"I’ve Never Seen A Homeless Guy With A Bottle Of Gatorade."

I don't think I've ever been terribly upset upon hearing of any particular celebrity's death. George Carlin may be the first. It's not that I want to cry about it or anything, and besides, ol' George wouldn't really want me to do that anyway. He knows I didn't know him (or did know). But he is the first person of note to die in several years that mattered a wit, at least to me. He's well knows for his stand-up comedy performances (though quite unlike most other cookie cutter comedians) than he was a blazing, acerbic, pissed off, musing, curious, and no-bullshit social commentator. Yeah, sure, it was kinda sad to hear about Timmy Russert, but let's face it, Carlin actually gave honest and truthful insight (sometimes misconstrued as mean) on the shitty and dark side of our twisted humanity, whereas Russert only reported it. Russert was a reporter, informed and educated, sure, but George was an enlightened philosopher of the world, consequently dismissed through the use of harsh and vulgar language. Which is exactly the way his world (and ours) tends to be.

I Actually, I got to see the man when I was 14 or 15, to young to understand everything he had to say, but at least wise enough to understand that he possessed a keen passion that many lack in any field in which they might endeavor. And it was a ferocious passion that he never lost, even through old age, as he was doing shows up until a week before his death.

As tiring as it is to hear, Carlin is best known for his Seven Words You Can't Say On TV bit, but spending hours reviewing many of his highlights, new and old, it becomes painfully obvious that he was much more important than that alone. Like myself, he thoroughly enjoyed ranting of his "psychotic fucking hatreds" concerning those that take themselves too seriously. You know the ones: religious fools, feminist fanatics, environmentalist do-gooders and the like. And you gotta admit, who doesn't enjoy soundly belittling and berating these self-righteous pricks? He wanted to do away with all those annoying bastards we all have to deal with every day and even devised creative and entertaining ideas about how to off these shitheads. Such as disemboweling "up-scale, yuppie, green peace, environmentally conscious assholes" with a wooden cooking spoon somewhere deep in a forest. Social injustices and an apathetic world population were also another matter that vehemently invigorated Carlin, something he never failed to touch on in any of his performances. He never felt sorry for those he felt dug their own whole, and in return, desired no quarter himself.

It wouldn't be hard, from listening to descriptions of Carlin's opinionated raves and rants, to succumb to the misconception that the man is simply an angry miscreant whose only wish is to stir up trouble. Tsk, tsk. Not only was the man a comedian of the highest order, unlike many of his ilk, he provocations were meant to make you think, not just laugh. No doubt, many of his convictions are a hard pill to swallow, for those who take life just a wee bit seriously, which that was fine by him. Wildfires engulfing the west and levee-breaking floods in the mid-west, to Carlin, were just desserts for those residing in those areas. He told the "sassy" and "tough" hostesses of the View that man had tested nature to the limits and they saw fit to build, build, build, where building should have ceased some time ago, and only "unenlightened half-wits" could have destroyed our once beautiful land. He believed in using words, plain and simple, such as "cripple" (now physically "challenged" or "disabled"), and violently disagrees with substituting "constipation" with "occasional irregularity," and to use anything else was only a "grotesque evasion" of the truth used by "smug, greedy, well-fed white people." He believed that people were becoming whiny, soft, wasteful, negligent, obese, greedy conspicuously consuming asshole fuckheads. And, you know what? He was right. Carlin's realistic and gritty beliefs go on and on, most of which, I staunchly agree with, and now that he's gone, there are a rare few left to disseminate these essential p.o.v.'s with as much bravery as he did. There'll be no replacing him.

There's so much to say about George Carlin and I could keep going for quite some time. The man's got way too many brilliant insights and commentaries to discuss thoroughly in one dumb little blog, so I'll leave it up to you to find your favorites. Nearly all his stand-up performances are on YouTube, along with various other clips. If you don't think he's funny, then you're probably part of the problem Mr. Carlin so violently railed against. And I don't doubt he'd think you deserved to be hit repeatedly in the face with large pieces of mining equipment.






