Theres a floating continent of crap in the Pacific Ocean. No joke, a floating continent of things all around you. I have a point I would like to raise about human behavior and product design.
Sustainability is not just stopping the scientifically indisputable warming of the earth, it is about taking ten steps back from the excessive redundant consumerism we're so committed to. I can't count how many times my mother used Styrofoam plates and utensils just so we wouldn't do the dishes. How many cell phones have you owned in the past five years? I've owned four. Broken things go in the trash, just buy another, its cheaper, right?
Well, not when you consider what the long term costs are. I always hear the same tired story about how families could only afford one television back in the day, and I should count my blessings we have six scattered through the house. Never, in my life, have I met a television repairman. When one TV breaks, you can buy another one. Same with most consumer electronics these days.
Nobody can deny the quality of the goods we buy is on a steady decline to save upfront costs, and some of the highest quality goods we own are from a bygone era. They sure don't make 'em like they used to is a sure-fire problem. Our goods can't add to this massive continent of shit in the ocean, and one way to do that is to make it to last for the long haul, and fix it when it breaks instead of tossing it. I can't remember who said it, but "the inability to recycle a good is a design flaw."
This brings me to a point that has a much larger impact than just sustainability, it's this computer I'm typing on. This puppy is about 4 years old now, anyone familiar with computers needs to ask themselves how much this machine is worth (P4HT @ 3Ghz, 1GB dual-channel DDR, two 80GB SATA drives in a raid array, Radeon 9800 128MB, 2xDVD-RW). Well, besides high-end gaming, what can't this machine do?
Moore's Law is typically balanced out by software complexities and graphic bloat, but how much longer must this continue? Thinking in perspective of anyone who owns computers (near everyone in this country), how many times to we feel the need to upgrade to get the latest bells and whistles? Why should people continuously upgrade their systems when a sizable majority of the population uses their computers for word processing, internet access, and media? Is it necessary? I'll ponder this more, and if anyone actually reads this blog post a comment on your thoughts for my entries, I would love some criticism.
Monday, December 31, 2007
Wednesday, October 10, 2007
Could the supporters of Ron Paul give birth to a much larger movement?
This is not a news blog, though this is a musing that should be shared with the blagosphere.
I've done what I can to spread the word about Ron Paul in Ithaca, NY. I've written his website on dollar bills, made fliers, espoused his view to friends, but despite what I've done, it may not be enough. Despite all of our collective effort to support the Ron Paul campaign and spread the message, his nomination chances are slim.
...but what if he wins the nomination? Better yet, what if he actually becomes the 44th President of the United States?
Well that won't be worth much at all! The media has already proven that they show no interest in giving Ron Paul the time of day. Is their opinion magically going to change when he enters office? Even worse, Republicans and Democrats will both work tirelessly in Congress to make his life hell, he would represent the first major challenge to the two-party system in over a century. Any measure he wants to implement he will try to do it lawfully, through a hostile Congress, with a media in opposition to his leadership. Good Luck changing the status quo. I wouldn't put it past that Congress to attempt an impeachment measure... if they could find anything on a man famous for his honesty.
If we are going to change the direction of government, we can't sit here and focus on the Executive branch exclusively... after all, there is supposed to be a balance of powers... right? Look at these statistics on Meetup.com, this is representative of the army of followers that Ron Paul has amassed. Look at the straw poll results nationwide, something is fomenting in America. Change can happen and it can happen in the 111th Congress.
I call on all Ron Paul supporters to take this energy and invest it in your local government and the Congress. Find out who your Congressman is... honestly, do you know? Find a Constitutionalist or Libertarian candidate to support now, and use the grassroots base already brought together by Ron Paul to your advantage. Can't find a candidate? You're smart enough, why don't you run? After all, your country needs you!
So what is the best outcome for all of us in the 2008 Election? A legitimate presence of a third party element that can make a real difference in the 111th Congress... and Ron Paul being the 44th U.S. President would be nice too.
