A guy I work with was telling me about a recent purchase: meat. I was thinking 'no big deal' right...it's just meat. So I asked what kind, he told me 'a ton of chicken and beef' and just gave me a stupid grin. I figured I would humor him, so I asked 'how much meat?' and he said 'three hundred pounds.' Seriously. He showed me the receipt. I know what you're thinking, disgusting right? It gets better, or worse, whatever. I asked how much, he said 'fifteen hundred dollars.' I asked 'did you just have fifteen hundred dollars lying around?' and he said 'no, I financed it.' 'You financed meat?' Yes, he financed meat. That's not country, that's not redneck...that's straight texan.
The state of advertising in America is appalling. Ads suck more every time I watch television. There is no accountability anymore; companies are settling into a belief that they can advertise however they want. Something must be done, so I've decided to bring consequence back to advertising, as it should be. I will reward good advertising by purchasing/using their products/services, and punish bad ads by not buying their crap. Of course, finances and practicality will limit my rewarding (those waving boat commercials are neat, but really, a boat?), but nothing will limit my punishmenting; this is America, there's an alternative to everything, and I'm ruthless.
Things I will buy more of: one. Beer. beer commercials are awesome, except budlight. They prohibited a website (http://budlight.whipnet.com/) from providing the "Real Men of Genius" sound clips. Any product that declines free advertising obviously doen't want my business. two. Fig Newtons. 'It's not a cookie, it's a newton'...advertising genius. three. http://nowwhat.com/en-us/. No idea what it is, but the commercials are pretty cool. four. Bowflex. Anything endorsed by Chuck Norris has a place in my life. five. Soccer. Always great advertising, no matter what it is. six. Foreign stuff. Honestly, foreign commercials are much better than ours. seven. Condoms. Foreign and domestic (but mostly foreign) condom commercials are hilarious. Always.
Crap I will never buy again. one. Budlight (see above). But if someone else buys it, then it's ok. Like being against hunting and eating Bambi (he's tasty). two. The CW, Lifetime, Oxygen. If the commericals are any indication, these are lame. three. Herpes Medication. Have you seen the 'I have herpes,' 'And I don't,' 'And we're trying to keep it that way' crap? Exactly. four. Tinactin. John Madden annoys me. Five. Cricket. I actually saw an ad for this. No joke. Six. Tickets to most movies. I'm tired of getting all excited for a new movie because the preview was awesome, and then finding out that all the good parts were in the preview. So if a preview is too good, I won't go see the movie (unless the preview was awesome).
That's all. I may throw out an update later. And why only six craps and seven awesomes? I'm trying to stay optimistic.
i was watching some old episodes of the Smurfs on DVD this evening, and realized that smurfette is the only smurf chick on the whole show. ...thinking what i'm thinking? ...sllllllUT. honestly, how else are smurfs supposed to go on living? yeah yeah, they are created not birthed (smurfette by gargamel (the women created by the bad dude as a distraction for the smurfs)) but what kind of message does that send to the kids?...what impression does that leave to be revisited later in life? all roads lead to whore...a little, once big-nosed (now somewhat respectable thanks to papa smurf), blue-skined blonde sexing up the dude smurfs. smurfsgusting.
when did they start putting hair and makeup on mannequins? they're freaky looking. back in the day when it was just torso, and then headless, that was fine. even when they went breathless mahoney style, i could handle that. but now they have real faces, and they're really watching your EVERY move. it's gross. and scary. what next? real hair? mechanical movement? voices? another reason never to go to the mall again.
but the terror doesn't stop there. at the next station or whatever, they don't have heads again. so you've got some that are damn near human, and then you walk around the corner and they're missing an appendage, or a head. like the mannequins do battle at night when people aren't around. if that's true, i guess i'll deal. but if the store managers are the ones screwing around...not freakin' cool.
i miss beanbags. beanbags were awesome...back in the day...pre-high school. you come home from school, a cold practice, anything, and just relax. you could read, nap, watch television on family nights...whatever...fireplace optional. now, kids don't respect the beanbag. they have stupid little chairs that you grow out of (cannot grow out of a beanbag) and even televisions in their room. and what of family nights? gone. ridiculous.
one. if necessity is the mother of invention, explain to me pom-poms...and the macarena. two. i like moonlight shadows (not my own of course). three. i always feel accomplished when i squirt the perfect amount of ketchup on my plate four. i would love to see a spelling bee, where the word is, say, banana, and when the contestant asks the judge to use it in a sentence, the judge says, "the word you have to spell is banana." five. don't suck (that's good advice, for anything)
I’m not the type of person who would ever want or need a butler, but if I did have one, I would name him Bronson. I don’t mean this as any manner of disrespect; I certainly wouldn’t have a man working for me, or possibly living in my house, whom I did not respect (or if they were creepy, and butlers kind of creep me out). Also, this is not a mark of ownership, he may work for me, but he doesn’t belong to me or have any other obligation towards me outside of our business arrangement. In naming him, it would not signify a subservient position; we would just be two people working our way through life, and butlery duties are not below any man. Butlering used to be a highly respected and even coveted position, much like bodyguarding of today. Somehow (through American slavery maybe?) servitude has been reduced to something slightly above low-level entertainer (like birthday clowns…I hate clowns) and just below pro bass fishermen. Regardless, he is, or would be, an employee, not a deed. However, unless his name was already Bronson (which would challenge my beliefs about fate), I would have to rename him.
