I was going to write a long screed about the movie I just saw for whose marketing we’re trying to pitch, but I’m too nauseated to be coherent. So, allow me to boil it down into easy-to-digest bullet points:
-If you think watching someone be flayed alive is entertaining, you need to check your ass into a psychiatric facility now. I don’t give a damn if you’re the creator or viewer of said content. Get thee to a nuthouse, ’cause you’re fucking crazy.
-If you expect me to try and sell this trash, you’re even crazier.
-But if you intend on recutting this flick so it’s all about the zombie demolition derby, then we can talk.
I realize that most of this site’s traffic comes from either a) people I know or b) Korean people who just want to pay their bills, but after watching the debacle at BoingBoing regarding unpublished posts, edited comments and standards of accountability (and posting a little bit in the fast-approaching-conversational-singularity thread at MeFi), I figured it would be a good idea to crank out some sitewide, privacy and comment policies, both heavily inspired by John Scalzi’s. Here they are.
I grew up with comedy albums. I can still do Bill Cosby’s Hofstra from memory, and my brother only has to start singing “Soap, soap, soap” to crack me up. Dr. Demento only opened more doors.
And of course George Carlin was in there. The classic gold albums (FM & AM, Occupation: Foole and Class Clown) are still my favorites, though it’s his routine “Death and Dying” from On the Road that epitomizes what I loved about Carlin: the voices, the microphone mastery, the playful love of words and language how they shape our thinking about Big Heavy Shit.
I didn’t like much of his standup after Parental Advisory because it sounded like he’d stopped going for the funny and gone after the applause. It’s easy to make a friendly crowd hoot and cheer, but making them laugh? That’s hard, man. And to make adults laugh over wordplay and absurdity all while dealing with Big Heavy Shit, that’s really hard. All of the albums that were based on misanthropy sounded like a man who’d just said, “It’s too hard. Fuck it.”
So, I don’t mourn George Carlin, because the teacher I listened to hasn’t gone away and will never go away. Light up some Toledo Windowbox tonight for him.
Tim Russert came in, wearing his Rex Harrison hat, the morning of the caucus. It was a funny little detail that I thought about every time he showed up on The Daily Show or a blog: where’s the hat, Tim?
I can’t remember the last time I saw something this gloriously, rockingly silly. Supergrass, I am now going to buy your entire back catalog in pounds sterling. Because I want you to spend it all on puppets.
I realize that previous post was a long time coming, but in between working on Windswept and posting to Twitter, I’ve got the writing bases covered. There’s other stuff, as always, but I can’t talk about it until it’s done, because to do otherwise would ruin the surprise. And why be a writer if you’re not going to surprise people?
1) We survived the trip from LAX to Florida and back. No limbs were eaten by eels, sharks or retirees. Floating above the wreck of the Spiegel Grove with eighty feet of water overhead was a marvelous experience, made even better by doing it with Anne and Chris. It made up for the cramped seats on Spirit Airways and the fact that, while the people at the desk think that row 10 is the emergency row with the sweet leg room, it was a pile of Not Fun.
2) Mark Zuckerberg is my new Evil Corporate Nemesis, taking the place of Steve Jobs (though I’ll probably put ol’ Steve-o back up if I ever buy an iPhone). Why? Because he represents the company who thinks that the following is a Good Idea:
- I make a Facebook page for a client’s product. Said product is a movie, and said movie has a soundtrack that will get the kids a-hippin’ and a-hoppin’.
- I want to put Facebook’s Music Player application on this page in order to facilitate the aforementioned hippin’ and hoppin’.
- The Music Player says, “First, I’m gonna need to confirm that you do, in fact, formally represent the movie in question. You can confirm this by uploading a scan of your student ID, your driver’s license or your passport.”
Now, the magical disclaimer says that I can black out any sensitive information as long as my name and picture are still visible. I know this is all so Facebook has its ass covered in case the RIAA Cops start kicking in doors and waving their weapons-grade subpoenas around, but still. Who in their right fucking minds would trust these Facebook assclowns with any of the information on a fucking passport just to upload music? Screw you, Mark Zuckerberg! You’re probably not responsible for this, but between this and the awful UI and everything else, screw you!
