Archive for July, 2015

OP is a phaggot; a new breach in Social Extinction’s sincerity and humility.

Friday, July 31st, 2015

Dat’s right!

How can I not?

Realizing, of course, that most of what I post is lame and utterly gay. Hey, I try, damnit. This blogging schtick is tough. I might say it’s hard work, but even I have limits. Still, blogging is not easy; at least, maintaining a blog isn’t. And definitely trying to write consistently when the fancy strikes. I’m pretty prolific of late, but I’ve gone through dry periods where I simply didn’t write much in the past.

A few years ago, in a fit of self-delusion, I devoted all my free creative time into finishing up a short story, and during that period of time, I didn’t post once on this blog. I made a big deal of it. I wrote a post detailing my temporary authorial sojourn and “warned” that this blog would go silent for a while. I listened as the world sighed in disappointment before realizing it was the tea kettle.

Anyways, I realize much of what I write is of a very questionable, probably dubious, nature, and there is little recourse for the poor reader. I’m sure there have been many page viewers that exited this blog quickly thinking exactly what this video points out.

In the spirit of honesty and sincerity, I will place this video and Youtube URL in the sidebar for the free and abusive use by all readers who might feel inclined, upon enduring one of my more pointless posts, to post this in the comments as a “hint” that I really jupmed the shark.

Go at it, phaggots!

I’ll sleep when I’m dead: an insomniac’s prayer.

Friday, July 31st, 2015

I rarely write about this scintillating aspect of myself.

In fact, maybe I’ve never written about it.

I have a very…nuanced relationship with sleep.

It’s 4:48PDT as I write this. It’s quiet and dark. I love early mornings because the world is about as quiet and morose as it will get. Normal people are asleep right now. Even on weekdays, most people still have not awaken.

Me?

I’ve been up since about 3 or 3:15, I think. I don’t look at the clock when I wake up in the middle of the night because it will freak me out, and for an insomniac, freak out = no sleep.

Last night I fell asleep quickly, about 10:45. Four and half hours of sleep would just kill most people. I usually get 6 hours, tops, if I’m lucky. I woke up in the middle of the night, went to the bathroom, laid back down. I could not fall asleep nor did I feel particularly drowsy or tired. I assumed it was later, like maybe 4:30. I laid there, waiting for the alarm clock to go off at my customary 5:25 time (even though I’m awake before that about 90% of the time). Nothing, no sleep, no alarm.

I started feeling energetic and “untired.”

I finally glanced at the clock. 3:59. Fuck!
See, even though I’m not particulary tired, I still feel as if I should sleep, so it’s frustrating. It’s frustrating not being able to do something I feel I should do. Sleep is the great potion of health, isn’t it? Read all those health articles in the mainstream press and they will tell you that if you don’t sleep 8 hours, you will die, now, this minute, if you’re lucky.

I’ve always been a crappy sleeper. Every little sound wakes me up. My son and other people I know can sleep through anything in the world. I’m the opposite. I can’t sleep through anything. When it’s hot, I’m screwed. Firstly, the heat makes it hard for me to sleep, so I can either, a) turn the A/C on. I prefer to put it on timer so it will turn off in a couple of hours, but this means that as I lay in bed, trying to sleep, I will be subconsciously aware of the sound and gauging it as a measure of whether or not 2 hours have passed, which in and of itself, keeps me up, or at the very least, prevents me from drifting off to deep sleep. Also, many times, when the air conditioner’s constant hum abruptly ends, I will wake up. Option b) is to open my bedroom window, but it abuts the street and even though my neighborhood is generally quiet, I am so sensitive to sounds that every little meow or rustle will rouse me. I use earplugs but they don’t help.

The last time I slept a lot (for me, 8+ hours of uninterupted sleep) was in January, 2008, the last time I had influenza.

The most quirky thing I’ve noticed about me and sleep is that if I go to bed before midnight, I will feel rested in the morning, regardless of how much sleep I get (or don’t). Such as today. However, if I fall asleep after midnight, I will feel like utter shit in the morning, unless I’m able to “sleep in.”

Incidentally, “sleeping in” for me means getting up way too early, logging into the computer for a few minutes, then going back to bed and falling asleep for another hour or two. Furthermore, if I go to bed after 11:30pm, this constitutes a “freak out” because I know it is too late and I stress about falling asleep, which invariably means, I won’t, at least until after midnight, which means you-know-what. Back to square one.

On the plus side, getting up early allows me to make a large breakfast and eat at home before work, unlike those robots who crawl straight out of bed into their car. You know them…the people who eat a bagel or donut and coffee and call it “breakfast.” Hey, at least they slept a lot. During the composition of this post, I made myself 2 strips of bacon, 2 over easy eggs and 2 slices of cracked wheat sourdough toast. I’ll take that over a bagel any day.

Tell me…what is “healthier?”

#CatalystsEndBlackLives. The newest term of exculpation for the chronic victim class.

Thursday, July 30th, 2015

We might have a new word to add to the very vast and very swollen lexicon of 21st Century victimology, courtesy of Garnet Coleman, a Texas Democratic state representative from Houston.

Pontificating about the supposed chain of injustices that culminated in Sandra Bland’s death after a traffic stop on July 10, he lashed out, grievously and powerlessly, against law enforcement in his home state.

Garnet Coleman

Mr. Coleman…expressed what he said was longstanding anger over the agency’s attitude on race, telling Mr. McCraw that he once walked into a department office that had wallpaper with the Confederate flag. Mr. Coleman also said he was driving recently when he was stopped for a minor traffic violation and the officer was “rude and nasty” and “treated me like a boy.”

