Do You Feel Lucky?

(and feel free to comment! My older posts are certainly no less relevant to the burning concerns of the day.)

Tuesday, February 09, 2016

Here's The Perfect Understated Valentine's Pizza Trick

1. Get a take and bake pepperoni pizza and a paid of scissors
2. Snip every damn pepperoni into a love heart
3. BAKE AND SERVE

Easy.

Note: be sure to find out first if one or the other of you is vegetarian. If so, give it up. Artichoke hearts won't make nearly the same impact.

Friday, February 05, 2016

How to make the Deviled Eggs

Boil 'em, crack 'em, peel 'em, cut 'em in half pop the hemispherical yolk-halves out into a bowl smush mayo, salt, mustard and a bit of cumin (and pepper, if to taste) into it then scoop the yolk-fluff right back into the boiled egg bowls and BAM! Deviled eggs! And I was only kiddin' with the cumin.

Garnish with a dash of paprika of course but you fools know that.

I'm OUT LIKE TROUT, too!

I prefer to say I AM OUT LIKE RAINBOW TROUT

This at first appearance seems to work on several levels. Is he trying to say he's rainbow symbol invested? "Out" could convey the same thing, via an portal-based small-room architecture metaphor. Yet the clearest impact of the phrase is in the HUGE FRISSON it immediately creates between this sudden, shimmery, huge flopping SLEEK SEABEAST he's just landed in the boat - and his own seeming sly, winking, potential half-denial of what at first overpowering glance, would seem to be far less flamboyant-arc-in-the-sky fishy, and very much more LAND or GROUND-based massive shambling BEAR-WOLFBEAST of a MAN-style and most particularly in the famous, "straight-acting" manner of his, which is always very much in demand under certain headings in the Seekers Seeking Sought sections of your neighborhood free weekly, or its online version, and which is only reinforced by his shocking, unsettling EASE of rippling, hair-tigger predatorial MUSK-BASED buried, burly heterosexual muscles that sport and cavort under the rough covering of his TANNED, HAIRY HIDE as if to say: hey, how about it? A friendly sort of eager slob-tongued brute! So who'd have thunk he'd sling such a gay fish at us on his way out the conversation, so blithe? It don't scan. What's he really mean this time?

It's because basically, let's be honest. I'm a cocktease. That's why I like to throw the rainbow in there. And gay, too, as a dictional fundamental literalist like me must always concede, in his the Ye Olde Schoole Waye, turn brisk on his heel like a face-heel turn to skip, traipse, frolic and gambol away whatever credibility remains after a stunt like that, and then people are like SHUT UP! STOP! Are you OUT LIKE TROUT or NOT? THEN GO!!!

Because you know. Technically. You're supposed to leave when you proclaim that. That's not your queue to start pulling out the diaphanous scarves and fan dance routine, no matter how much whistling, pounding on the floors and standing on the seats screaming and cheering you're used to, or feel somewhat entitled to at least.

But I digress, point is, I'm OUT LIKE TAH-RRRR-R-R-R-ROUT!!!

Rainbow style.

Thursday, February 04, 2016

Internet Poetry Clinic #1: WELCOME to the Introduction!, AKA I Just Couldn't Fit This Anywhere In The Previous Post.

~ Welcome, to another edition of Poetry Clinic, which I am putting on for the benefit of internet poets everywhere. Speaking as the greatest Living Internet poet, I - well wait, of course I wouldn't say a damn thing. It would speak for itself, if in fact I "were" such. Mis-step averted. But also, for all I know there might be some way better ones out there - I haven't really met a ton of internet poets, and maybe I should get out more before thrashing my laurels around. Take it for what its worth, salt to taste, and use your judgment with a bit more ease of grace if you will - and then you, too, may say to yourself: hey, if he's not, maybe I am! Go for it. Come at me in fellowship, my brethrenly RIVAL!!! Because from MY experience, I've never met even ONE inter...net, aw FUCK.

Her.

Yeah, okay, she's - wait! NOPE WAIT!

Saved by the technicality. She doesn't count.

She's not an "internet" poet. At least, not to me! And while I'm at hit, how the hell are people supposed to take a poet and interpret and know and judge just from online, anyway?

Speaking as the
"soi disant" greatest living internet poet, I can afford to be open minded on this and ask: explain to me how. Maybe that's turn the key to tumble the lock and open the door for me to say oh, hey, those criteria make sense and now I can get a better handle on where I stand in the rankings. ~

Roses Are.

