when they finally find themselves in a mutual romantic love situation again. So I’m not going to talk about the selfish girl who wronged me in more ways than I can count.
I still have every reason to celebrate romantic love. I think it’s a fabulous concept and I think I should celebrate it every chance I get. This year I’m going to celebrate by watching my favorite Valentine’s Day movie. It’s called Carnival of Souls.
The real reason, aside for the purely functional one of making me look at my calendar each day, behind having a calendar full of holidays is because I simultaneously think holidays are very important and a crock.
Holidays are there to remind you of something.
Each morning I get up, usually far too early after having nightmares (possibly from watching Carnival of Souls before bed) and I go to the post office. Then I search the county for more inventory. I break up searching portions of the county over certain days. I used to then come back price inventory and put them online, but now I live in a house by myself and it’s expensive, so I spend the afternoon looking for a part time job and upload the inventory late into the night.

Harvey appears in my head with his boots up on his desk and playing Home on the Range on his harmonica.
“Why are you looking for a second job? Wasn’t the point of being self employed to avoid ever having to do that?”
“My business isn’t pulling in quite enough money.”
“Ah. Well then. Do better.”

He’s right, you know. But we’ve gone onto kind of a rabbit trail here. My point is that this is my day each day. Sunday’s are a little different because everywhere is closed (which is a whole other barrel of worms I won’t even go into here). But otherwise, that’s my life and that’s my day each and every day thank you very much. Doesn’t leave a lot of room for thinking about romantic love, or being thankful, or remembering two specific presidents neither of which were alive while I’ve been alive, or celebrating dark spiritualism, or celebrating Communism, or some vague concept of God’s love coupled with extreme avarice, or experiencing a series of strange rebirth rituals to indicate the end of winter. Holidays are there to show me that these are things that make up the human experience and were evolved over centuries to remind us what’s most important. I don’t see a “Dull, Workaday Rut” celebration. I don’t see a “My Life is For Sale to the Highest Bidder” day parade. We shouldn’t have to be reminded on these things, but we’ve agreed upon a culture where we all have to be reminded of these things. What’s that? You didn’t agree to a culture like this? Well, I suppose you’d better go out and start a revolution!
Every day is a holy day. The Discordians know this. They know that The Feast of Saint Norton, Emperor of the United States and Protector of Mexico isn’t the only day of the year to act like a gol durned lunatic. They know that every day is the day to act like a gol durned lunatic. We can learn a lot from the Discordians.
Almost every day on my calendar is a holiday. Even if it’s something as disturbing as “Paris Hilton’s Birthday.” I won’t be celebrating decadence and depravity this February 17th, but I guarantee you looking at my calendar that day will at least get me thinking about the concepts. I probably wouldn’t have thought about that on my own. It might be a good day to do some volunteer work or to make a donation to a charity.

I’ve been a lone wolf all of my life. But in spite of all that’s happened, I still have hope that some day I’ll find some borderline case who really loves me and to hold close and snuggle in what’s turning out to be a really cold night. Cripes! I should put a sweater on.

If you’re currently in love or not, I wish you all a happy Valentine’s Day with all that we humans have made of it. Regardless of where you are in life, I hope you find what you need to find. I also hope that on the next February 14th not a day of the year will have gone by that you didn’t find the holiness or perhaps that holiness didn’t invade your personal space.
And let me just state for the record that no matter who you are I’m sure there’s one way or another we can find to love one another. Unless you’re Paris Hilton. In which case I find it very hard to love you. I’d find it easier to love you if you wrote me a $100,000 grant to do nothing else but make shotgun art for the next four years.

Harvey pops up, puts his arm over my shoulder and says, “Now you’re using your head! Let’s go google and find an email address for the Hilton Corporation!”


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