“I get afraid when there’s a law enforcement officer around,” Mr. Coleman said. “I don’t see them as people who are trying to protect me.”

“We have moved backwards in attitude,” he added. Mr. Coleman blamed Mr. McCraw’s agency for what happened to Ms. Bland, saying that “the catalyst” for her death “clearly came from the traffic stop.”

“What he did triggered the whole thing,” Mr. Coleman said of Trooper Encinia. He demanded that Mr. McCraw instruct his officers: “Don’t ever throw a black woman on the ground again. Don’t ever do that again.”

OK, I get it. The “trigger” word has played itself out by now. That word, in describing some sly assumed sense of insult against the aggrieved racial victims of choice, has seen its better day.

Now we have “catalyst.”

According to Coleman’s latest contribution, Sandra Bland, because it cannot proven otherwise, died because an evil White catalyst spurred a self-destrutive, suicidal reaction in her jail cell while unsurpervised.

The catalyst word represents a new level of victimology. Its use does not attempt to refute reality. It only escalates the nonsense by inferring that the reality was created by indirect actions, behavior and words. If you allege someone is a catalyst for a crime, you are thus lowering the bar very low in order to squeak out a trickle of guilt that might not be attainable otherwise (in the presence of common sense).

In other words, concerning Sandra Bland’s demise, we can admit that yes, she was a suicidal hothead with a big police chip on her shoulder.

However, strategically contriving the catalyst word, we can disavow all personal responsibility for her actions because of this evil, racist catalyst. If it wasn’t for the catalyst, she would be alive today.

Catalyst is the latest term of unaccountabilty in the progression toward eschewing any sense of self-responsibility on the part of those who simply are constitutionally unable to directly obey a police officer’s orders without creating a Rosa Parks scene.

I feel bad that Cecil is dead and all, he was probably a beautiful creature…but you know what? I don’t care.

Wednesday, July 29th, 2015

Cecil, Cecil, Cecil.

The internet has cheapened the news cycle horribly. It has turned the news into a raging, filthy skank ho, a saggy old hag wearing acrid perfume, tomato-colored rouge and gloppy mascara.

The PETAcucks are at it again:

Cecil the Lion, a resident of Zimbabwe’s national park, and an national icon was poached and killed this week. Media reports in the Guardian, Wall Street Journal and elsewhere have identified American Walter Palmer, a dentist from Minneapolis, MN as the poacher. He is alleged to have lured Cecil from the safety of the national park to kill him. Two of Palmer’s local accomplices are already in custody. Zimbabwe authorities now actively seeking Palmer in connection with this incident.

We urge the Secretary Of State John Kerry and the Attorney General Loretta Lynch to fully cooperate with the Zimbabwe authorities and to extradite Walter Palmer promptly at the Zimbabwe government’s request

Why does crap like this even make the news?

I feel bad Cecil was shot dead, but fuck him. Bring on the next lion.

Or better yet, bring on the next non-news story. Maybe Malia Obama has a crush on the nice Jewish boy at Sidwell Friends?

Please, anything besides this damned lion.

Windows 10, the “internet of things,” and being a digital senior citizen.

Wednesday, July 29th, 2015

Wired posted an article about the unveiling of Windows 10 today in which it hedges its qualification until the OS can prove its compatibility, and furthermore, revolutionize, all “internet of things” devices which power up most of our digital world in the year 2015.

Conversely, the internet of things, by nature, disqualifies the relevance of the normal, “archaic” desktop of yore. Who would have ever thought, just 20 years ago, we would be speaking of desktops in such antiquated terms. That they would become such digital dinosaurs?

From the article:

Meanwhile, IDC, another market research form, reported an 11.8 percent drop year-over-year, down to 66.1 million PCs shipped. To put that figure into context, the number of iPhones Apple sold over the holiday quarter—74.4 million—blew the entire PC market away.

Yes, people will continue to buy PCs, and businesses, in particular, will continue to run Windows on those PCs. Gartner noted that the number it posted in its latest report might seem small because businesses might have waited to upgrade their PCs in anticipation of the Windows 10 debut. But we’re far from the days when a desktop OS ruled the computing universe.

According to a recent report from analytics outfit comScore, 61 percent of total digital media time in the US is now spent with smartphones and tablets, while 39 percent is on the desktop. And the biggest players in tech—Google, Amazon, Apple and Facebook–are all putting their considerable resources towards mobile. Windows 10 will not change this.

We’ve come a long way, baby. I was 30 when the home computer and internet gelled into this digital highway that has exponentially gutted industry and society in the 20 years hence. I’m a senior citizen in the matters of computing. I rely entirely on a desktop, and occasionally, one of them portable computer laptop objects.

All kidding aside…the internet of all things is clearly not for me.

I remember when life was simply made up of isolated, unconnected, disjointed events and locations. You left the house and you left life. I loved this and it was how I grew up. It suited my misanthropic, asocial spirit. Now, you can’t be asocial any more because society wants to be up your ass 24/7.

I just can’t do it, man. Internet of all things. Screw that. I don’t use a smart phone, a tablet, 4G anything. I don’t care to take my digital reality outside the house. That world is the wild yonder, and none of this computer shit belongs there. I’m fully capable of affording and using internet of things paraphernalia: I just don’t want to. I snub my nose at your smart phone tools, so wrapped up in your screens. Dense robots of the new age.