See, perfect example. The above has all the earmarks (or hallmarks?) of a "modern poem."

* mostly prose
* novelty line breaks
* subtle if any rhyme

This gives your verse an incredible amount of loose, groovy freedom - but WARNING! It does NOT make poetry writing EASIER! If anything, the lack of a safety net, the lack of even a force of gravity to pull you down, keep you grounded, be able to tell up versus down even - the lack of all that restraint and equipment basically frees you to FAIL, if you're not careful. Most modern poetry is a perfect example. Mine, just right up above us there - well, admittedly, less so. Far short of a perfect example of that sort of thing.

That's the risk you take. Free verse is for REALS, yo.

I just wanted to point that out, because sometimes people are like "This museum piece looks like my special needs kindergartener's imaginary BLIND FRIND took a SHIT on a NAPKIN and slapped it up on the refridgerator like the proverbial asshole sittin' in Pie Corner with plumbs on his thumbs." That's pretty much a cliché, in the red-blooded just-us-folks world of art critique, in these days, ever since they finally gave up on the sort of progress that had been captivating snoots for a while by then. You look at some free-form MASTERPIECE and go "SHIT! I could do that without even WANTING to." But it's just as important to note - the same thing applies in poetry! It's just poetry never had a chance to get bastardized by the Modernist Hijack so bad, because poetry wasn't in competition with photography the same way painting was. Fine arts painting basically felt itself threatened, grew desperate, freaked out like a SPAZZ into a corner and DIED there, trying to find even one decent plump remnant wedged into a beveled aluminum crease of a by-then-long-since way-too-picked-over PIE PLATE.

And let me tell you. There is nothing inspirational about the wafting aroma of the curdles and scrapes and streaks of remains of purple-pulped pie juice that looks and smells like it has been sitting out in a room-temperature room since the beginnings of the ends of days. Bacteria, mold - you name it. And yeast trying trying to eat what's left of the sugar, but there's not even enough moisture left in it for poor little mister yeast to shit out a proper alcohol molecule as a by-product! Art, basically, became spoiled and so I just wanted to make sure you're aware of the pitfalls - the same thing hasn't QUITE happened to poetry yet, so be careful, but have fun. Just make sure you're not the one to fuck up poetry for EVERYONE TO COME GENERATIONS AFTER.

There's no Nobel Prize for that.

Saturday, January 23, 2016

Koan-In-One-Go

I've done poems-in-one-go. This is a Zen koan in one go! Let's see what happens.

GO!!!

A young monk, an initiate at the Shin-lao temple, was sitting meditating under his favorite banyan tree when up the path from the Imperial capitol came the great big master of the temple, who had been away journeying for many months, seeking enlightenment amid the lights and noises and general samsara of the big city. The young monk, immersed in his meditations, pretended not to notice as the master went by, head bowed. Soon, the young monk - again without moving his head or even his gaze, really, beneath his half-lowered and seemingly unseeing eyes - saw again the great big master coming up the road from the capitol. A second time, each taking no notice of the other, the master passed the monk by. When some time later, the monk saw the great big master's approach for the third time along the same road, he felt his curiosity piqued. Perhaps this was one of those metaphysical tests, and he was not rising to it. Then again, perhaps the not rising to it was the correct response for this test. There was no way of knowing without asking, so the young monk resolved: "fuck it." As the master approached, the young monk respectfully arose and stood by the road, in an attitude of respectful questioning. The master stopped, head still bowed, and asked "How can I help you my son?"

"Master, three times I have seen you come up the road from the capitol, walking towards the temple. Twice you have passed by, only to reappear coming up the same road again. What does this mean?"

The master paused in thought, seemed to come to some conclusion, and replied. "I have been teaching you a lesson, my child, by leaving the road just around the coming bend, running back through the forest down a meandering byway, and reappearing on the road yonder - just out of sight from where I saw you meditating."

"What does the lesson mean, master?" said the monk, head bowed, eyes narrowed quizzically, gazing down the road.

The master replied wisely, "It is one of those lessons that is impossible to unravel, my son. The benefit comes from meditating upon how impossible it is to figure out what it's supposed to mean."

"GOD DAMN IT AGAIN?!!!" replied the pupil, in exasperation. "IS EVERY FUCKING ZEN LESSON GOING TO BE LIKE THAT?"