I've done what I can to spread the word about Ron Paul in Ithaca, NY. I've written his website on dollar bills, made fliers, espoused his view to friends, but despite what I've done, it may not be enough. Despite all of our collective effort to support the Ron Paul campaign and spread the message, his nomination chances are slim.
...but what if he wins the nomination? Better yet, what if he actually becomes the 44th President of the United States?
Well that won't be worth much at all! The media has already proven that they show no interest in giving Ron Paul the time of day. Is their opinion magically going to change when he enters office? Even worse, Republicans and Democrats will both work tirelessly in Congress to make his life hell, he would represent the first major challenge to the two-party system in over a century. Any measure he wants to implement he will try to do it lawfully, through a hostile Congress, with a media in opposition to his leadership. Good Luck changing the status quo. I wouldn't put it past that Congress to attempt an impeachment measure... if they could find anything on a man famous for his honesty.
If we are going to change the direction of government, we can't sit here and focus on the Executive branch exclusively... after all, there is supposed to be a balance of powers... right? Look at these statistics on Meetup.com, this is representative of the army of followers that Ron Paul has amassed. Look at the straw poll results nationwide, something is fomenting in America. Change can happen and it can happen in the 111th Congress.
I call on all Ron Paul supporters to take this energy and invest it in your local government and the Congress. Find out who your Congressman is... honestly, do you know? Find a Constitutionalist or Libertarian candidate to support now, and use the grassroots base already brought together by Ron Paul to your advantage. Can't find a candidate? You're smart enough, why don't you run? After all, your country needs you!
So what is the best outcome for all of us in the 2008 Election? A legitimate presence of a third party element that can make a real difference in the 111th Congress... and Ron Paul being the 44th U.S. President would be nice too.
Monday, October 8, 2007
Great Conversations, Part II
There was a kegger at my house on Saturday, there were people there I've never met before, and will never see again. Kegs attract people with up to 5 degrees of separation from you. Here is a wonderful snippet of a conversation with one of those people.
Anonymous Blonde: "I just think that Billy Joel is the music of the world."
Me: "Wow. Interesting. What other kinds of music do you like?"
Anonymous Blonde: "Fall Out Boy"
Me: "... who are you and why are you here?"
Anonymous Blonde: "I'm Steve's friend"
Me: "Who's Steve?"
Anonymous Blonde: "I just think that Billy Joel is the music of the world."
Me: "Wow. Interesting. What other kinds of music do you like?"
Anonymous Blonde: "Fall Out Boy"
Me: "... who are you and why are you here?"
Anonymous Blonde: "I'm Steve's friend"
Me: "Who's Steve?"
Great Conversations, Part I
Friday had a huge gathering of alumni on campus. I was there to audition for a film, or at least I thought it was an audition... turned out that I already had the part. Since I'm a born scavenger, I wanted to see what free food I could score from the get-together upstairs. After all, Ithaca is constantly trying to shakedown alumni for money, and they have to treat them to something in return. In this case it was a wet bar.
Me: "Hi, I'll have a double whiskey on the rocks."
Bartender: "Are you 21?"
Me: "Oh god... I don't want to have to go through this, can I just get my drink?"
Bartender (Humored but on the precipice of anger): "Seriously, I need to see your ID."
Me: "I don't have an ID! The government won't give one to a 97 year old anomaly..."
Bartender: "Oh come on..."
Me: "You know I'm so sick of this shit. I'm class of '31. When I was young my mother dipped me in the river Styx by my ankle and now I've ceased to age. The government has refuses to acknowledge my existence since 1961, because I raise too many scientific, religious, and mythical questions..."
Bartender: "..."
Me: "Whatever, fine..."
I think if I actually walked away with a drink I would have been less satisfied.
Me: "Hi, I'll have a double whiskey on the rocks."
Bartender: "Are you 21?"
Me: "Oh god... I don't want to have to go through this, can I just get my drink?"
Bartender (Humored but on the precipice of anger): "Seriously, I need to see your ID."