50 Good Ones From My Man George (Ok, 51, but the shit about Helen Keller is too funny)

1. I don’t have pet peeves — I have major psychotic fucking hatreds!
2. Think of how stupid the average person is, and realize half of them are stupider than that.
3. Swimming is not a sport. Swimming is a way to keep from drowning. That’s just common sense!
4. A house is just a place to keep your stuff while you go out and get more stuff.
5. Have you ever noticed that their stuff is shit and your shit is stuff?
6. I wanna live. I don’t wanna die. That’s the whole meaning of life: Not dying! I figured that shit out by myself in the third grade.
7. I used to be Irish Catholic. Now I’m an American — you know, you grow.
8. You can’t fight City Hall, but you can goddamn sure blow it up.
9. If the Cincinnati Reds were really the first major league baseball team, who did they play?
10. Honesty may be the best policy, but it’s important to remember that apparently, by elimination, dishonesty is the second-best policy.
11. If it’s true that our species is alone in the universe, then I’d have to say that the universe aimed rather low and settled for very little.
12. No one knows what’s next, but everybody does it.
13. There are 400,000 words in the English language, and there are seven you can’t say on television. What a ratio that is! 399,993 to 7. They must really be baaaad. They must be OUTRAGEOUS to be separated from a group that large. “All of you words over here, you seven….baaaad words.” That’s what they told us, right? …You know the seven, don’t ya? That you can’t say on TV? Shit, piss, fuck, cunt, cocksucker, motherfucker and tits.
14. The very existence of flamethrowers proves that sometime, somewhere, someone said to themselves, “You know, I want to set those people over there on fire, but I’m just not close enough to get the job done.”
15. The reason I talk to myself is because I’m the only one whose answers I accept.
16. Just when I discovered the meaning of life, they changed it.
17. Religion has convinced people that there’s an invisible man…living in the sky, who watches everything you do every minute of every day. And the invisible man has a list of ten specific things he doesn’t want you to do. And if you do any of these things, he will send you to a special place, of burning and fire and smoke and torture and anguish for you to live forever, and suffer and burn and scream until the end of time. But he loves you. He loves you and he needs money.
18. Weather forecast for tonight: Dark. Continued dark overnight, with widely scattered light by morning.
19. If it requires a uniform, it’s a worthless endeavor.
20. If you live long enough, sooner or later everybody you know has cancer.
21. You know the good part about all those executions in Texas? Fewer Texans.
22. Soft rock music isn’t rock, and it ain’t music. It’s just soft.
23. Reminds me of something my third-grade teacher said to us. She said, “You show me a tropical fruit and I’ll show you a cocksucker from Guatemala.”
24. As soon as someone is identified as an unsung hero, he no longer is.
25. If a movie is described as a romantic comedy, you can usually find me next door playing pinball.
26. The IQ and the life expectancy of the average American recently passed each other in opposite directions.
27. I knew a transsexual guy whose only ambition is to eat, drink, and be Mary.
28. I put a dollar in a change machine. Nothing changed.
29. If you’ve got a cat and a leg, you’ve got a happy cat. If you’ve got a cat and two legs, you’ve got a party.
30. You can prick your finger — just don’t finger your prick.
31. By and large, language is a tool for concealing the truth.
32. Ever notice that anyone going slower than you is an idiot, but anyone going faster is a maniac?
33. Isn’t it a bit unnerving that doctors call what they do “practice”?
34. I don’t like to think of laws as rules you have to follow, but more as suggestions.
35. I think it’s the duty of the comedian to find out where the line is drawn and cross it deliberately.
36. When you’re born you get a ticket to the freak show. When you’re born in America, you get a front-row seat.
37. Eventually, alas, I realized the main purpose of buying cocaine is to run out of it.
38. I never fucked a ten, but one night, I fucked five twos.
39. I never joined the Boy Scouts. I don’t trust any organization that has a handbook.
40. I would never want to be a member of a group whose symbol was a man nailed to two pieces of wood.
41. Have you noticed that most of the women who are against abortion are women you wouldn’t want to fuck in the first place? There’s such balance in nature.
42. So I say, “Live and let live.” That’s my motto. “Live and let live.” Anyone who can’t go along with that, take him outside and shoot the motherfucker. It’s a simple philosophy, but it’s always worked in our family.
43. Catholic — which I was until I reached the age of reason.
44. Here’s a bumper sticker I’d like to see: “We are the proud parents of a child who’s self-esteem is sufficient that he doesn’t need us promoting his minor scholastic achievements on the back of our car.”
45. I love and treasure individuals as I meet them; I loathe and despise the groups they identify with and belong to.
46. Beethoven was so hard of hearing, he thought he was a painter.
47. Don Ho can sign autographs 3.4 times faster than Efrem Zimbalist Jr.
48. God bless the homicidal maniacs. They make life worthwhile.
49. I’ve never seen a homeless guy with a bottle of Gatorade.
50. One great thing about getting old is that you can get out of all sorts of social obligations just by saying you’re too tired.
51. If Helen Keller had psychic ability, would you say she had a fourth sense?

