Let it be known that at 8:46 pm on September 12 2013, the first draft of Saturnius Mons plopped into the world. Things haven't been right since.
Currently 90,363 words long across 27 Chapters.
Cheers!
Thursday, September 12, 2013
Monday, September 9, 2013
Amazon Abuse
There's an unwritten rule among the shopping peoples who lurk the pages of the 800lb gorilla known as Amazon.com.
For there are objects so expensive that only the wealthiest in the world could conceivably afford it and so bizarre that only the most eccentric-billionaire-stereotype among them would even consider it. For these things it is perfectly normal and accepted to leave hilarious and childish fake reviews.
I referenced the infamous Badonkadonk Tank above (The Donk!) here's another I ran into recently.
Yes for just... ... 210 million dollars (a 17% discount) you too can own. A magnet.
Whatever the origins of this ad, the people have come out in force with their 'personal experiences' with this device. Here were my favorites.
Daniel Haun, always the bargain hunter says:
I have been looking at this magnet for a while, but could no longer pass it up after the 17% discount. My personal space program will just have to wait.
I deducted two stars for ineffective packaging, as the UPS delivery driver could not get it loose from the side of his truck. They eventually had to just cut the side out of the truck. causing me to have to pay for repairs. On the upside, I now have a 1' by 1' square piece of UPS truck, which I use for a night stand.
Oh, also, when I set the box on my kitchen table, it pulled my fridge across the room, my car from my driveway, and the collar and tags from my neighbor's Cocker Spaniel. It compressed all of these into a Higgs Boson.
Recommended for serious hobbyists/particle physicists only.
TechnoLady 'Diane' summed up the world's problems with her review:
When they say "Only for 944WH" they really mean it! I bought it 13 years and a week ago (no 'Prime', Amazon- seriously!?) and tried to use it on my 944WG and accidentally created a magnetic time vortex that sucked me back into the year 2000. Unfortunately, while there,I sat on a butterfly and six months later Bush instead of Kerry is President, we're in a war with Iraq and half the country is unemployed. My bad.
So only two stars really because of time vortex but I'm giving it an additional star because of the killing I made on Apple.
Ms described his lady trouble with:
I was rather disconcerted that the magnet kept pulling my gentialia toward it , every girl who came to admire my magnet had their bits pulled toward the thing
Yote provides some chillingly useful advice:
I've been looking for a way to launder hundreds of millions of dollars in drug money, and this is perfect! Simply buy it, tell them you don't want it, and return it! Plus, it's Honeywell! Need them to duck out of that government contract so your company can swoop in? You're looking right at the magnetic key to solve your problems!
And, finally Nikon 1 accidentally ends the modern world as we know it:
After I was able to unpack this beauty, I made the mistake of taking it out in my backyard and pointing it at the sky. As I was looking around, I was suddenly knocked to the ground by a series of strong jolts. When I regained my vision I looked at the 944WH-M and saw that there were 6 communications satellites stuck to it!
My cell phone no longer worked, my neighbors were screaming about their cable TV being knocked off the air and cars were crashing into the neighborhood houses, with GPS units all reading "Recalculating Route."
For there are objects so expensive that only the wealthiest in the world could conceivably afford it and so bizarre that only the most eccentric-billionaire-stereotype among them would even consider it. For these things it is perfectly normal and accepted to leave hilarious and childish fake reviews.
I referenced the infamous Badonkadonk Tank above (The Donk!) here's another I ran into recently.
Honeywell Ademco 944WH-M Magnet Only for 944WH
Yes for just... ... 210 million dollars (a 17% discount) you too can own. A magnet.
Whatever the origins of this ad, the people have come out in force with their 'personal experiences' with this device. Here were my favorites.
Daniel Haun, always the bargain hunter says:
I have been looking at this magnet for a while, but could no longer pass it up after the 17% discount. My personal space program will just have to wait.
I deducted two stars for ineffective packaging, as the UPS delivery driver could not get it loose from the side of his truck. They eventually had to just cut the side out of the truck. causing me to have to pay for repairs. On the upside, I now have a 1' by 1' square piece of UPS truck, which I use for a night stand.
Oh, also, when I set the box on my kitchen table, it pulled my fridge across the room, my car from my driveway, and the collar and tags from my neighbor's Cocker Spaniel. It compressed all of these into a Higgs Boson.
Recommended for serious hobbyists/particle physicists only.
TechnoLady 'Diane' summed up the world's problems with her review:
When they say "Only for 944WH" they really mean it! I bought it 13 years and a week ago (no 'Prime', Amazon- seriously!?) and tried to use it on my 944WG and accidentally created a magnetic time vortex that sucked me back into the year 2000. Unfortunately, while there,I sat on a butterfly and six months later Bush instead of Kerry is President, we're in a war with Iraq and half the country is unemployed. My bad.
So only two stars really because of time vortex but I'm giving it an additional star because of the killing I made on Apple.