"You learn quickly, my child," replied the master.

Friday, January 22, 2016

U.S. Census Bureau Estimates Indicate that I am Overwhelmingly White and Male

Well I could have told you that. But the knottier question is: what can be done about it? It does seem to put other ethnicities and sexes in a fucking bind. Could this be one of those situations where even I can admit, maybe revolution is the only option?

Bold words call for bold times, I know, but sometimes that proves to be the bellwether of things to come. In this case, let's hope for the best.

You Won't Believe This One Crazy Trick to Finding Out Foolproof Relationship Solutions

Date only fools! For years, and from there basically it's just trial and error.

Thursday, January 21, 2016

Thought of the day: Results.

Does it ever occur to anyone that without specifying further, saying "GUARANTEED RESULTS" ought to be about as reassuring as saying "GUARANTEED CONSEQUENCES"?

Thursday, January 14, 2016

Changing the other's mind.

People seem to be constantly in an argument with a goal to change the other's mind. This seems weird to me, and even a little creepy and disgusting.

Why would anyone be in an argument for this reason? What do you get if you do? You get nothing from it! What is it, a victory of some kind? Who's keeping score? What kind of a SICK FUCK are you?

Shoot.

Only reason I'm in an argument is to understand as fully as possible how the other deeply sees the thing. Sure, they or I might end up with a new opinion on the way out, but that's not why you go in. You go in to understand.

If you go in to change their mind - if that's your goal! - how can you not prejudice yourself against everything you might otherwise be able to learn?

Jeez. I mean, I could care less whether you agree with me on this.

I'd totally be piqued and adorably curious to hear about the ins and outs and reasons why though! I'm always keen for a joyful exploration of truths and views, seen through eyes of yous.

Tuesday, December 29, 2015

Formative Experiences #1: Human League's "Fascination"

So yeah. Formative experiences.

I remember I was a small child. I don't think I was even in school yet, or at least if I was, I hadn't learned anything yet. And I heard this song that kept playing, and going and going and going on, "KEEP FEELING FASCINATION, PASSION BURNING, LOVE SO STRONG... KEEP FEELING FASCINATION, LOOKING, LEARNING, MOVING ON"

In hindsight, I think it's impossible not to see how strongly these sentiments formed me. Pretty much my whole deal, neatly expressed - including the tinge of horror and pointlessness to it all. Fascination, looking, learning, moving on? Why, if that's all there is too it? Am I never to be at peace?

I knew even then, listening to this endless refrain that there was something wrong with it. But it was too late. My mind had been formed.

And so I walk the world in the grip of fascination, passion, and strong love, ever wondering at what I find, trying to understand but never quite able to grasp, to hold, to own. I look, I learn - what more is left that I can I do? I have been given no more options, except to move on and repeat. Repeat the process of fascination and acquisition of sensations, experiences. A kaleidoscope of ever-changing patterns, made of the same bits and shards, rotated over and over and over. I do not own myself. The search continues.

"Fascination" is copyright 1983, written by Jo Callis and Philip Oakey. Recorded and performed by Human League.



Thanks, guys.

Monday, December 28, 2015

Can "Sweet Georgia Brown" be elegiac?

Meadowlark Lemon passed away today. He was 83.

I remember when I was a kid we all got the impression that the Harlem Globetrotters were the greatest, most talented basketball team in the world. This was obvious to me. You didn't see the Celtics or the Knicks landing their own Saturday Morning cartoon shows! The Globetrotters were so talented they could win games while doing non-stop stunts and trick shots all the way. They ran roughshod over the competition with an almost scornful ease.

Later, I felt betrayed. But I blamed management and the media hush-up, not the players. I don't feel as though Meadowlark Lemon ever deceived me. He was doing his job, which was a job that was kind of like being Santa Claus, really.

In retrospect, finding out the truth about the Globetrotters probably eased the blow that fell years later, when I finally started to have my doubts about Professional Wrestling.

Requiascat in pace, Meadowlark.

Thought Of The Day: To Put

I love the "put" in shot-put. Where else can taking something, spinning around a few times to build momentum and then HEAVING it as HARD AND FAR AS YOU CAN constitute "putting" it?

If I were a track and field star I'd certainly take advantage of that verbiage. "Hey man, can you put this over on the counter?"