Me: "I don't have an ID! The government won't give one to a 97 year old anomaly..."
Bartender: "Oh come on..."
Me: "You know I'm so sick of this shit. I'm class of '31. When I was young my mother dipped me in the river Styx by my ankle and now I've ceased to age. The government has refuses to acknowledge my existence since 1961, because I raise too many scientific, religious, and mythical questions..."
Bartender: "..."
Me: "Whatever, fine..."
I think if I actually walked away with a drink I would have been less satisfied.
Tuesday, October 2, 2007
I made somebody cry.
So last Saturday I threw a party. It began with Vince Guaraldi Trio, Spinach Dip, and candlelight. It ended with a stripper and Marilyn Manson. Go figure.
Many things happened, but despite the free lap dance, my favorite part of the night was making someone cry. A few fellows came by our house earlier that day to invite us to a party. We extended the same offer to them. Well, two of them showed around three in the morning. Somehow the conversation turned to the topic of America, and if you don't know what you are talking about, don't talk to me.
Well, his argument boiled down to this: You don't understand. Bad things are happening, you don't understand. America. Bad things. In America. Things.
It was banal, without substance, and uninformed. I tried to debate him, but he kept interrupting with empty verbal strands. I started pushing him around for some reason, and would have slapped him up if my house mate didn't stop me. Eventually I realized he was crying, I called him a little bitch.
His final words? I don't understand, man. Cue whimper and storm out. Maybe he was too drunk, but that's no excuse, I drink more whiskey than water.
Many things happened, but despite the free lap dance, my favorite part of the night was making someone cry. A few fellows came by our house earlier that day to invite us to a party. We extended the same offer to them. Well, two of them showed around three in the morning. Somehow the conversation turned to the topic of America, and if you don't know what you are talking about, don't talk to me.
Well, his argument boiled down to this: You don't understand. Bad things are happening, you don't understand. America. Bad things. In America. Things.
It was banal, without substance, and uninformed. I tried to debate him, but he kept interrupting with empty verbal strands. I started pushing him around for some reason, and would have slapped him up if my house mate didn't stop me. Eventually I realized he was crying, I called him a little bitch.
His final words? I don't understand, man. Cue whimper and storm out. Maybe he was too drunk, but that's no excuse, I drink more whiskey than water.
Tuesday, August 7, 2007
The Young Korean Drummer
My dear Korean friend Dan,
You could always become a professional drummer. Not in a matter of business cards and studio sessions, but a hard earned $25 to get an ad in the paper. Another 5 dollars and they put it in bold so it stands out from the other equally sized and bold columns. You write "A1 Drummer 4 Band Avail... call 8x927176." You can't write out your full number because you don't have the money for another line of text and you're trying to make it hard for creditors to find you. They will, eventually, but that's a story for another medium, your homicide case file. Eventually, after weeks of waiting and eating boiled shoes, you receive a call. It's from a fellow who insists that you call him "Deveraux," and he proclaims to you in a hardcore voice that indicates how HARD he has to say this:
"We need a drummer who can double-bass so hard he'll awaken the great satan!"
You spit at him in disgust, but a part of the boiled shoe you were eating comes out as well. Seeing a saliva-covered symbol of your monetary frustration at his feet, you reluctantly agree to double-bass the shit out of your drumset for "Deveraux"
You need to get some supplies from your parent's home, and you haven't been there since the huge fight. The one that got you kicked out in the first place, when you asked for an extra five dollars to give your newspaper ad some cheesy american-flag clipart in order to further grab the readers attention. You tell Deveraux to wait outside, he responds that he changed his name to "Goliath Gein." Your parents greet you in open arms, saying how much they missed you and how they're prepared to send you to a family friend who makes shoes. As his apprentice, you'll have a trade to learn and plenty to eat. The smile is wiped off your face and your appetite disappears when Dev... sorry, Goliath Gein bursts in hard and proclaims even harder: "Dan, do not falter and join me in awakening the Great Satan!"
