So in November I "wrote" a "novel" and in December I conquered some Mario titles I hadn't yet seen through. January brought the scanning project back, and I drifted toward writing and tabled the scanning, with a touch of seasonal flu or cold, in Feb thusfar.
There aren't any words to do justice to the creakings and groanings of the mind. As we get older, the body begins to throw up signs of the impending end. I'm fairly sure nobody ever warned me that my body would develop a claritin dependency before 40.
A miasma of radio waves, high fructose corn syrup, industrial waste added to the drinking water, and laws against anything interesting - fiercely protecting the stupid, ignorant, helpless, all encouraging the laziest lowest denominator to get more inert.
I've noticed the gradual slide into insignifigance I'm making. I just don't know if I care anymore. Plastic teenage tragedies pumped onto the culture by republitard networks gushing bad production values and overspending on underwhelming talent...
I think I'm just fine turning into grumpy old bastard and constantly whittling down the amount of attention I waste on the newest latest greatest bullshit some asshole is selling today.
I usually wait till full seasons of my chosen few shows are available and then barrel through them in short order, miniseries style bursts.
I was raised by women who couldn't be satisfied with mere television, but had to supplement their boredom with reading a novel still facing the screen, or working word search and crossword puzzles at the same time.
I still recall Grandma's daytime schedule revolving around what she was gonna watch while she did it. Morning news talk and variety shows gave way to game shows, which turned to soaps and stories over the 10-noon block. More game shows in the afternoon before they ceased the tyranny and let me watch cartoons.
I can't get my head around the popularity of massive games like World of Warcraft or similar things. I may spend three minutes clicking buttons in mafiaspace every other day or so, but I can't understand RPG players. Reality moves at a slow enough clip as it is, why bother superimposing another layer over it that moves at its own arcane pace?
RTS games appeal a little. The starcraft variant of warcraft back inna day was somewhat amusing. I just can't get my head around a lot of the newest shit. I haven't even been interested. Sports games are for idiots, just like most sports.
I like actual futbol, rugby, MMA fights, and real sports with real stakes performed by real actual people. Fuck nascar, fuck the NFL, and fuck all million-earning assholes who play any "sport" known to man. Money ain't shit.
Parkour and skateboarding are honest sports compared to fucking golf and driving in a circle. Rally racing is a sport compared to drag racing - which is driving in a straight fucking line...probably the only thing stupider than nascar this side of a tractor pull.
I like demolition derbies tho. So I'm not dogging on all redneck American pasttimes. I have a low tolerance for dumb whatever the color or flavor, but I'm not prejudiced. I don't care what color you are or where you come from. If you're trying not to be stupid, you're okay by me.
I was struck stupid the other day out dining in an establishment with too many big flat screen teevees. Literally like one per booth. And they hand out the remotes to the customers, so this guy further from the screen than we were seated, cranked the volume up to 11 for nascar.
So all throughout my midafternoon breakfast I was subjected to the sounds of zooming rednecks in stupid formation trying to out-circle each other. Narrated by jimbob the toothless wonder and jethro the slack-jawed announcer in perpetual yawling drawl. Talking about how heroic and dedicated these fucks were for driving in circles.
This is not what we evolved for. Wasting fuel, practicing a futile and obviously mundane effort, labelled up like the corporate whores you are. Surrounded by masses gathered in big salivating mobs who swill beer and hope for a firey crash. All the while breathing high-performance fuel exhaust and rubber dust?
Does any other nation have this kind of rampant stupidity as a celebrated pastime?
(Press three to jab the author in his fleshy pink belly with a broken beer bottle,
press four to tell him he listens to too much george carlin and patton oswalt and needs to getta life. Press six to send him a nascar beer cozy.)