Ms described his lady trouble with:
I was rather disconcerted that the magnet kept pulling my gentialia toward it , every girl who came to admire my magnet had their bits pulled toward the thing
Yote provides some chillingly useful advice:
I've been looking for a way to launder hundreds of millions of dollars in drug money, and this is perfect! Simply buy it, tell them you don't want it, and return it! Plus, it's Honeywell! Need them to duck out of that government contract so your company can swoop in? You're looking right at the magnetic key to solve your problems!
And, finally Nikon 1 accidentally ends the modern world as we know it:
After I was able to unpack this beauty, I made the mistake of taking it out in my backyard and pointing it at the sky. As I was looking around, I was suddenly knocked to the ground by a series of strong jolts. When I regained my vision I looked at the 944WH-M and saw that there were 6 communications satellites stuck to it!
My cell phone no longer worked, my neighbors were screaming about their cable TV being knocked off the air and cars were crashing into the neighborhood houses, with GPS units all reading "Recalculating Route."
Tuesday, August 27, 2013
Five things I learned while writing the first draft of Saturnius Mons
This is a piece written for the monthly newsletter of the Dreaming in Ink Writing Workshop. For more information including details of how to join visit www.dreaminginink.com.
Tavern at the Crossroads: September 2013
Five things I learned while writing the first draft of Saturnius Mons.
To be fair, as I write this, the first draft isn’t done yet. I have four chapters left to beat in submission, but screw it, I wanted to write about it anyway. It seems current now whereas next month, with any luck, I’ll be either working on the outline to the next book in this series, or taking a much needed break from word-smithing to let my neurons calm down and start talking to each other again.
So here it is, a little premature, but a few things I learned about myself and my process during this phase of the project. Hopefully there is something useful in these inane scribbling that you might apply to your own writing, or at least illicits a giggle or two.
Yes, outlining is a great roadmap:
I’m ashamed to say that this was the first project that I took the time to fully outline. From beginning to end, every chapter, every scene, everything I could conceivably plan out, was written down organized and it drove me flippin nuts. Most of the time, it felt like I turned navel gazing into an extreme sport. No words were being written… well no words that any other human was going to see at any rate. Plus it was just going to change anyway when I started writing, so why bother? Months flipped by on the calendar. Months that could have been spent actually putting words on paper.
But I kept at it and I am so glad I did. The outline took three months, but it probably saved me six months of frustrating re-writes, dead ends, writing in circles, rampant alcoholism and yelling at invisible enemies… etc. I used my outline every step of the first draft and it proved to be an invaluable tool to remind myself where the bloody hell I was taking this ride.
…but you’re still a maniac who’s going to weave down side-streets to see the worlds biggest ball of paint:
A younger, stupider me worried that an outline would restrict my creativity. It didn’t. Not at all. Nope. Nothing. Every once in a while I came to a new scene, looked at my outline and said, “Nope, I don’t like that idea. Screw you, Past Jeremy. I don’t have to listen to you. YOU’RE NOT MY DADDY!” and hilarity ensued. There’s no controlling that, there’s no planning for it and that’s a good thing. I kept the creative process spontaneous and free. The only difference was the aforementioned roadmap. I could get back on the highway and away from the gentle plucking of banjo strings…
Characters that evolve from…. bobble-heads?:
For reasons that completely escape my brain in the zero draft of this story my characters were constantly shaking or nodding their heads. Like every other sentence. I’m not kidding, it was weird. My best guess right now is that it was my brain’s place holder for all non-verbal communication.
Nodding their head means they are generally happy with the situation, big smiley face!
Shaking means they don’t like this situation, grrr frowny face!
Recognizing that and forcing myself to thing, really, really think about what the character wants or do led to more pithy dialog, I feel. Huge swaths of useless back-and-forth were cut down in the first rewrite and I think the whole story feels leaner for the loss of it. I’d like to thing (although I have no proof) that it created more three-dimensional characters, but I suppose that opinion is not up to me. Not yet anyway.
If something doesn’t feel right… it probably isn’t:
When I first started this draft, I had a couple of chapters where the characters hike into a mountain range of cryovolcanos in search of the missing civilization. Even while I was writing it, something about it felt off. The characters felt awkward, the action didn’t flow, every sentence was like yanking on my toenails. When I went back to really look at that section I realized that I pulled my characters away from the story instead of deeper into it. I wiped the slate clean and started a new outline for that section. The new outline begat a new middle to the book, a middle that keeps the plot moving forward. A middle that seems to fit the rest of the book.
As always, the first draft always, always sucks… always:
This is a lesson that I keep learning time and time again. I don’t know why I have such a hard time making myself believe it. Or, more importantly, making myself believe that it’s okay. Yes, it sucks now. It’s suppose to suck now. It is going to get better. The first draft was better then the words I threw down on paper to begin with. And when I come back to this in a few months for the big second draft, it will get even better. If (or when) I decide it needs a third draft, that will make it even better and so on and so forth. It’s a process. A long, painful, frustrating process. In the great race of novel writing, I’m still at the starting line listening to the echo of the starters pistol. Six months into this project… nine counting the months I spent working on the characters and the outline, and I’ve still just begun. On one hand, it’s disheartening. On the other… well motivating isn’t the right word. More like obligated. For better or worse, I brought this screaming, howling word-baby into the world. A lot of work has gone into it already, so I might as well take it as far as needed and hope to the gods that the little bastard doesn’t end up living in my basement until he’s 40.