Your parents are immediately appalled by Goliath Gein and you are out on the streets once more. Your father finds out where you were sleeping and breaks two of your fingers and rubs shoe polish on your favorite shirt, which happens to be your only shirt. As everyone knows, shoe polish rubbed on your favorite/only shirt is an old Korean way of saying "I have no son!"
You tour with SuperStalin (he changed his name in the bus ride back from your parents house) across 15 states, and you haven't been able to finish a single show due to your lack of shoes, working phalanges , and/or lack of a band that doesn't utterly utterly suck.
In a post-office located on indian burial grounds somewhere out west, you send a postcard to your parents saying that you aren't bringing the great satan to earth.... or hope not. Then you see a sign that says "WANTED: Pauly Shore for 27 shoe polish related murders. Has several aliases." Is it true? The picture does look stunningly like SuperStalin. Have you spent the last 6 months being ordered around, belittled, and sodomized by Pauly fucking Shore? You try not to come to terms with this, as it is too much for any one man to bear. You decide to call the police to collect the reward, and alas, SuperStalin was really just Pauly Shore. As the police haul him away, he says in a normal voice "Israel, I failed you!"
What meaning this has matters little to you, since you collected the million dollar reward for his capture. You get printed up in the paper as a hero, and your parents accept you as their son again. Your father never gave you the "shoe polish of disownership" after all! It was Pauly Shore the whole time.
You spend three weeks comfortably at home, sipping on imported beer and smoking pipe tobacco. The creditors found your name in the paper, and drag you off into the night never to be seen in less than 31 pieces ever again.
I hope you now know the dangers of professional musicianship.
Sincerely Yours,
Maximum Barkly
You could always become a professional drummer. Not in a matter of business cards and studio sessions, but a hard earned $25 to get an ad in the paper. Another 5 dollars and they put it in bold so it stands out from the other equally sized and bold columns. You write "A1 Drummer 4 Band Avail... call 8x927176." You can't write out your full number because you don't have the money for another line of text and you're trying to make it hard for creditors to find you. They will, eventually, but that's a story for another medium, your homicide case file. Eventually, after weeks of waiting and eating boiled shoes, you receive a call. It's from a fellow who insists that you call him "Deveraux," and he proclaims to you in a hardcore voice that indicates how HARD he has to say this:
"We need a drummer who can double-bass so hard he'll awaken the great satan!"
You spit at him in disgust, but a part of the boiled shoe you were eating comes out as well. Seeing a saliva-covered symbol of your monetary frustration at his feet, you reluctantly agree to double-bass the shit out of your drumset for "Deveraux"
You need to get some supplies from your parent's home, and you haven't been there since the huge fight. The one that got you kicked out in the first place, when you asked for an extra five dollars to give your newspaper ad some cheesy american-flag clipart in order to further grab the readers attention. You tell Deveraux to wait outside, he responds that he changed his name to "Goliath Gein." Your parents greet you in open arms, saying how much they missed you and how they're prepared to send you to a family friend who makes shoes. As his apprentice, you'll have a trade to learn and plenty to eat. The smile is wiped off your face and your appetite disappears when Dev... sorry, Goliath Gein bursts in hard and proclaims even harder: "Dan, do not falter and join me in awakening the Great Satan!"
Your parents are immediately appalled by Goliath Gein and you are out on the streets once more. Your father finds out where you were sleeping and breaks two of your fingers and rubs shoe polish on your favorite shirt, which happens to be your only shirt. As everyone knows, shoe polish rubbed on your favorite/only shirt is an old Korean way of saying "I have no son!"
You tour with SuperStalin (he changed his name in the bus ride back from your parents house) across 15 states, and you haven't been able to finish a single show due to your lack of shoes, working phalanges , and/or lack of a band that doesn't utterly utterly suck.
