Sunday, March 28, 2010

Pigmentation in Technicolour

You’re racist. No joke. You just simply are. If the words black, white, yellow, brown, nigger, spic, kyke (that’s not racist!), towel-head, chink, cracker, coon or Asian are in your vocabulary (don’t worry, they are now), you’re a racist. Congrats! All it means is that you’re an observant and judgemental person. Both are outstanding qualities that I enjoy in anyone. However, the line is drawn at discrimination; to exhibit prejudice from mere observation and to treat an individual as the generality of a whole is disgusting. It displays a level of arrogance even I’m uncomfortable with.

Now, we can all agree that language was invented by man. Every word (even God) is just a sonic representation of a thought, abstract and/or otherwise. Race is the representation of a judgemental thought, often it is misused as a discriminatory thought. Race is our creation; ergo, we can and must obliterate it. Think without race. Don’t worry. You can’t and that’s okay. It is too disconcerting. Why? You lose a major source of your own identity. You could never disassociate yourself from your heritage, culture or family history- after all, your entire life has developed based on fairly rigid social stigmas, most of which are racially biased. Relax, it is a terrible and terrifying thought, to say the least.

Still, you must consider the inadequacy of race; especially the dividing role it plays. Consider the white race, Caucasians if you will. A girl rooted in Southern France will bear little to no resemblance to a girl of Scandinavian origin. The term Caucasian is rendered meaningless, the span of the definition is too broad. Don’t get me started on blacks, or African Americans, or whatever those people are called these days. It’s insulting to shrink-wrap all of Mother Africa together. The land of the most diverse cultures, of the most inventive and wonderfully natural people, was labelled primitive (another great invention) because of the Caucasian man’s ignorance. He saw one colour instead of all the pure colours Africa truly possesses. They did the same thing with Asia, but I won’t be opening my eyes on that topic.

So, race is the invention that allowed the Caucasian man to divide what he thought was his world. It is really the only barrier left between people in the globalizing world. Borders have lost their meaning with the internet and prejudices are changing for the extreme. And since you assheads are already fucking up language, why not do something beneficial, too? Eliminate race and just forget about racism.

Now, the word God was made by man. I don’t think God calls himself God, that’s just pretentious. I mean, I would hope he can present a humble appearance; otherwise, I don’t even want to go to Heaven. Can you imagine? God being a total dick- just the most arrogant prick you could meet. Well, God is man-made. Probably made in China, you know, by Religion, Inc. Religion. I’m going to avoid a trip down this road, but just think about how your religion enforces racism. Shut up, I said think about it. God isn’t telepathic, unless the clumsy editors left that out of the Bible, too.

Sunday, March 21, 2010

Save the Testicles

Young men! Where have your nuts gone? I said,
Young Men! Where are those boys?

Alas, I must write about the sad demise of our once masculine-dominated society. It’s sad because it is an example of how easily emotions override logic. The masculine-dominated society employed a masculine-dominated language, we now know that as politically incorrect (turns out that’s a double negative, politics are always incorrect). The domination was set up to allow language to be specific, or exact, and direct. So if you’ve kept up so far, I don’t care much for the dominant male-monkey attitude; in fact, I rather despise it. I am totally and incurably for women’s liberation; unfortunately, that doesn’t change the fact that many women are raised to be subservient and dominated. Parenting fail.

Back to those young men!, through the power of language, men are getting pregnant and are also having kids! Did you get that, men, the people with penises, are having kids. It’s ridiculous. Where does it end? How about the subtle emasculation of language, i.e. personhole cover or the non-gender specific replacement for salesman, associate? No one seems to mind, but then no one seems to mind that “all right” has become “alright”. I suppose because “already” exists, it had to be America-fied and thus we have “alright”. Well done again, America. “LOL”

Seriously though, I am all for the feminist movement. I want them to move the hell away from me! They’re usually the ones I wouldn’t go near, anyway. Just kidding, ladies. I don’t particularly like “feminism” because it forces the identity of “masculinism” to be negative or oppressive. That’s unfair, dudettes; I mean, way to go, using illogical and unreasonable thinking to get your way, as usual. You girls are brilliant, and that’s why I admire you. You take on the masculine world and conquer it so slyly that you don’t even know that you’re doing it! It was inevitable though, it’s inherent in nature, Mother Earth says so, as it is in Mother Culture. Oooh Mama.

Sunday, March 14, 2010

God Save the Children

Time to refocus following a previous post, "The Despicable Age": The appropriate response for our youth is doubtlessly rebellion; Standing up against this confused and inane tradition that is known as western civilization. It's our fight against having life castrated.