Five things I learned while writing the first draft of Saturnius Mons.
To be fair, as I write this, the first draft isn’t done yet. I have four chapters left to beat in submission, but screw it, I wanted to write about it anyway. It seems current now whereas next month, with any luck, I’ll be either working on the outline to the next book in this series, or taking a much needed break from word-smithing to let my neurons calm down and start talking to each other again.
So here it is, a little premature, but a few things I learned about myself and my process during this phase of the project. Hopefully there is something useful in these inane scribbling that you might apply to your own writing, or at least illicits a giggle or two.
Yes, outlining is a great roadmap:
I’m ashamed to say that this was the first project that I took the time to fully outline. From beginning to end, every chapter, every scene, everything I could conceivably plan out, was written down organized and it drove me flippin nuts. Most of the time, it felt like I turned navel gazing into an extreme sport. No words were being written… well no words that any other human was going to see at any rate. Plus it was just going to change anyway when I started writing, so why bother? Months flipped by on the calendar. Months that could have been spent actually putting words on paper.
But I kept at it and I am so glad I did. The outline took three months, but it probably saved me six months of frustrating re-writes, dead ends, writing in circles, rampant alcoholism and yelling at invisible enemies… etc. I used my outline every step of the first draft and it proved to be an invaluable tool to remind myself where the bloody hell I was taking this ride.
…but you’re still a maniac who’s going to weave down side-streets to see the worlds biggest ball of paint:
A younger, stupider me worried that an outline would restrict my creativity. It didn’t. Not at all. Nope. Nothing. Every once in a while I came to a new scene, looked at my outline and said, “Nope, I don’t like that idea. Screw you, Past Jeremy. I don’t have to listen to you. YOU’RE NOT MY DADDY!” and hilarity ensued. There’s no controlling that, there’s no planning for it and that’s a good thing. I kept the creative process spontaneous and free. The only difference was the aforementioned roadmap. I could get back on the highway and away from the gentle plucking of banjo strings…
Characters that evolve from…. bobble-heads?:
For reasons that completely escape my brain in the zero draft of this story my characters were constantly shaking or nodding their heads. Like every other sentence. I’m not kidding, it was weird. My best guess right now is that it was my brain’s place holder for all non-verbal communication.
Nodding their head means they are generally happy with the situation, big smiley face!
Shaking means they don’t like this situation, grrr frowny face!
Recognizing that and forcing myself to thing, really, really think about what the character wants or do led to more pithy dialog, I feel. Huge swaths of useless back-and-forth were cut down in the first rewrite and I think the whole story feels leaner for the loss of it. I’d like to thing (although I have no proof) that it created more three-dimensional characters, but I suppose that opinion is not up to me. Not yet anyway.
If something doesn’t feel right… it probably isn’t:
When I first started this draft, I had a couple of chapters where the characters hike into a mountain range of cryovolcanos in search of the missing civilization. Even while I was writing it, something about it felt off. The characters felt awkward, the action didn’t flow, every sentence was like yanking on my toenails. When I went back to really look at that section I realized that I pulled my characters away from the story instead of deeper into it. I wiped the slate clean and started a new outline for that section. The new outline begat a new middle to the book, a middle that keeps the plot moving forward. A middle that seems to fit the rest of the book.
As always, the first draft always, always sucks… always:
This is a lesson that I keep learning time and time again. I don’t know why I have such a hard time making myself believe it. Or, more importantly, making myself believe that it’s okay. Yes, it sucks now. It’s suppose to suck now. It is going to get better. The first draft was better then the words I threw down on paper to begin with. And when I come back to this in a few months for the big second draft, it will get even better. If (or when) I decide it needs a third draft, that will make it even better and so on and so forth. It’s a process. A long, painful, frustrating process. In the great race of novel writing, I’m still at the starting line listening to the echo of the starters pistol. Six months into this project… nine counting the months I spent working on the characters and the outline, and I’ve still just begun. On one hand, it’s disheartening. On the other… well motivating isn’t the right word. More like obligated. For better or worse, I brought this screaming, howling word-baby into the world. A lot of work has gone into it already, so I might as well take it as far as needed and hope to the gods that the little bastard doesn’t end up living in my basement until he’s 40.
Sunday, August 11, 2013
Stupidity in Action
Dear Todd Archer: Fuck you.
Love Jeremy.
Wednesday, July 3, 2013
Eat it.... Eat it all you fucker.
Okay, so a little game of mine is to start typing a phrase and see what the most searched terms on Google turn out to be.
For example, for some reason I decided to type in 'man eats nothing but...' and see what the most searched last word is.
Man eats nothing but...