Well, Nice To Meet You, Lasse Gjertsen, From Kneurgen, Near The Joergen Fjords*

Late last year, a friend of mine introduced me to a most imaginative and creative fellow by the name of Lasse Gjertsen. Gjertsen's YouTube videos have made the rounds, for sure (with one video at over 10 million hits), but I'm still surprised at how many have never encountered his productions. This Norwegian lad of 24 or so began submitting the videos of his creative work in 2006 and currently has the 31st most subscribed channel.

I don't doubt that many Gjertsen haters (and I'm sure there's a few) believe he uses only simple effects and techniques common among filmmakeng, but then again, that's a large order to fill!rs. Or, more appropriately, "filmmakers." It's not all about how he gets it done, but his creative expressions and techniques that make him much more original and exciting than 99% of the other bull-shit found on the 'Tube.

I'm providing a few Lasse videos, to pique your interest. There's a helluva lot more on YouTube of course, and you can hit him up on Myspace as well. Just think, if we had more directors like this behind videos and advertisements, or what have you, our lives might be (or at least seem) a little less boring. I wouldn't doubt that Gjertsen could even make Sarah-Jessica Parker or Cameron Diaz seem interesting. But then again, that's no short order to fill.

*In case you didn't know, that's a Wayne's World II reference... And I know you didn't know.

The Future Of Private Investigation As Revealed By Jonathan Lethem

Jonathan Lethem knows how to spin a 'purty' good yarn. Not unlike like Scott McClellan, I suppose. Although his most recent novel You Don't Love Me Yet (Doubleday, 2007), has been receiving some mixed reviews, I'd still like to check it out. Unfortunately, I've got a summer book list as long as Patrick Swayyze's dick (which I've heard is, like... long), but I'd like to squeeze this one in. Possibly right between the Kama-Sutra and Lolita. Weird, huh? However, I will, ever so highly, recommend checking out Gun, with Occasional Music (Harcourt Brace, 1994), Lethem's debut novel.

This book is completely fucking odd. As in Ridley Scott (pre- Russell Crowe) could have one hell of a field day with Gun if it were ever optioned. It stars a straight-thinking and quiro hero, Conrad Metcalf, a hard-boiled detective from the near-future, with the erogenous zones of a woman Metcalf could have been perfectly played, 20 years ago, by none other than a young and dreamy Kurt Russell (*sigh*). Alas, he's practically a senior citizen nowadays (at 56) but damn, if he's not just as dreamy(*sigh*). But, I digress. For reasons of expediency, here's Wikipedia's plot synopsis:

"Metcalf is hired by a man who claims that he's being framed for the murder of a prominent urologist. Metcalf quickly discovers that nobody wants the case solved; not the victim's ex-wife, not the police, and certainly not the gun-toting kangaroo who works for the local mafia boss."

Sounds intriguing right?

A few more teasers:

-Thanks to technology, children can become smarter and more cynical than adults; such children are known as baby-heads.

-Animals, too, can be given the intelligence of a human being through bioscientific techniques.

-Psychology is no longer viewed as a science , and psychologists behave like Jehovahs Witnesses, the Church of the Latter Day Saints and other itinerant proselytizing religions.

-Karma is also subject to transactions through portable debit cards.

So don't be a baby-head and take Gun, With Occasional Music out of your holster and start pluggin' away.


Bibliography:

• Amnesia Moon (1995)
• As She Climbed Across the Table (1997)
• Girl in Landscape (1998)
• Motherless Brooklyn (1999)
• The Fortress of Solitude (2003)

http://www.jonathanlethem.com/

The Judge Who Loved A Horse...

So what makes something underrated? How can one define it? Certainly, the notion of what's underrated (or overrated) manifests itself quite differently with all of us. Where I might say Sylvester Stallone is (though I probably wouldn't), you might say Angelina Jolie is (which you probably shouldn't). Maybe I feel John Fante is a colossally ignored author and maybe you think whoever it was that wrote The DaVinci Code is "totally badass." What I'm driving at is that we all have our little secret delights, our guilty pleasures; those "things" in life that no one seems to appreciate but you. Take the recent revelations of one Alex Kozinski, a Federal Judge of the 9th U.S. Circuit Court of Appeals (see inset) who apparently believes the idea of bestiality is underrated, and proved his undying devotion to the ill-appreciated art by posting a sweet, sweet video of a man, a horse, and the ensuing good time on his personal site. Of course this only makes me wonder: a) what have I been missing? and b) how have I not come to this same conclusion? Looks like ol' Judge Kozinski, also knowns as "Spanks With A Horse," his god-given Indian name, has been holding out on us (for shits and giggles, I'm sure). Maybe we're all holding out, but thanks to the inspiring example set forth by the good judge, I intend to promote my own treasured (and not so treasured) secrets for any who might care to know.