Our youth continue to illustrate the rate at which we are losing our humanity. Often enough, the kid slitting his wrists is no different from the pacified* wonder-student who plays baseball and the alto saxophone when he isn't working for his "Jewish Carpenter Boss" trying to save the world from, essentially, himself. The American teenager is riddled with unnatural and debilitating pressures, mistakenly called "responsibilities." The home front often offers little support, not due to poor parenting or neglect but rather because it's uncharted territory. Developmental psychology is still on the rise and, simply, prior generations didn't give a damn about what the child thought or did; the concern was for what the child thought or did wrong. It appears that we have all forced each other into a game of "Ostracise the Nonconformist." And really, who wants to see their child ostracised. If you really take the time to understand why a teenager is rebellious and frustrated, you'll notice that we will always be rebellious and frustrated; we just become less of who we should've been.

The kid who shuts down and refuses to function is responding adequately. Especially within these concurrent generations, within my generation. Just imagine the stigma no-child-left-behind will leave on these tragic kids. We will be remembered for graduating on the "adjusted" honour roll. When the standards of education were dramatically and visibly lowered so that test scores and passing statistics could rise. Yet another unfortunate association of the Bush administration, I suppose. Though in all honesty and natural fairness, some kids ought to be left behind. They're not all winners, they can't be; we are bound to have some losers. Actually, we'll have a whole lotta losers and very few "winners". We need less of this unfocused and generic attention on children. We need more Darwin and That Devil Science (Great Christian rock group from Arkansas). We need to let nature take control; it will, inevitably.

*He just happens to be on attention deficit medication because, at one point in his useless existence, he displayed actual soul, real character and his parents couldn't handle it and presumed the world couldn't either.

Sunday, March 07, 2010

All I Got Was This Lousy Shirt

I saved Haiti. No, don’t thank me (I’ve already gotten a t-shirt). Thank the customers of Nordstrom; I gave all my tip money from a busy Friday- a good $12-16, easily. Anyway, as I was on my way to CafĂ© Luna, two high school girls approached me with cut soda bottles labelled SAVE HAITI. They asked if I wanted to help. I said, “Sure I’ll give it a shot.” ! Before I knew it, I was presented a t-shirt for saving Haiti and I was on my way to enjoy those delightful essse lattes. Hold your applause, please.

Don’t you think us westerners have displayed enough arrogance for the world to see? I mean, just look at those high school kids, toting the slogan “Save Haiti”. There were other kids collecting money out there for Kids with Cancer but their slogan was “Help Cancer Kids”. I sat confused in Cafe Luna; we really ought to Help Haiti and Save the Cancer Kids. If anything, the alliteration makes it way catchier. Another thing to mention about these kids who are begging on the streets is that they belong to a fairly affluent community. I thought that was interesting; rich, white kids who have no real perspective for what they’re really doing, bumming for change.

Shockingly enough, there are actual kids who are starving and need that money to survive right here in the United States. Then we also have the crack babies. It just seems like we have quite a predicament here already. The fact that the whole nation rallied to help a foreign nation before we’ve even considered helping our domestic neighbours says a lot about how patriotic the patriots really are. God Bless America, 'cause no one else will.

There needs to be less concern for other nations. I’m not saying we should not be a part of the globalizing world but we should retain our identity in this globalizing world. Instead of participating in meaningless wars and occupancies, allegiances and blockades, America should adjust its focus back to America (remember, like back in the good ol’ days). It just seems like something of concern to me to consider the amount of resources that are spent willingly outside of these borders when it could be of great benefit right here.

I suppose I have forgotten that the world belongs to China. We belong to China. Haiti now belongs to China; Haiti, thank China. I guess the only question that’s left is: Who does China belong to? Probably Jesus.

Saturday, March 06, 2010

The Blind, Deaf and Dumb Ages

Imagine the future, even a hundred years from now. Fine, I know you can't do it. It'll be amazing; everyone will win the lotto everyday except the lotto won't be a money awarding system it will be a game that allows you to live one more day. It will be a ploy to force people into enjoying and appreciating every day of their lives. My utopia. ANYWAY, I'm sure they'll have a damn near infinitesimal amount of archives of what went on during the txt & twat generations- as long as Dick Cheney doesn't eat them, I suppose.