#4: Big Macs
So apparently there is a man who lives on nothing but Big Macs... mostly. He says there has only been eight days of his life that he has not eaten a Big Mac including times that he was traveling and couldn't find a MacDonalds, which... where the figgity fuck was he traveling? Antartica? I think there's only a couple hundred MacDonald's there at the moment, but they are trying to expland into the penguin market. Currently they are being outdone by Starbucks. Motherfucking penguins love them some Starbucks.
Looking over the list of sites about this Don Gorske, one website proclaimed him, "America's saddest man." Which... fuck you. The man requires one thing in this world. A Big Mac. While the rest of us chase money, fame, cars, sex or whatever, this man needs a burger. That's it.
Sounds like the happiest motherfucker to me.
#3: Potatoes
To prove the awsomness of potatoes, a Washington man ate nothing but them for three months. Somewhere in Ireland, an old man wept.
#2: MacDonalds:
Okay, so Supersize Me was bound to come up. I remember watching it a few years back and.... fuck that guy.
I mean it's kinda cool that film still has the ability to create changes in the critical fold anymore and the influence of this movie can't be understated. But seriously? Nobody was claiming that any type of fast food was healthy. At all. There was no guy who looked at the greasy burger in his hand, a look of horror slowly crawling across face face, before flinging it across the room pointing at it and yelling, "Murderer! Murderer! How could you cross me, Big Mac! How... How could you!!"
It's called freedom of choice. Enjoy it. The way these corporate bastards are going it might be the only freedom left to us.
#1 Ramen:
What. The. Fuck?
Okay so an eighteen-year-old girl has eaten nothing but Ramen for the past thirteen years. I was unaware a human could live on Ramen alone for more then a month.
Ramen, as it is known in this country, is basically salt and carbohydrates. That's it. It's designed to help stop the pangs of hunger and provide just enough energy to keep from collapsing, all for 50 cents. It is something people buy when they have no money. That's it's job.
According to doctors she has the health of an 80-year-old. All for eating a food normally reserved for broke-ass 22-year-olds.
For example, for some reason I decided to type in 'man eats nothing but...' and see what the most searched last word is.
Man eats nothing but...
#4: Big Macs
So apparently there is a man who lives on nothing but Big Macs... mostly. He says there has only been eight days of his life that he has not eaten a Big Mac including times that he was traveling and couldn't find a MacDonalds, which... where the figgity fuck was he traveling? Antartica? I think there's only a couple hundred MacDonald's there at the moment, but they are trying to expland into the penguin market. Currently they are being outdone by Starbucks. Motherfucking penguins love them some Starbucks.
Looking over the list of sites about this Don Gorske, one website proclaimed him, "America's saddest man." Which... fuck you. The man requires one thing in this world. A Big Mac. While the rest of us chase money, fame, cars, sex or whatever, this man needs a burger. That's it.
Sounds like the happiest motherfucker to me.
#3: Potatoes
To prove the awsomness of potatoes, a Washington man ate nothing but them for three months. Somewhere in Ireland, an old man wept.
#2: MacDonalds:
Okay, so Supersize Me was bound to come up. I remember watching it a few years back and.... fuck that guy.
I mean it's kinda cool that film still has the ability to create changes in the critical fold anymore and the influence of this movie can't be understated. But seriously? Nobody was claiming that any type of fast food was healthy. At all. There was no guy who looked at the greasy burger in his hand, a look of horror slowly crawling across face face, before flinging it across the room pointing at it and yelling, "Murderer! Murderer! How could you cross me, Big Mac! How... How could you!!"
It's called freedom of choice. Enjoy it. The way these corporate bastards are going it might be the only freedom left to us.
#1 Ramen:
What. The. Fuck?
Okay so an eighteen-year-old girl has eaten nothing but Ramen for the past thirteen years. I was unaware a human could live on Ramen alone for more then a month.
Ramen, as it is known in this country, is basically salt and carbohydrates. That's it. It's designed to help stop the pangs of hunger and provide just enough energy to keep from collapsing, all for 50 cents. It is something people buy when they have no money. That's it's job.
According to doctors she has the health of an 80-year-old. All for eating a food normally reserved for broke-ass 22-year-olds.
Friday, May 3, 2013
The Edge.
I found this story a few days ago and loved the hell out of it. PepsiCo hired Tyler the Creator to do an ad for Mountain Dew and the backlash was immediate. People called it 'racist' and said that it 'made light of violence towards women' and both are probably true. That's not what I loved about it. What I really loved about it was the fact that PepsiCo got their hand bitten.
PepsiCo pulled the ad about thirty seconds after people pitched a fit, but thanks to the magic of the Internet, their little snaffu will be available forever and ever.
[EDIT]But apparently they are trying their damnedest. Linked to one video that was already taken down at the demand of PepsiCo. So that's.... adorable PepsiCo.
It's included here, click it and watch it. It's weird, yes. It's fucking stupid. It's borderline racist, sure.
But what is PepsiCo actually guilty of? I don't think they set out to make a racist commercial, but it does expose the real racism at the corporate level.