YOU BET I CAN

Tuesday, December 22, 2015

What Are YOUR Twenty Aspects?

Here's one that's going around that anyone can try! "What are your TWENTY ASPECTS!" It's completely up to you, although the rule is: no lying. Here's mine!

"Here are mine," I should say.

1. Real name: dogimo. Just kidding, it's Joe.

2. Male. This is probably not really salient fact #2, any more than my fucking name ought to weigh in at #1! But I'm into straight chicks, and admitting my maleness is a grade A way to set the deck for possible future, you know, maybe somebody will hit on me. Stuff like that!

3. I'm a feminist. BUT - BIG CAVEAT - only insofar as a feminist is "one who believes in and advocates for the political, legal and economic equality of a woman to a man." That's the definition by which it's hard to class myself otherwise. Not that I'd want to!

4. I'm Catholic, but you know what that seems more like an adjective to me than a noun. I'd say I'm a Christian.

5. I'd peg my philosophical position as pretty much skeptic. I've got a hell of a shredder up there, headwise, cutting stuff to ribbons and/or suspending judgment for propositions insufficiently demonstrated! It's really weird that I believe in God. My faith should be no match at all for my ungodly monstrous skepticism. I've tussled with this one over the years, and you know what I've arrived at? I'm pretty sure belief is a feeling. An emotion. The only way it could last would be if it's a process that falls outside the rational, like love generally does with me.

6. Humanist, though, is how I score on the online test. Which I embrace. I believe that we homo sapiens have within our reach so much of our fate - so many fates, would be a better way to say it!

7. I don't believe in fate. At least, not as a thing that brings things about. Luck, fate, stuff like that is a retrospective judgment. I don't believe in karma, either - not as a force that one can invoke when all other attempts at victim-blaming fall short. "Must have deserved it somehow!" Bullshit, I don't buy that. I do believe in a limited form of karma: that someone who goes through life poisoned and poisoning is probably going to get more and more bad reflected back at them from those who they've encountered - AND, they're also probably going to miss out on so much good just because they're not prepared properly to see and seize it. Or are looking in the wrong places. That, if you will, is karma.

8. I think true love means you love the other person more than you love yourself, and they reciprocate the converse. Also that you give yourself: all I am and all I have is for you. And if you give yourself the same way, then all you are and all you have is for me, and so we each get our selves back!

9. I think there can be as many versions of true love and truly work between the lovers. Only those in the relationship define its nature, its potentials, and its conditions and limits.

10. DALLAS COWBOYS

11. Boont Amber Ale has been my favorite #1 beer for nigh on 20 years, but lately I'm wondering...is it still? SACRILEGE

12. I write songs. I also co-write songs, and can teach how to write songs. I sing them, and can play some chords as well but I'd not go so far as to call myself a "musician" or "singer."

13. I have never met Allie Brosh, but I'm very proud on her behalf, of her success and of her artistic voice in general.

14. I'm not nearly as verbose in person. I'm super-interruptible and want to hear the inside of your head way more than the inside of mine!

15. I'm sweet. I'm a really sweet guy! You probably might not get that from my forum demeanor. It's kind of weird how things spin out of control from tangent to tangent into nonsense, and often it's brash and arrogant nonsense indeed but - I hope people can tell there's a core of sweetness, there. Because I tell you, a lot of people tell me I'm sweet. I used to get pissed when they did that! I've given in.

16. I like the number seventeen!

17. Skip.

18. I think if you can die in the army then damn it, you're old enough to have a drink at the VFW too.

19. I lost my virginity!

20. TWENTY!! WHOO! YES! Twenty! I was about to "scrape the barrel." WHEW

I knew I'd get there!

There are a ton of other aspects that I have, of course, but are they really on the same level as some of those? Arguably, no. Is it that salient an aspect of me that I'm a fan of such-and-such a band?

Hm. At past times it would have been. Somehow right now it doesn't feel that way.

What are YOUR twenty aspects?

The great thing about living in a dystopia is, the hard choices are made for you.

A thought of the day.

Friday, December 18, 2015

THIS SELF-HACK WILL CHANGE YOUR LIFE

AMAZING LIFE HACK CHANGE YOUR LIFE IMMEDIATELY!

1. Open your email and send all your contacts out to all your contacts!
2. In the body of that mass email, include all your bank and credit card account numbers and passwords! Also include all your social media accounts and passwords, and your Social Security Number!