Obviously there are certain levels and different degrees of being under-appreciated, and these parameters can't be ignored when judging the criteria of underrated (or overrated) material. Let's take Indiana Jones, for example, since the Spielberg/Lucas franchise has become freshly relevant with the release of Indiana Jones and the Kingdom of the Crystal Skull. To fanboys, the Indiana Jones trilogy is top-notch Hollywood; heroic, macho cinema at its finest. To critics and less enthusiastic bastards the Jones series is nothing more than simplistic action stories set to the beat of a glorified treasure hunt. Another example; the music duo Ween. They could be classified as underrated, for rarely are the mentioned in mainstream circumstances, yet they have a massive cult fanbase who, at behest of the band, would eat their own family. Raw. I personally believe the measure of Ween's talent lays some where between a dried up, rotting, semen-filled, week-old condom and a really gnarly booger. Although I'm sure my ugly comments directed at this "whimsical" band will upset fans, that last statement might earn me my Rushdie-like fatwa I've so eagerly desired. So, to sum this point up: finding anything that can be universally agreed upon as underrated (or overrated) presents a problem nearly as difficult as trying not to scoop out your eyes with a melon-baller whenever Rosie O'Donnell waddles her happy ass on your television screen. Actually, that's an easy one. You melon-ball those bad boys.

But just like our old pal Judge Kozinski, there are a great deal of things, from books to ideas to three-toed sloths to yes, even bestiality (could sloth+sex= $$$!?!) that barely flicker on the general Joe-Shmo's radar. In some cases, it's because things can get clumped together, like the 80's "hair" band Faster Pussycat. These guys actually made some quality tunes in the latter part of the 1980's, but their status as a "hair" band (clumping!) keeps them relegated to a forlorn prison of spandex and hairspray. You don't have to pull a dramatic Cruiseian (as in Tom) maneuver if you give them a chance and decide they're worth more than two rat's asses, but you can take satisfaction in knowing you're experiencing something not too many can or ever do. Which is kickin' it with Faster Pussycat. Hell, even "Spanks With A Horse" was simply exploring some new avenues of entertainment which, understandably in his case, are often eschewed by the general public. But I for one would like to shake his hand. Unless that hand had just been wrapped around a nice, juicy horse shlong, in which case I'll just settle for a wink and a nod.

No doubt many of the things I'd like to discuss here will be seen (if ever seen at all) as silly, trivial, offensive, pathetic, down right goofy, et cetera. But hey, what's our existence worth if you can't piss somebody off or start a nasty argument every once in a while? I sure hope I can, here, on this puny, ridiculous blog. Maybe what I have to say is not as fun or stress-relieving (or sexy!) as bestiality, but it might be able to provide good, cheap, and guilty thrills, even if they are, at heart, only brief encounters with pleasure.

A Most Grand and Thrilling Introduction!

After careful and very deliberate consideration, I have decided, though most hesitantly, to join the blog world. If all these other jerk-offs are doing it, then I can do it too, and I think, maybe, better than most. (But I didn't say all!) Basically, I want to get back to writing. It is something I used to do quite passionately but has since been tossed carelessly in the garbage, along with many other "hobbies" (porn, midget wrestling, swashbuckling, etc.) or whatever the hell you want to call them. I have no desire to ramble on about my own boorish, useless and random daily thoughts (do bloggers even do that?) so I strive to compose with purpose, virility, and a minute dose of moral ambiguity. Once I had developed my "concept," if you will, I decided to cast my stones among the wizard's circle and forge the fires of Thor. Or what the fuck ever.
Essentially, I intend to concentrate on the underrated elements of life and art. Anything as wide and varied from vanilla ice cream, Kurt Russell, post-Taco-Bell farts and Keystone Light are possible subjects for deliberation (as they are all generally overlooked and undervalued). Any suggestions and/or contributions are welcomed of course, provided that you are right, which in turn is subject to my opinion. Yeah, I know, it's a vicious damn circle. As well, I would like to occasionally tackle overrated bullshit such as Madonna or whoever wrote the DaVinci Code.
So bear with me, any who read this, and I'm sure it's maybe one or two at the most, but I'm trying to bone up on any talent I might have swimming somewhere in my enlarged ego. My jokes may fail, my words not as clever as I'd like, and there is possibly (actually, undoubtedly) too much cynicism for one dumb blog, but hopefully I'll improve. Feel free to tell me what I'm doing wrong, as I am sure you could do it better. Wow. Sounds like someone I know.