It also shows, and we already knew this to be true but it's nice to have it confirmed, that they just don't have a fucking clue.
So what happened? PepsiCo wants an ad that will be 'edgy' and 'real' perhaps 'extreme' and other dumbass adjectives that mean nothing. They want to give their citrus-flavored, piss colored, sugar water some 'street cred.'
It's what they do afterall. For reasons that escape me, they seem to be marketing Mountain Dew as a beverage you have while lighting your pants on fire and jumping off a skyscraper to improvise a safe landing. This ignores the REAL Mountain Dew purists out there, I feel. The True Believers in the Dew are men who's idea of 'extreme' consists of brushing stray cheese-doodle crumbs off their stomach. Those are the real Mountain Dew fans. Let's just face that right the fuck now.
But they don't want that image. Okay. So they hire some guy named Tyler the Creator to do an ad for them. I don't know much about him, but I feel like I can say without fear of contradiction, that the man is a bit of a loose cannon.
But, hey, you want something 'real', 'edgy' with 'street cred', that's probably a good man to go see. Or it's certainly a man to go see.
So he comes back with this. Here is PepsiCo's first sin, the real racism. If they had anybody but fat, white old men running that thing, if they had one or two black people who they listen to (don't forget that crucial piece of the puzzle. They can't just have a couple of people who give their corporate photo a bit of color on the edges. They have to actually listen to words coming out of their mouth) then they would have taken one look at this, arched an eyebrow, said "Have you lost your damn mind?" and that would have been the end of it.
Hell, if they had one woman there WHO THEY LISTEN TO they would have watched an ad about a waitress who gets the shit kicked out of her for laughs, turned to the guys in charge and said, "
You fucking crazy if you think you're going to air that!"
They don't have either. That's what this ad says to me. All they have is a bunch of old, fat white men who gathered around and heartily approved. A black guy made it, afterall, it can't be racist, could it? They may have even liked it since it confirmed what they think they know about black people. They slapped themselves on the back saying that, this is just what those kids today want! Those crazy kids with their baggy pants and their rap music and pac man videogames... damn kids don't respect anything anymore.
Their other sin: You want to be extreme? You wanna be edgy? (Without the quotation marks?)
No you don't PepsiCo. You want to sell sugar water and make a shitload of money doing it. Tyler the Creator... I'm guessing he's a bit of a maniac. He's a little out there and his world is not something you really want to put your corporate label on. And he probably doesn't give two shits whether or not people like him. He probably thinks that it's handy; it's quite useful that people like him, it means he gets to make a lot of money doing what he does. But chances are he'd be doing the same thing regardless.
PepsiCo, you wanna come out where we live and stay awhile out where the real winds blow? You wanna hawk your sewage in a bottle in a place where identity is nothing more then what brand of insanity you choose to put forth today? Where people see humanity for the violent, evil, drunken monkeys that we really are?
I didn't think so.
If you want that image, your CEO would have to stand out front, point to the ad and yell, "Fuck yeah we made that! We love it! Drink Mountain Dew bitches!!"
A lot of people would stop drinking Mountain Dew. A lot of people would develop the kind of brand loyalty that would make an ad designer cum in his pants. But they wouldn't do that, of course they wouldn't.
I realize that I basically saying that Corporate America is nothing but a bunch of soulless, greedy fuckwads which is basically like saying 'the sky is blue'
It's still nice, every once in a while, to look up and take comfort in the few constants in this world.
It's included here, click it and watch it. It's weird, yes. It's fucking stupid. It's borderline racist, sure.
But what is PepsiCo actually guilty of? I don't think they set out to make a racist commercial, but it does expose the real racism at the corporate level.
It also shows, and we already knew this to be true but it's nice to have it confirmed, that they just don't have a fucking clue.
So what happened? PepsiCo wants an ad that will be 'edgy' and 'real' perhaps 'extreme' and other dumbass adjectives that mean nothing. They want to give their citrus-flavored, piss colored, sugar water some 'street cred.'
It's what they do afterall. For reasons that escape me, they seem to be marketing Mountain Dew as a beverage you have while lighting your pants on fire and jumping off a skyscraper to improvise a safe landing. This ignores the REAL Mountain Dew purists out there, I feel. The True Believers in the Dew are men who's idea of 'extreme' consists of brushing stray cheese-doodle crumbs off their stomach. Those are the real Mountain Dew fans. Let's just face that right the fuck now.
But they don't want that image. Okay. So they hire some guy named Tyler the Creator to do an ad for them. I don't know much about him, but I feel like I can say without fear of contradiction, that the man is a bit of a loose cannon.
But, hey, you want something 'real', 'edgy' with 'street cred', that's probably a good man to go see. Or it's certainly a man to go see.
So he comes back with this. Here is PepsiCo's first sin, the real racism. If they had anybody but fat, white old men running that thing, if they had one or two black people who they listen to (don't forget that crucial piece of the puzzle. They can't just have a couple of people who give their corporate photo a bit of color on the edges. They have to actually listen to words coming out of their mouth) then they would have taken one look at this, arched an eyebrow, said "Have you lost your damn mind?" and that would have been the end of it.
