There was once a time when computers were far more of a chore. Fighting with operating systems, and software compatibility, and hardware compatibility, and drivers, and AOL. I imagine leaving the internet broken was an acceptable alternative to loading screens and Viagra spam. Most people were far too busy nourishing in the warm glow of their television. But, much like that one awkward girl in middle school, everything became faster, prettier, easier. The more accessible the internet became, the closer we approached Facebook comments from Nana. If there’s one thing humans like, it’s lookin’ at other humans. So, the average everyday chap eventually decided to get into this whole “world wide web” thing. Our relatives. Our co-workers. Our acquaintances. People without any real sense of the greasy, maladjusted piranha native to these waters. They offer an absurd amount of their private lives for general consumption. And eat we shall.

I so thoroughly enjoy the general public’s gradual exposure to the depravity and malaise of Internet culture. I also thoroughly enjoy reading and watching as people clumsily expose their bleak lives. Youtube is at least 20% video blogs (vlogs for you hip folk) practically no one watches (seriously like 40 views) that provide bizarre portraits of the American unconscious. Like if Normal Rockwell visited a farm then painted Guernica. I spend a great deal of time exploring this ocean of entertainment that is the internet, and I’ve found a new source of fun.

Trolling our less internet savvy Facebook friends is always great for a laugh. But there are only so many conservative talking points that can fit in one post. Fortunately, there are dozens of people you knew from some period in your life up to and including that smelly kid from camp (me) constantly bombarding your Facebook with shit you never read. Before your eyes they are weaving a rich tapestry of boring smeared with whatever bit of turd personality they can muster. And it passes unnoticed because we forget that we knew them in their formative years. Remember the chubby kid who played trumpet? Well he joined a frat and hides his insecurity behind a Super Troopers poster and an alcohol problem. And it all shines through on Facebook.

But we don’t care about the boring-and-nothing-else folks. No, we want the folks who were already a big bag of neuroses when we met them. To see how they’ve blossomed and reinforced deeply confused personal identities.

To be continued..

this could be you

Tremors is best read as a chilling portent about widespread globalization and its impact on the modern world. In the film we see an archetypal American small town, who, despite being a bit rough and tumble, epitomize the American frontiersman of days past; a melange of traditional values, tenacity, and a fierce sense of national pride and territoriality sustain their community (which, not surprisingly, is named Perfection in the film.)

you were too good for this world

Despite all their efforts to live, love, and flourish as a group, however, their dreams are to soon turn nightmarish as the graboids, here, coming from the south (read: Mexico), invade their town and lives and literally rock the foundations of their community. This foreign invasion, which cannot be reasoned with or, truly, understood, begins to tear their sense of safety and well-being apart. This theme of globalization can even be seen in the title; a contraction of “Trés Morts”, a Franco-Spanish term meaning “Three Deaths”, alluding to first the death of nation, then the death of community, and finally the death of self which was postulated as a consequence of modern globalism first by Thomas Friedman.

¡SOY GUSANO GRANDE! ¿TIENES TRABAJO?

Ultimately, it is the most boldy American of all of them, the Horatio Alger-inspired Burt, who leads the group to safety by using his sense of patriotism and inventiveness. It remains to be seen if a true Burt will arise in modern post-9/11 America; however, should that day come, I think we will know very quickly, as our fears, whether of graboids or cheap, outsourced labor, will come crashing to the ground much the same way the buildings of Perfection did during their most trying of times.

THE CLOWN SHOW IS ON HIATUS FOR RETOOLING

We will be releasing the new one probably this weekend.

Glory of Ukraine
Gremlins
Staunch Political Discussion
Urban Attentionwhores

Plus: a very special episode of AntlerCar

POSTNOTE: Soundscape Foreverdream Superfan #1, Jarrett Melendez-LaJeuness-Kurobana-Sheinhardt has submitted his own interpretation of what AntlerCar looks like:

Jarrett, your artistic abilities more than compensate for your inadequacies as a lover

Topics include:
Chakras
Kugelmugel
Ankle Disparity
Jiminy Glick
and Rich issues a Fatwa against Martin Short

I understand finding or creating such photos may be to much
for what I’m looking for.
It’s for a Hippie wedding idea in Montana 2020
Things I would like:
1. Psychedelic background (bright colors) in a scenic field
2. Words or banner of , Montana 2020 Clearly Beautiful
3. sheep and chickens running around
4. Bride and groom
5. bride short(5’3) long dirty blonde braid with flowers in her hair
6. groom tall(5’10) pale white, buzz cut, khaki shorts and tie dye shirt
7. person marrying the 2 would be an earthy type hippie.