THIS SELF-HACK WILL PROFOUNDLY AFFECT YOUR FINANCIAL DIFFICULTIES! IT WILL CHANGE THE WAY PEOPLE SEE YOU FOREVER! AMAZING LIFE HACK! CHANGE YOUR LIFE IMMEDIATELY

Tuesday, December 15, 2015

Stuck For What To Get To Give? Try These Can't Miss Gift Suggestions!

Here's more can't-miss gifts from the mind of Mister Gifty himself, Dogimo "The Gift Butler" Jones.

An indoor gnome. Like a garden gnome, but for indoors! Practically no one has one of these! What you do is, go get a garden gnome and then use your desktop publishing skills to customize a box with a lot of colorful pictures and testimonial information: INDOOR Gnome! Perfect for the study! For the bedroom! For the half-bath! Indispensable conversation piece! Everyone will be talking about your INDOOR GNOME! Just make the box all slick with a lot of pictures of the gnome in various rooms, surrounded by amazed generic family members clearly digging the gnome. The recipient will take one look at that box and realize this is something they're supposed to have in the house.

A Secret-Compartment Gnome! Not just any garden gnome, this garden gnome has a SECRET COMPARTMENT. It also serves as a devilish puzzle! Create a similar box to the one described above for Indoor Gnome, only touting how devilish the puzzle is and how it's all up to YOU (i.e. the recipient) to figure out how to open the SECRET COMPARTMENT! Then go get a regular garden gnome and put it in the box. Done! Best thing about this one is you can ask the recipient for updates on how it's coming, from time to time.

A more traditional style Puzzle Gnome is possible, but would be hard to do. If you could bust up a garden gnome into small smoothly interlocking pieces of relatively uniform size, the box would be very easy to design for this one. But in practice, I find a garden gnome tends to bust into rough pieces of large size, many pieces of tiny size, and way too much dust and powder to be presented as a "puzzle" you could put back together. Still, when you give them a box proclaiming it Puzzle Gnome, and they open it up and it's just this fucking demolished garden gnome - that might be a pretty fucked-up joke in itself to pull on someone! Then you can say: ah, I got ya! Here's your real present, though: Indoor Gnome.

Other gift ideas could be even more practical! Single-Use Home Defense Gnome. Ceiling Gnome...well wait, I guess that's just Indoor Gnome by another name. But who cares? It's how you present it that matters.

Once you've learned to get creative with the box, the perfect gift idea will become a snap!

Speaking of Indoor Gnome by another name, you know what, it should be called simply "Home Gnome," I think. Way better. If you're any good at customizing gnome sculpture, you could cut into the head part and make it removable and plant a phone in there and it could be Home Phone Gnome! That's getting a little fancy, though. With the box and everything else, I don't know how much effort you want to put into this.

Friday, December 11, 2015

Take Famous Stories And Set Fire To Them #1: Hansel & Gretel

Take Famous Stories And Set Fire To Them is a recurring feature wherein we take familiar, many-times-told, many-times-heard stories, and explore them and their themes from a new angle, uncovering hidden meanings or unexpected depths, by setting them on fire.

Hansel and Gretel were children. Their mom was dead, their dad was a poor woodsman who could barely support his new wife and she was like, "these kids, they'll be the ruin of us Gunter, we must lead them into the woods and leave them there." Hansel and Gretel heard the plan from the room next door, so they thwarted it twice: first with pebbles but the next time with pieces of bread, which didn't work because: birds. So they thwarted it once. The second time, they were lost in the woods. "Whatever shall we do, Hansel? We shall surely starve," said Gretel, but Hansel said pluckily, and sure enough soon enough they came upon a Gingerbread Cottage. The witch who lived there caught them both and it surely would have been the end of them, except SUDDENLY I JUMPED OUT AND SET THE WHOLE STORY ON FIRE! THE GINGERBREAD COTTAGE BURNT TO BLACKENED, GRAPE-NUTS-LIKE CRUMBS! ITS SUGAR-GLASS WINDOWS CRACKED AND BLACKED WITH SMOKE! THE WITCH, ROASTED ALIVE! HANSEL AND GRETEL, COOKED LIKE LITTLE CHILDREN! THE ENTIRE FOREST WHERE THE CHILDREN WANDERED, BURNED TO STUMPS AND ASH! EVEN THE CHILDREN'S FATHER AND STEP-MOTHER COULD NOT ESCAPE THE CONFLAGRATION AS IT ROARED, INFERNO-LIKE TO SURROUND AND TRAP THEM IN THEIR JOYLESS HOUSE!