Hell, if they had one woman there WHO THEY LISTEN TO they would have watched an ad about a waitress who gets the shit kicked out of her for laughs, turned to the guys in charge and said, "
You fucking crazy if you think you're going to air that!"
They don't have either. That's what this ad says to me. All they have is a bunch of old, fat white men who gathered around and heartily approved. A black guy made it, afterall, it can't be racist, could it? They may have even liked it since it confirmed what they think they know about black people. They slapped themselves on the back saying that, this is just what those kids today want! Those crazy kids with their baggy pants and their rap music and pac man videogames... damn kids don't respect anything anymore.
Their other sin: You want to be extreme? You wanna be edgy? (Without the quotation marks?)
No you don't PepsiCo. You want to sell sugar water and make a shitload of money doing it. Tyler the Creator... I'm guessing he's a bit of a maniac. He's a little out there and his world is not something you really want to put your corporate label on. And he probably doesn't give two shits whether or not people like him. He probably thinks that it's handy; it's quite useful that people like him, it means he gets to make a lot of money doing what he does. But chances are he'd be doing the same thing regardless.
PepsiCo, you wanna come out where we live and stay awhile out where the real winds blow? You wanna hawk your sewage in a bottle in a place where identity is nothing more then what brand of insanity you choose to put forth today? Where people see humanity for the violent, evil, drunken monkeys that we really are?
I didn't think so.
If you want that image, your CEO would have to stand out front, point to the ad and yell, "Fuck yeah we made that! We love it! Drink Mountain Dew bitches!!"
A lot of people would stop drinking Mountain Dew. A lot of people would develop the kind of brand loyalty that would make an ad designer cum in his pants. But they wouldn't do that, of course they wouldn't.
I realize that I basically saying that Corporate America is nothing but a bunch of soulless, greedy fuckwads which is basically like saying 'the sky is blue'
It's still nice, every once in a while, to look up and take comfort in the few constants in this world.
Tuesday, April 30, 2013
Martian Idol
The good news, there seems to be a... well if not serious then at least serious-esque movement to establish real human colonies on Mars. The bad news is that our first extra-terrestrial colonies will consist entirely of reality show winners.
At least that's the vision of Mars One, a effort made by a company out of the Netherlands. The gist of it is to send four colonists every two years to live on the planet for the rest of their lives and turn the whole event into a inter-planetary Truman Show. Think the Real World Mars: What happens when people stop getting their radiation protection from the magnetosphere... and start being real. Real dead. Because of radiation poisoning. Because Derek doesn't want to do dishes. Oh Derek, he's such a rebel, but you don't go walking outside without a space suit!
Leading up to the departure, it seems that the colonists, instead of being picked for scientific knowledge, flight training, survival skills or... anything useful. No, they will be voted for on television.
That's right, we are going to pick our future astronauts in the exact same way we pick our failed pop stars.
I don't know how I feel about this. The idea of colonizing another planet in my lifetime, it's one of those things that I feel absolutely must happen. I missed the height of human space exploration and it would be nice to see something happen, really happen on that front. To capture the future that we were suppose to have. Maybe flying cars are a pipe dream but permanent colonies on Mars shouldn't. But to have the whole thing be one giant reality show? It's like someone giving me my own brewery but telling me that the bar is being turned into a giant dance club.
I suppose in my heart of hearts, I believe that it's a good thing. The colonization of the solar system should be something we do, not as nation-states, but as a species. In this environment, maybe this is what species-wide communication looks like. But...
But I can't help but wonder what people will do when they get bored of it. Sure there will probably be some controls as to who gets to go to Mars at first. They will be people who have proven themselves capable and able to get along well with others for extended periods of time. But what happens when people get bored and elect some off-the-wall wingnut who's favorite... and really only activity involves booze, a jackhammer and his environment; or some Paris Hilton look-alike with daddy issues. What happens when we, as a species start sending people up to Mars just to make the television better.
Because this is a thing we would do. Fuck scientific exploration, we wanna watch some privileged asshole have a princess tantrum one billion km away. And it would happen. And we would watch it, and watch it happily.
At least that's the vision of Mars One, a effort made by a company out of the Netherlands. The gist of it is to send four colonists every two years to live on the planet for the rest of their lives and turn the whole event into a inter-planetary Truman Show. Think the Real World Mars: What happens when people stop getting their radiation protection from the magnetosphere... and start being real. Real dead. Because of radiation poisoning. Because Derek doesn't want to do dishes. Oh Derek, he's such a rebel, but you don't go walking outside without a space suit!
Leading up to the departure, it seems that the colonists, instead of being picked for scientific knowledge, flight training, survival skills or... anything useful. No, they will be voted for on television.
That's right, we are going to pick our future astronauts in the exact same way we pick our failed pop stars.