Still, think about a history book in 2110. Consider our legacy, here. People will discover China and see that there were families, probably worse off than slaves, where children and mutilated parents alike were forced to spend all day in nigh-unbearable conditions only to have a bowl, one bowl, of rice for the whole family to eat so they go to bed hungry instead of starving in their walk-in closet sized room.

Our children will see who we really are. They will see we are the bullshitters and selfish assholes; the filth who abused this incredible planet and ruined so many perfect creations, gifts from nature were destroyed for man's feeble attempt at conquering. Man has yet to conquer his own life, but he has set out to dominate what is not his; the world.*

When the records are discussed and analyzed, our children will notice that when Haiti was demolished by the very force we so foolishly tried to overcome that the world provided relief for those victims; it was televised and publicized endlessly. The press got their hot date. While they were still smoking their cigarette, another quake struck the third world. Chile was devastated by an 8.8, then experienced multiple severe aftershocks. This event was categorized as one of the worst Earthquakes that Chile, or that part of the world really, has ever experienced. The quake reached Australia- that's the pretty much the span of the Pacific Ocean!!!

The world kept on smiling. It's really easy to feel good after you've just jerked off, right? (Still, there's that impending sense of shame and guilt)

Think about it, you're a terrible person. Sure, you can be nice, polite, respectful and whatever other word helps you sleep through the night, but when it comes down to our own standards, we are nothing but one huge, heaping pile of shit. And we're corrosive shit. Yeah, we reek that much. We ruin everything.

Fuck you.

*I urge all of you to pick up a copy of Ishmael by Daniel Quinn. It's about a talking Gorilla and it will change your life.

Friday, March 05, 2010

Whistlin' Past the Graveyard

Sunday morning came too soon. Before I knew it, my stuff was packed up and in my car, ready to go. I thought about the weekend so far: witnessing the most ridiculous missing persons case to smoking Hookah with Vlad, G and Will out in the cold, the freezing cold.

Once we were all pressed and dressed for the day ahead, we left G11 and strode over to the nearest dining hall.

After our hearty brunch, Vlad and I headed to my car so he could say goodbye to AriaBella. Back in Rafuse, we had Glenn join us in a few games of 8-ball, A short break later, the USA-Canada Olympic Hockey game was being completely ignored (by me, anyway) and we played our final game: Cutthroat.

About 10 or 15 or 45 minutes into the game, Vlad was eliminated. So I decide, after securing my place on the table, to manipulate the game to prolong the fun. You can call me Agra, Vi-Agra.

And then! During the game Glenn had mistakenly shot out of order. Clearly, Glenn had to be reprimanded for this action. Without hesitation, Vlad announces, "This is happening!" while grabbing one of Glenn's balls to throw it into the nearest pocket. Triumphantly roaring, "PUNISHED!!!" I was on the floor, trying to breathe because I couldn't stop laughing. I just couldn't stop as Glenn stood there motionless and Vlad remained fairly nonchalant for a moment about the whole ordeal. I would love to know what went on in Glenn's head at that very moment.

A few laughs later (courtesy of Arrested Development and Aziz Ansari), I said my goodbyes and headed out of Rafuse Hall. AriaBella was ready. It was the perfect resolution to a great weekend. The perfect cool-down.

After driving North for about 15 minutes (assholes fail continuously to add off- and on-ramps to the thruways here), I was on my way home. Somewhere through Pennsylvania I nearly doubled the state speed limit. Other than that, it was a gorgeous drive, especially given the company of John Coltrane's "Lush Life" and a Tom Waits' compilation.

I rolled into Millburn by about 8:50, a good 2 hours and 40 odd minutes of freedom.

Good night. Great weekend.

Wednesday, March 03, 2010

Mandatory Meetings

I was a little frustrated to see the microwave claimed it was not even 9, yet. Vlad and his dorm-mate Glenn were still asleep, as they should've been. As I should have been. I logged onto Vlad's laptop and read the news on the Chilean tragedies. Really makes me wonder how long it will take the western world to realize that instead of promoting prolonged life, they ought to promote the value of life and how easily it disappears. Be grateful to be- a great place to start is the Grateful Dead and the various accompanying accoutrement that go along with the flow-uh, show.

A few lazy hours later, after slipping in and out of sleep, Vlad was up and ready to eat. We headed over to procure our brunch with G and Glenn. I believe Jordan showed up, too. Later on, after losing 0-4 at 8-ball, we made our way over to a Chinese buffet place. Due to the incredible weather though, we had to dig Natascha (Vlad's Mazda 6) out of her icy fortress. Even after much digging, she just couldn't rock over the snow traps. I stood there watching these four college students (Vlad at the wheel with G, Glenn, and birthday-boy-Derek outside pushing) trying to move the car. Yes, I stood there and watched as they struggled to free the Mazda. After realizing these scholars were pushing the car downward into the snow traps, I ran back to the front (what?) to try pushing with an upwards force. In a matter of 4 or 5 heaves Natascha was free. If only I would try to cure cancer.

