|I'm so brain dead, a zombie would pass me up.
||[Feb. 6th, 2014|03:25 pm]
So, I’m leaving the grocery store, and as I’m walking by, two clerks are talking and one says says “…like being drunk, but only, more not really.” And I actually stood there, pretending to root around for my keys, because I needed to know “not-really what?” And then the other guy said “Oh, yeah, like that.” And it was hard not to turn, grab one of them and shake him, screaming “What the hell are you people TALKING about!” But I resisted. And now I’ve spent all day rolling that phrase around my head, trying different emphases…like being drunk, but only, more not really….like being drunk, but only, more not really….|
What the hell does that MEAN? To borrow a bit from Lewis Black: if I’m found dead in the next two days, it’s because I kept worrying and worrying over that fragment and finally it gave me an embolism. Sigh. If I’m going to drop dead from an embolism generated by trying to parse some strange phrase, I would really like to think it would be T.S. Eliot, Gertrude Stein or Stoppard or something challenging and literary. Not two grocery store clerks jawing on their smoke break.
You get what you deserve….
I think that social media and search engines have it all wrong. The way they're trying to grow revenue is bass-ackwards. Dear Facebook, I would happily pay you $10 a year to ensure that I never saw another post about all of the games that my friends play. I mean, good for them, I'm glad they're having a good time. But here are all of the expletives I give about what level they've reached in Bejeweled Blitz or how many puzzles they've completed or what their freaking horoscope is. I'd pay another couple of bucks if you would just tell me that it's someone's birthday and not bump them to the top of my feed every single time another person wishes them happy birthday. Hey, Google Chrome! For $5, give me one full year of making sure I never see the words "Miley Cyrus" again. Any time there's a headline or article or picture, just substitute a picture of a baby animal.
Dear people who are pissing and moaning that more folks are upset about Philip Seymour Hoffman's death from a drug overdose than they are upset about the kids that lost their lives overseas defending...whatever they're over there defending. Look, I know you already are under the impression that a couple of colder than usual weeks of winter are proof that global warming is BS. Because, you know, your local temporary weather conditions totally represent global conditions. Let's not even get into the difference between climate and weather...that global warming means climate change, not necessarily that YOU will be warmer, right there where you are.
So, I suppose it's pointless to explain that people "know" who PSH is, they know his face, they know his work, even if it's not a personal relationship. Whereas, they don't know that poor kid in Afghanistan. I dunno, maybe if we insisted that everyone being deployed got a full listing on IMDB, a full page bio in every major paper...maybe if we "knew" them, we'd fight harder to get them back, maybe not send them over there in the first place. But seriously, for the record, a lot of them are mourning the fact that they won't get product from him anymore -- no more movies. Others are mourning because they felt connected. It's really hard to mourn someone to whom you are in no way connected. It's a sad truth, but truth. Most of you doing the tsk-tsking? You're not mourning those kids, either, so why are you so superior?
I mean, I don't get it either -- I barely mourn individuals I know and love, much less someone that I've never met -- but not getting it is one thing. Disgust? Judgment? Shame? Look to your own house.