I don't know how I feel about this. The idea of colonizing another planet in my lifetime, it's one of those things that I feel absolutely must happen. I missed the height of human space exploration and it would be nice to see something happen, really happen on that front. To capture the future that we were suppose to have. Maybe flying cars are a pipe dream but permanent colonies on Mars shouldn't. But to have the whole thing be one giant reality show? It's like someone giving me my own brewery but telling me that the bar is being turned into a giant dance club.
I suppose in my heart of hearts, I believe that it's a good thing. The colonization of the solar system should be something we do, not as nation-states, but as a species. In this environment, maybe this is what species-wide communication looks like. But...
But I can't help but wonder what people will do when they get bored of it. Sure there will probably be some controls as to who gets to go to Mars at first. They will be people who have proven themselves capable and able to get along well with others for extended periods of time. But what happens when people get bored and elect some off-the-wall wingnut who's favorite... and really only activity involves booze, a jackhammer and his environment; or some Paris Hilton look-alike with daddy issues. What happens when we, as a species start sending people up to Mars just to make the television better.
Because this is a thing we would do. Fuck scientific exploration, we wanna watch some privileged asshole have a princess tantrum one billion km away. And it would happen. And we would watch it, and watch it happily.
Tuesday, April 23, 2013
The Blowback
It's been about a week since the bombings at the Boston Marathon, and people more or less act just as anyone predicted. Like their following a script or something.
Terrorism doesn't concern me. Not at it's current level at any rate. I worry more about my fellow Americans reactions.
So when it was even speculated... speculated, mind you, that the guy responsible could get a plea deal, well people more or less followed the script.
And what I have seen time and again is that police, politicians and military use this anger when it's still fresh. All these people willing to forgo one man's rights in order to feel safe or justified. Of course they never forgo one man's rights, now do they?
It's a sad thing when this might be the smartest thing I read today.
Terrorism doesn't concern me. Not at it's current level at any rate. I worry more about my fellow Americans reactions.
"Why don't they move to remove his citizenship then the door would be open for naming him an enemy combatant."
A Plea deal ... are you kidding me. This man is a terrorist and you want to offer him a plea.. #$%$ No wonder the #$%$ holes of the world come here to kill us.
So when it was even speculated... speculated, mind you, that the guy responsible could get a plea deal, well people more or less followed the script.
Anybody wonder what is wrong with the justice system. I am all for a fair trial, I am not for years of negotiations that cost millions of tax payer dollars. All the while blaming America and making him a victim, instead of a speedy trial and public hanging.Is the anger justified? Sure. It was a terrible thing and people have ever right to feel anger. They have every right to demand the man's head and throw his body into the Tiber.
I can guarantee you that if an American blew up a bomb in a muslime country and killed innocent people over there, he would be beheaded. Case closed.
Thankfully this guy is just a criminal and not a terrorist, according to dear janet we need to watch Christians and returning service personnel because they could be terrorists. This guy is muslim and we all know that they are a peaceful ilk so once again no terrorism here.
And what I have seen time and again is that police, politicians and military use this anger when it's still fresh. All these people willing to forgo one man's rights in order to feel safe or justified. Of course they never forgo one man's rights, now do they?
Hell since he admits to it. and claiming no ties to a muslim group. Whats the problem? He is one injection away from death. America has no worries from a muslim attack for his death.. LOL, HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA. KILL him and place hid body in a furnace. The EndIt's not that people are saying these things that worries me. It's expected. It may even be therapeutic. What worries me is that people are going to take them seriously. Policy will be enacted based on the vitriol, fear and anger immediately proceeding such an attack and we will have to live with it for as long as this republic still stands.
There is plenty of evidence to put him away. If he doesn't get the death penalty he would get butt raped and probably killed in prison. It may be better for him to go to prison since we cant legally sentence him to death by butt rape, which sounds way worse then lethal injection.
It's a sad thing when this might be the smartest thing I read today.
Tuesday, February 19, 2013
Open Letter to This Nation's Retailers
Dear Retail Outlets of the United States:
How are you? I am fine.
Listen we've got to talk about my email inbox. You all need to cut it the fuck out, mm...kay? Seriously stop it. It has gotten to the point where I get probably fifty emails per day from you bastards.
Now, I understand that some marketing focus group has put it in your stupid pea brains that you must maintain CONSTANT CONTACT with your customers. I wish I knew what sub-human was spreading such vial garbage so I could collect some holy relics, chant some words from a forgotten tomb of evil and send that creature back to the demon dimension from whence it came. Until that day, I will just have to be content with telling you all how wrong that concept is.
It seems to me we have to have The Talk. You know what I'm talking about, right? In some circles is called the Define the Relationship talk. In others it is called the Last Warning Before I Get a Fucking Restraining Order talk. It's basically the same talk either way.
Here it is. Ours is a buyer-seller relationship. When, in the course of my day I, for example, need a set of marital aids bearing the likeness of the cast of Firefly, I will come to you either in person or via the Internet and inquire as to whether or not you have such and item. If you indeed have such a thing that you are willing to give me for a set price, I will then arrange for funds to be transferred to you, you give me this thing I need and I GO ABOUT MY FUCKING LIFE.