The End.

Wednesday, December 09, 2015

Birthdays: It's Time I Had a Thing or Two to Say on Birthdays.

I've noticed people talking about birthdays from time to time, well I have a thing or two to say on that score and if this is an unpopular view, "sorry." I'm sorry, but I can't apologize for what I'm about to say. It is how it is.

Dear everybody who has had a birthday between last year and this one, or is planning to have one in the coming year:

As somebody who has a birthday of his own coming up in the next 365 days, I'd like to fill you in on where I stand. Okay? And if you think of it any other way - well that's cool for you! Don't let me sway you. What's good for the goose don't make the butter boat float, as they say. Here it goes.

I kind of think the whole concept of birthdays is ummmmmmmmmm GAY.

And I for one will be PERFECTLY FINE if people therefore IGNORE my upcoming birthday, because it is going to be SO GAY. I mean as occasions go, a birthday is probably one of the gayest excuses to celebrate that ever comes around, and as far as MY OWN birthday goes - the more people make a BIG DEAL about it, the GAYER it is likely to become!

So as far as I'm concerned, if you want to just give the whole thing a pass - unless you think of yourself as the kind of person who likes to contribute to MAKING THINGS GAY, I'd say "go with what it behooves you to do."

I hope that's fair, and I hope that's clear. I want people to know where I stand, on that.

Yours gaily,

dogimo

Monday, November 30, 2015

Thought of the day: truth

There is only one truth, there are just a lot of gaps between it.

Friday, November 20, 2015

The Noncomformist: a Slave Against Convention.

Some people say: "The real nonconformists don't care about whether they're conforming or not conforming." Then they are not noncomformists. I'd go one better and say that NOBODY should whether they are or aren't conforming. Would that person who truly doesn't care be a nonconformist? No. A nonconformist cares about conformity and reacts against it.

It is not admirable, not in any way, to be a nonconformist. There is no courage of convictions in it, because there aren't any convictions involved.

Neither nonconformity nor conformity involves anything more admirable than a concern for what the crowd is doing. Conformity itself is neither black nor white nor red all over. To mindlessly shackle one's self to whatever the crowd is not doing is no more admirable than to blindly shackle one's self to what the crowd is doing.

Nonconformity has no value except where the norm is wrong: where you can see and say why it's wrong. Where to conform would be offensive or unjust. The question is whether there is a real reason to recoil from a given norm. Where there is, you recoil from it - but unless you're some convention-obsessed nonconformist, you're not recoiling because it is the norm. You're recoiling because you can see and say why it's wrong.

A given normative trend or trait, habit, course of action or point of view may be good, bad or indifferent. Where the norm is good, conformity is good. Where indifferent, conformity is meaningless, and so is nonconformity. It would be a matter of pure taste and preference, with no real reason to embrace the thing or to react against it. Nonconformity is not "good for its own sake," except in areas of no import, of frivolity, fashion, and pose.

It is only where we can say and show the norm is bad that nonconformity can be admirable. Just so, conformity is good and admirable where you've chosen to conform for a reason, because the norm is something you can see is right. Either one of these takes convictions to steer by and courage, to act. To a person of convictions, in neither case will it matter whether it's the norm.

A person of convictions evaluates behavior based on convictions, not conventions.

Thursday, November 19, 2015

The Little Red-Haired Girl: A Ginger Enigma

There’s a Peanuts movie out, and I understand they show the Little Red-Haired Girl in it. Apparently a cartoon or two has been done over the years where the LRHG makes an appearance as well, but this character was never once shown in the comic strip. Shultz himself didn’t consider those animated depictions canonical. What was he trying to tell us?

I suspect this is one of those Fight Club type deals, where it turns out the character is a projection of the protagonist’s subconscious mind.

I bet if I tried I could write a nice treatment on that theme, packed with Peanuts erudition and deep psychological angles.

Friday, November 13, 2015

I've Decided to Become Mysterious!