I was thinking about miniature things today. Not like miniature golf, I mean miniature edible things. Actually, I was just thinking about food. And I wanted a moon pie (chocolate of course). I got there, and they didn’t have moon pies. Blasphemous I know. But I gave the attendant (see: register guy) a chance and asked if they might have any in the back. Well this man, Charles I believe, pointed out a display near the register, where stood, with a heavenly glow, mini moon pies. So I bought five, and they were amazing. But it got me thinking, what’s so much better about miniature version of this and other delicious foods.
Weeks later, I think I’ve figured it out. It’s the crust. The outer layer. Mini moon pies have more chocolate [or other] frosting, as a ratio of total ingredient glory, than their original sized cousins. They same way miniature meat loafs are way better than one regular sized meatloaf, more of the outer crusted up stuff (never had a miniature meat loaf? Try one, it’s fantastic). It’s all about the ratio.
Now you might say, “What about cupcakes? Cake is much better than cupcakes.” And I would agree, but think about the crust, or in this case, frosting. Cupcakes are top-frosted, whereas cakes are top-, side-, and sometimes middle-frosted. Cupcakes are not mini cakes, they are cupcakes. Now mini cakes…probably the most excellent food on earth.
Until recently, I was unaware of the terms ‘common era’ and ‘before the common era,’ or C.E. and B.C.E. I grew up with B.C. and A.D., meaning ‘before Christ’ and ‘anno domini’ (in the year of our Lord, not ‘after death,’ because we would miss recording the years of Christ’s life). The two sets of time demarcations are the same; they represent the same event—Christ’s birth and subsequent life (as usually follows a birth)—but the former terms do not explicitly recognize the life of Jesus Christ. They do, however, conform to the system that does. So although intentionally secular, the use of C.E. and B.C.E. is self-defeating; by attempting to ‘take the religion’ out of this historical marking system, they (the people who use these Christless terms) acknowledge the religious significance of B.C and A.D. Just like when secular or non-Christian religious people get upset over the words “under God” in our Pledge of Allegiance, “in God we trust” on our money, or the Ten Commandments displayed in courthouses and city centers; they concede religious value to material things, which, in the minds of some, validates the Christian claim. If, as some believe, there is no God, or Holy Trinity, or divine power of any kind, they would do better to ignore the Christian aspect of such things, because they are jut fueling the religious fire, and fighting a losing battle (here in a predominately Christian society, founded on Christian values). If someone rejects Christ as the son of God, and wants to refute His divinity, then treat B.C and A.D. not as the celebration of the birth of the Messiah, but as a convenient historical tool used to unify the many calendars of the Earth’s people.
My mind is alive with a thousand chattering voices, all mine. And as I walk through infinite corners that exist, but not in our tangible sense, I realize I don’t like my mirror image, or my shadow, and know that the two are connected, somehow. But what I like the most, is the quiet inside my mind, like silent letters dancing in rhymes, and the (satisfaction) of seeing my thoughts, alive, on paper.
We live in a society of self-expression, a continuation of the laments of a persecuted society. They fought back with the gift of speech, and through their words, a people were united, and a country was born. Through time, however, the concept of self-expression has been brutalized and mutated by ego and pride, into an addiction. The voice of our forefathers, the voice of reason, hope, change, is now simply, sadly, just the voice—an insatiable beast penetrating deeper into our society each day. And we pave the way. Pamphlets and books and magazines, radio (an entire spectrum) and satellite radio, telephones and cellphones and text messaging, television, The Internet and e-mailing and blogging…blogging…
We cannot all be heard all the time, or even some of the time, if some of the time is at the same time. If we all speak, no one is left to listen. Why are we not content with merely listening, hearing and not being heard? Everyone wants the spotlight, the mic, the podium. Our society is cursed with delusions of importance, of consequence, of substance, stemming from an egotistical desire for affirmation of …what? Being distinct, being special? The uncommonalities that signify the end of something and the beginning of another have us all searching for a voice in this world; for some way to proclaim our uniqueness. We celebrate our differences, believing that without them, we are insignificant; our society recognizes similarity as a stigma. And because of this, we have all convinced ourselves that whatever we have to say is infinitely more important than anything else being said, so we speak, sometimes just for the sake of speaking, afraid that silence will expose the truth without the deceptive blanket of words over our heads. But we fight silence like we fight solitude, neither embracing its retreat nor respecting its opposing harmony with the collective.
Some may claim to be that quiet savior our society so desperately needs. (Don’t be fooled, they are still vain, just sneaky. And don’t try to fool yourself, you will lose eventually.) They might appear to be listening, taking a breath, nodding along. In truth, they are lying to your face, feigning attention to your words, waiting for their turn to speak, and your turn to lie, creating a mystical fabrication of being heard. However, we are also impatient. ‘Waiting’ to be heard has a short life ahead. Soon, the wait will be over, and we will all speak together, separate but equal, voicing our opinions, thoughts, laments, and feelings. We will talk softly at first, but then louder, and louder, hoping to be heard over the roar that is the people of this earth shouting into space as if air itself had ears. But even screaming only adds to the sound of your neighbors, and theirs’ to yours, until, in mid-sentence, the collective voice shatters our ability to hear, and the world goes deaf.
And when again the world holds its breath, whether the next great tragedy or the next divine miracle, when the people have only tears to shed, our cries will go unnoticed, and we will realize that we have lost our ability to hear, and more importantly, the high of being heard. The withdrawal will create chaos—madness will replace reason. We will be a people punished by our own lust for individuality. Abusing speech will have lead to the destruction of hearing—the medium of reason—and the eventual destruction of humanity. And we will have only ourselves to blame.