In a post-office located on indian burial grounds somewhere out west, you send a postcard to your parents saying that you aren't bringing the great satan to earth.... or hope not. Then you see a sign that says "WANTED: Pauly Shore for 27 shoe polish related murders. Has several aliases." Is it true? The picture does look stunningly like SuperStalin. Have you spent the last 6 months being ordered around, belittled, and sodomized by Pauly fucking Shore? You try not to come to terms with this, as it is too much for any one man to bear. You decide to call the police to collect the reward, and alas, SuperStalin was really just Pauly Shore. As the police haul him away, he says in a normal voice "Israel, I failed you!"
What meaning this has matters little to you, since you collected the million dollar reward for his capture. You get printed up in the paper as a hero, and your parents accept you as their son again. Your father never gave you the "shoe polish of disownership" after all! It was Pauly Shore the whole time.
You spend three weeks comfortably at home, sipping on imported beer and smoking pipe tobacco. The creditors found your name in the paper, and drag you off into the night never to be seen in less than 31 pieces ever again.
I hope you now know the dangers of professional musicianship.
Sincerely Yours,
Maximum Barkly
Monday, August 6, 2007
A Moment Between a King and his Jester
On one fateful blue moon, a superstitious King was looking to take his
mind off the bloodletting protection ritual he just performed, and called in his jester for a night of raucous entertainment.
The King claimed to all his foreign ambassadors that his jester was the best in all the land. Any marked dispute that rose from this boisterous claim quickly disappeared when the jester took the stage.
Tonight would be no different and this jester surely had a show lined up to please Kings with even less blood. After taking 12 pies to the face, slipping on 344 banana peels consecutively, and somehow kicking himself in the crotch, the King was in stitches on the floor. Yet tonight due to the King's altered physical and mental state, he crossed the invisible boundary between a noble and a professional jackass, and asked a question:
"Jester, you entertain me so, yet you look like you're in horrifying pain. Why do you degrade yourself for me?"
The Jester's reply was simple:
"Well King, have you left your castle lately? People sleep in their own shit out there. There are so many diseases that your medical counsel stopped assigning them latin names and instead just numbers. I've got the life in here. I have my bedpan's contents heaved out the window for me, the food is absolutely amazing, and best of all I get mad bitches."
mind off the bloodletting protection ritual he just performed, and called in his jester for a night of raucous entertainment.
The King claimed to all his foreign ambassadors that his jester was the best in all the land. Any marked dispute that rose from this boisterous claim quickly disappeared when the jester took the stage.
Tonight would be no different and this jester surely had a show lined up to please Kings with even less blood. After taking 12 pies to the face, slipping on 344 banana peels consecutively, and somehow kicking himself in the crotch, the King was in stitches on the floor. Yet tonight due to the King's altered physical and mental state, he crossed the invisible boundary between a noble and a professional jackass, and asked a question:
"Jester, you entertain me so, yet you look like you're in horrifying pain. Why do you degrade yourself for me?"
The Jester's reply was simple:
"Well King, have you left your castle lately? People sleep in their own shit out there. There are so many diseases that your medical counsel stopped assigning them latin names and instead just numbers. I've got the life in here. I have my bedpan's contents heaved out the window for me, the food is absolutely amazing, and best of all I get mad bitches."
Thursday, August 2, 2007
Where I woke up this morning.
Last night in a midst of anger and confusion Laura took me out for pizza and beer, I stayed at her place for the night in the empty bed alternate to hers and gently fell asleep to the family-oriented Fear and Loathing in Las Vegas. Nothing unusual occured, though for some reason every time the film was over it would start playing again, and every time Raoul Duke was going for a swim in the ocean with an American flag draped over his back, I was awake to watch it.
This happened about 4 times.
Once at 1:00 AM
Once at 2:58 AM
Once at 4:56 AM
Once at 6:54 AM
As I was implying, this happens more than you would think. I have found myself behind 8 kinds of toilet paper in 5 major department stores in 11 states. I was lucky that I woke up in the Wal-Mart in Ithaca. Once when I was 14 I went to sleep in NJ and woke up behind the Angel Soft in a Costco Warehouse outside of Phoenix, Arizona.
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