I've decided that from now on I'm going to be mysterious about all sorts of things. My sexuality was the first thing I thought of, but also about whatever else comes up that hits that hint of mystique and fascination. Mysterious in general. An air of mystery! There's so much depth to me I haven't even plumbed at this point, one assumes having never really thought to try. It seems I've been saving it up - saving it up for something mysterious, no doubt. A mysterious purpose, perhaps, or even a mysterious event. Perhaps a coincidence or something! There's got to be all this mystery in me for some reason.

At least if there isn't - same thing, right? Can't plumb what isn't there. It ends up being mysterious by default.

But I've always suspected I might have a deep, lurking subconscious. Somewhere, deep inside. Under the surface. Beneath the ego. Craftier than most peoples', perhaps! Having gone all thus far in life keeping quiet, stealthily and not tipping its hand (assuming its got one). Time to lean on that a little bit, craft a bit of mystery. As Sarah McLachlan might very well have described the process: "Yeah you're working / building a mysterrrreeeeee / holding onnnn / holding it innn," and that about sums it up for me these days.

So many things to be mysterious about!

Am I heterosexual? I know I've said I am, but am I really? What if I'm just afraid how gay I might secretly be? Pretty sure I know the answer to this one. Do you? See, that's the heart of THAT little mystery. I assure you, I've heard a lot of people are putting on an act. If they are, it stands to reason other people might be, too. Things that make you go "hm."

How do we even know I'm a man?

I mean okay, sure, I know. Figured that one out pretty early - interesting story, actually! But how do we know? Aha, not so easy to answer! Pretty mysterious all of a sudden.

And what about:

Am I to be trusted? This is a little-more clear cut. How the hell can you trust someone so clearly mysterious?

And then there's my criminal record. Do I have one? What's on it? A lot of internet sidebar ad come-ons would leave you to believe they hold the secret. Check it out. Look into it. The mystery deepens.

And what about as-yet unsolved crimes? Your guess is as good as mine, but I'd say this is another great place to seek mystery out where it lives.

Privacy is important to we mysterious types. Go ahead poke and pry! What sort of mysterious answer do you think you'll get?

There's plenty of mystery in life. You just have to know where to look. In case you don't, though: RIGHT HERE.

The mystery is RIGHT HERE.

Thursday, November 12, 2015

Thought of the Day: Ambition

There is nothing left in this world except failure.

I will achieve that.

Open Letter to Zooey Deschanel: Your Eyes Are Pretty

Dear Zooey Deschanel,

I've noticed that you, more than any other actress, have been typecast as the girl who gets fallen in love with. That's got to be kind of fun and weird! In a story-book kind of way, wouldn't that have to be almost the most wondrous archetype-sculptural mold into which the molten wax of one's heated professional persona could be poured to cool? Of course, sometimes the stories themselves don't live up to the part you could play in them. And even when they do, many artists find the idea of being cast in a certain mold, or as a certain type, to be itself limiting. Disappointing. Less than they signed on for, maybe. I get that. But I suspect what type you get cast as has got to count for something! Also, whether you created and blazed your path to it yourself, or were stuffed and forced into it.

I don't recall Clint Eastwood complaining much about the kinds of roles he was expected to play, for example. You seem to have a pretty good sense of wonder and humor, and gratitude for the opportunities you've made magic of, and - at the risk of missing your ass entirely with such poorly-aimed kisses as these - it seems to me you bring that wonder afresh every time and are, in some way, maybe a diametrically diagonal female Clint Eastwood, of sorts.

You're not even my favorite actress! Just one of those people you wish endlessly well, you can't help but wish them well, you know? I'm sure you know people like that.

I'm not really sure who I would even cite as my favorite actress, to be honest. To rate and rank a work, a performance, that seems only fitting! Seems weird to rank human beings.

Okay. We now come to the difficult, and perhaps awkward, point of this open letter: its purpose, arguably. At very least, its pretext.

I don't know if you got my previous Open Letter to you?

If not, please disregard. It was primarily a lambasting of the media, over their insensitive and ham-handed handling of coverage in previous life events of yours, which frankly were not then nor ever would be the media's or the public's business. And which frankly I was like "butt out!"