This motherfucker is lucky I’m unemployed. I pulled down my e-pants and digishitted some crapxels into Photoshop for about three hours, and this is what I created:

I hate myself and want to die

For this I received 50 dollars. And yes, I know what you’re thinking: “roughly $5.55 per sheep?”. Yes. I was feeling charitable.

me: i thought that once

His story begins, as so many do at Fukajiki Robotics Concern nestled deep in the Osaka mountains. Built to spec under a particularly ambitious squad of assembly workers, he was fated for glory. He excelled in his training protocols, greatly pleasing his Japanese overlords.

“There wasn’t a test they could throw at me in those days…” A cloud of steam hissing from his exhaust. “Those were better days.”

Pete quickly attracted the attention of Fukajiki top-brass. In a demostration personally overseen by the oft-tyranical Asumo Haikuji, he torqued more than 900 lugnuts to weight in 12 minutes, a company record. Asumo was heard to mutter “Most Excellent” before  a swift departure. Pete’s heart revolved with pride.

“I had granted my glorious master engineers honor for Fukajiki. And honor for myself. I was headed for big things, but I never imagined how big.”

His breakthrough performance quickly circulated the company, making Pete the most talked about robot of the entire KA9 model series. He seemed sure to crush Daimoto Industries much-lauded VortekII series. It was only a matter of time before he was to headline some press-events, but the young KA9 could scarcely imagine the thrust of Asumo’s confidence.

“I mean I’m Japanese – I’m programmed to be very modest. I never expected to be Fukajiki’s flagship in the Japanese Robotic Future Now Expo. We’re talking about the fourth largest bi-annual robotic industry tradeshow in Japan. I was billed as ‘The Gloroious Japanese Sun Rising Above Daimoto But Never Shining on Them’ to boot. And that’s not your typical sabre-rattling and posturing. No Asumo expected all that and more. The pressure, my word! I had to do something to calm my mesh nerve maps.”

Pete found relief in drunken debachury and an eventual gutter. He was discovered in his transport box the next morning with his torquing arm in a heap at his feet. He had torn it off the previous night in the traditional Japanese act of defiance.

“Man were  my masters pissed,” he recounted head in hand.

They worked frantically to save it but to no avail. When the curtain finally went up the audience sat in stunned silence. Then they saw Pete. The stunned silence giving way to unmistakable shocked silence. Asumo’s stone glare turned to seething stone glare  and he quickly stormed out. Along the way he kicked a small Korean girl.

“Whoa, whoa, whoa. Don’t even try to blame that slavedriver’s child-kicking habits on me.”
I’m just sayin’.
“Sayin’ nothin’, you said this wasn’t a smear piece!”

In any event, it was a press nightmare that threatened to sink Fukajiki Robotics. They had to fix it fast. The matter was brought before the Board of Elders deep in the bowels of the industrial giant. Pete knew he would be shown no mercy when a drink cart robot bumped into the coffee table splashing plum wine on the carpet; an elder seeing this mercilessly beheaded the poor bot whos only crime was Fukajiki’s own shoddy navagation system.

“I choked down my grim fate.”

The Board of Elders ruled with cold authority. The lead elder rose and spoke his voice booming, “Pete for the disgrace of Fukajiki Robotics Concern you are sentenced to Exile.”

“There it was, like a sledgehammer on my once brilliant future. I was to be carted off and dumped with the rest of Japan’s second-rate, electronic garbage… America.”

Tune in whenever I damn well feel like it for Part 2 of this exciting saga.

Also when I watch C-SPAN I have leagues of congressional fantasies. Mostly involving Arlen Specter’s snatch.