See, I feel like you don't respect me. In the commercial hell-scape you call a mind, I feel like you see me as nothing but some dancing elf whose entire existence revolves around buying shit from you. And any waking moment spent not shopping should be spent earning just enough money to come back and buy more shit. Also it seems that you believe that I am so dumb that if, by some unimaginable oversight, you don't bombard my neurons with constant corporate stimulus, I will somehow FORGET that you exist! That I would be stuck in my apartment sitting in the middle of the living room floor in hysterics because I have ALL THIS MONEY and I DON'T KNOW WHERE TO SPEND IT ALL! WAAAA!
Let me clarify this. I know your there. It's okay. I just don't need any shit from you right this second. I'm good, thanks for asking. If I need something, I know where you are. I obviously found you once, I am fully capable of doing it again.
Fuck off. Leave me alone. Or else I will go to this other person to buy something... right up until they ask my email address too... fuck!
Love Jeremy.
How are you? I am fine.
Listen we've got to talk about my email inbox. You all need to cut it the fuck out, mm...kay? Seriously stop it. It has gotten to the point where I get probably fifty emails per day from you bastards.
Now, I understand that some marketing focus group has put it in your stupid pea brains that you must maintain CONSTANT CONTACT with your customers. I wish I knew what sub-human was spreading such vial garbage so I could collect some holy relics, chant some words from a forgotten tomb of evil and send that creature back to the demon dimension from whence it came. Until that day, I will just have to be content with telling you all how wrong that concept is.
It seems to me we have to have The Talk. You know what I'm talking about, right? In some circles is called the Define the Relationship talk. In others it is called the Last Warning Before I Get a Fucking Restraining Order talk. It's basically the same talk either way.
Here it is. Ours is a buyer-seller relationship. When, in the course of my day I, for example, need a set of marital aids bearing the likeness of the cast of Firefly, I will come to you either in person or via the Internet and inquire as to whether or not you have such and item. If you indeed have such a thing that you are willing to give me for a set price, I will then arrange for funds to be transferred to you, you give me this thing I need and I GO ABOUT MY FUCKING LIFE.
See, I feel like you don't respect me. In the commercial hell-scape you call a mind, I feel like you see me as nothing but some dancing elf whose entire existence revolves around buying shit from you. And any waking moment spent not shopping should be spent earning just enough money to come back and buy more shit. Also it seems that you believe that I am so dumb that if, by some unimaginable oversight, you don't bombard my neurons with constant corporate stimulus, I will somehow FORGET that you exist! That I would be stuck in my apartment sitting in the middle of the living room floor in hysterics because I have ALL THIS MONEY and I DON'T KNOW WHERE TO SPEND IT ALL! WAAAA!
Let me clarify this. I know your there. It's okay. I just don't need any shit from you right this second. I'm good, thanks for asking. If I need something, I know where you are. I obviously found you once, I am fully capable of doing it again.
Fuck off. Leave me alone. Or else I will go to this other person to buy something... right up until they ask my email address too... fuck!
Love Jeremy.
Saturday, January 12, 2013
Rancid Discovery
I used to love the Discovery channel, at least I think I did. I can never tell if the things I loved and now loathe changed, or if I just got older bitter and angrier. Maybe it was always this way, and I'm just now bright enough to catch on.
It seems to me though that Discovery and the History Channel have given up on intelligent programming and have gone the way of TLC replacing the last bastions of intellectual television with angry hillbillies screaming at each other.
I wonder if there is just no market for it now, assuming there ever was. I have a hard time believing that, even in a country as intellectually void as this one, there would still be enough people who want to watch something mentally stimulating as opposed to another version of the Jerry Springer show.
Either that or they are all going for the same market of slack jawed idiots that wouldn't miss an episode of Jersey Shore. It would be a sad irony, after everything that has been done to expand the options of the television audience, if choice was restricted because nobody wants to be the one to not be filling American airwaves with drunken pitched battles.
If the aliens pick up these signals, it could explain why they haven't showed yet. At least that's my hope. I don't think I want to meet the creatures that still wanted to make contact with us after we elected someone named Snookie to be a representative of our species.
It seems to me though that Discovery and the History Channel have given up on intelligent programming and have gone the way of TLC replacing the last bastions of intellectual television with angry hillbillies screaming at each other.
I wonder if there is just no market for it now, assuming there ever was. I have a hard time believing that, even in a country as intellectually void as this one, there would still be enough people who want to watch something mentally stimulating as opposed to another version of the Jerry Springer show.
Either that or they are all going for the same market of slack jawed idiots that wouldn't miss an episode of Jersey Shore. It would be a sad irony, after everything that has been done to expand the options of the television audience, if choice was restricted because nobody wants to be the one to not be filling American airwaves with drunken pitched battles.
If the aliens pick up these signals, it could explain why they haven't showed yet. At least that's my hope. I don't think I want to meet the creatures that still wanted to make contact with us after we elected someone named Snookie to be a representative of our species.
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