Yet now I eat crow for some reason. I feel as though I must be a hypocrite, and I need to ask you - am I off-base on this? Or would you back me up, here? Because let me tell you, I was just dumbstruck happy-as to hear the news of your recent, love-based conversion experience. Not because such a leap is necessary to love, but because - well, especially coming after the tasteless and tawdry coverage a couple years back, when things were not so storybook, this news just washed over in a glow of welcome, breathtaking waves of restored faith in humanity, in life, restored faith in love and the possibility of love, renewed trust in what futures can be when shared fully, and a celebration of covenant. I'm a sucker for romance in general, but ritual forms of woo are a special weakness. I love love sealed and stamped, perhaps ceremoniously. Some say all that stuff doesn't matter - and they're right. Which is their loss.

I don't say it's super-important, obviously! What's between two is everything, and some folks don't happen find that stuff congenial, is all. Most people, it seems, don't. So it's just that unexpected extra bit cool, and hushed and sacred when some do. It adds something that is much more than ambience - for me it does, anyway. I always love seeing it, when someone takes a leap for love - unless of course you know both people and they're totally wrong for each other, and the whole thing's fucked up already before it even gets out of the gate - ugh. Not cool. But most of the time, if you're not privy to that level of detail, why assume the worst? Why not assume one can walk into the storybook tale. Such tales we tell ourselves, they so often fail and people so usually give up. Which makes it forever for them a lie. To assume one has entered the storybook, and to act in good faith as if, is the only way it ever comes true. So when people take some extra-devotional leap into togetherness, it just makes me step back and realize. Be reminded of what can be, and where you can land, given the occasional blind leap: breath caught, footing found. The horizon expands in glows of gold and rose, a love that will dawn forever. Or feels like!

Plus, if I may say so, in broader, cultural terms - this is a huge coup for Jews.

I digress, though. The point is: what am I, a hypocrite? Good news gets trumpeted and rings throughout the world, and everyone is happy to be part of it or hear it, no one curses the media. But then bad news comes.

Can I be right to blast the media for considering themselves entitled to the good and the bad?

Anyway, it's something to think about. It kind of just struck me.

Sunday, November 08, 2015

A Christian Accepts God's Judgment

A Christian accepts God's judgment is not his.

Or hers, naturally. But that's rarely if ever a problem, is it?

This has been your regular God Blog Theology Sunday blog post!

Friday, November 06, 2015

Comparative Analysis: Classic Archetypes of Myth Pt.2: Hercules V. Thor

I feel like Hercules would tear Thor's head off pretty easy. I mean, not in the Marvel Comics versions - they pretty much evened them out to about the same relative strength level, and from there Thor is going to win it due to that damn hammer, and his broader power-set. But in the actual myths, I feel like you've got to give Hercules the edge. Thor doesn't really come off as being on the same level, based on sheer feats of strength exhibited. But don't take my word for it! Read deeply into the original Norse and Greek myths, see what you think. I'm not the authority here. If anybody has some meaty counterexamples to share from verified, documented myth, I'd love to discuss.

The problem with the internet is that it's hard to zero in on pure Thor-Thor with all the Marvel Mighty-Thor material out there. Which is, in fact, the problem with the internet. As I've said.

I think the best way to settle this would be - well wait, first a bit of backstory. We all know Hercules was at the very least bi-, right? He definitely had a thing for boys - or maybe it was just the one boy? He totally missed out on the quest for the Golden Fleece when he abandoned the Argo chasing after his boy who had wandered off on unauthorized shore leave! Really, this was a case of narrative necessity. Hercules was simply too powerful. With him along, the quest would have been a futile exercise in deus ex machine, only without the machine. Dramatic tension-wise, don't bring a demigod to a knife-fight - even if there are living skeletons involved.

And on the Norse side of things, we also all remember the famous episode in myth in which Thor dresses up disguising himself as a bride. For various reasons. We need not go into those, here.

So what about creating a sitcom where the premise is Thor and Hercules end up as a COUPLE, due to a series of Three's Company style "misunderstandings"? Awesome!

Maybe that would need to be a 1-shot telemovie. I'm not sure that premise spools out indefinitely. It's going to peak and resolve, at some point.

Anyway.

I think a treatment like this would be a nice counterbalance to all the testosterone-heavy superhero-style god bombast we get today, in our theaters. Why not bring the emphasis back to some of the kind of shit that REALLY went on in the old days, mythology-wise? Almost all of which has been by now glossed over by antsy media barons and REVISIONIST PRUDES.

It could be called...it could be called... the god couple? I dunno, we gotta be able to do better than that. Some kind of pithy and clever title, anyway. Leave your suggestions in the comments.