Four full stomach's later (Derek just happened to be outside at that time), we headed back to Rafuse as the select boys of G-street had a date with their RA. The meeting lasted a good hour. During which I thought about this blog, actually.

After a quick bout of Smash Bro's on CB's Wii, we uncorked the second bottle of champagne. A toast to Senor Derek.

Not long after, we were on our way to a Water Polo party where our choice of drinks was between Red and Green. Green tasted like the Hulk's ball-sweat while Red actually tasted more like kool-aid. Soon enough we were at Tom & Marty's, a bar co-dominated by Water Polo, Rugby and the Women's Chess teams. Blue moon in a mason jar. A beer tower of Yuengling. Much better than the Hulk's ball-sweat.

A bus ride back to campus and a short walk to sleep.

Monday, March 01, 2010

The Road to Higher Learning

It was about 10:30 when I flew onto the I-80. My Alfa was just about as warm as she was going to be for the drive up to Binghamton. This story almost begins like a typical disaster plot: it was speculated to be one of the worst storms in a dogs age and there I went, driving out into the abyss of winter in a featherweight rear-wheel driven convertible. I could see the ground becoming icier, still. The light traction on the steering caused by the wind had my heart fluttering momentarily. Another solid two hours of driving to go. By the time I hit New York, I had been spoiled by the frozen forest-lands that I saw through the strange haze of cascading snow. Everything was white; everything blurred into the shadows.

Immediately after parking my dear AriaBella for the night, Vlad and I both sat and appreciated what was about to transpire: our Binghamton Special.

My introduction to Rafuse Hall and it's inhabitants was in high spirits. Lemon-y spirits (followed by a series of fairly fortunate events), if I remember correctly. My memory is punctuated by the uncorking of Champagne bottle number one of the weekend. We had every reason to celebrate having no reason to celebrate. After deciding microwaved corndogs weren't enough to eat, we ventured to the Night Owl.

But first! We had to find a bubbler, which was unfortunately fated for a formidable demise. We never found the bubbler, but the cops did! After settling on a trusty glass bowl, we enjoyed two solid bowls. There is one item that deserves special attention; read carefully, so-you-don't-miss-a-thing. There were other kids visiting Binghamton that weekend, but one in particular, who also happened to stay in Rafuse, has given me one of the best stories ever. As he stood there smiling placidly and possibly interacting with his friends, he took the piece, placed the bowl in his mouth and proceeded to light the bit. Hang on, perhaps you don't understand. He put the flammable part in his mouth and tried to light the non-flammable part. After a quick laugh, we corrected him. Only to watch him try to set his lips on fire. Apparently, he was dead set on lighting the mouthpiece.*

On to the Night Owl: campus food.

Back to the dorm to pass out.

*Side note: next morning we wake up to find out that the cops are looking for this kid. That bubbler was in his car. Apparently, they forced him to smash his bubbler. Against a wall! Talk about police brutality. So yeah, they found him- completely amnestic of the prior night.

The Minute Observer Re-Presents

I find it extremely difficult to write anything for this blog without feeling even more pompously arrogant than I usually do. I try quite hard to keep my writing entertaining yet still poignant but I enjoy going off on tangents, which often enough are worth reading/hearing/understanding, yet I think I might be better off staying true and clear to the point. I was encouraged to create a more sophisticated blog, citing facts and sources. While I agree that this would allot me (and the cited articles) due credit, I don't really want that. Honestly, this is to be taken with a closed mind. Don't believe any of it.

This blog is about the thoughts that spew forth occasionally from the depths of my leather sole. This is entirely opinion. I could say it's all fact but that doesn't make it true. And the most insane thing is, I could be completely honest about it all. Anyway, it's up to you to investigate this world, with your own senses (I'll be writing about sensory experience soon!) and form your own thoughts. This blog is for your entertainment and mine, and perhaps also for their enlightenment depending on how progressed their minds are.

For the handful that have read so far, feel free to comment and leave suggestions. I would like my audience (that handful of you out there) to shape the blog somewhat, not entirely of course that's for Jesus and Xena to do - all night long. This blog will be my voice flailing across the internet, passed you, into the abyss and on drugs.