Something I Hate...19...and Final.

I hate the idea that balloons are still considered a commercial draw, even though you're an adult.

Case in point, the car dealership. Never in my live have I seen a 30-foot gorilla in a business suit and thought: "Man, I need to buy a car". I have thought: "Man, that would be cooler if it were fighting a balloon dinosaur in a Santa costume". And please, don't even remind me of the zany dancing balloons that look like they're getting tortured.

Alright, I know there has been a hiatus and that the original plan was one 'hate' a day until Christmas. However, I hate when an idea has run it's course and yet still doesn't stop. Like '24', the formula is dead, we don't need it any longer yet here comes a new season. Though I had a fun time hating, the idea of posting every day became bleak and more like a chore. I hate chores.

In another note...I lent someone my season one of Arrested Development and I don't remember to whom. If you're the lucky person, you have bested me and either you win a free set of digital video disks with the entire first season of a fine show, or you can return them and win my smile.

Something I hate...18

I hate that these toys were never actually made:

Something I Hate...17

I hate conversations that take place in person but over great distances and in public places.

College campuses are the worst place for this.

Something I Hate...16

I hate when people say: git-r-done.

It is offensive to my sense of propriety, taste, and humor. It wasn't funny when the original comic coined the phrase, and it isn't funny or appropriate in daily situations...especially at work.

You: "Hey I am going to go _______" (whatever it is you do).
Other: "Nice. Git-r-done". (said with a southern accent though he/she isn't from the south)
You: *cringe*

Something I Hate...15

I hate that laser is spelled with an 's' and not a 'z'.

Laser beam, one of the great English word combinations and it is cheapened by the laser's inability to execute full onomatopoeia status.

Science has really let us down.

Something I Hate...14

I hate the personalized vanity license plate.

If I wanted to be playing Mad Gab whilst on the road I would have bought the pocket version. Somehow this became the champion expressive outlet for those who want all to know they love tulips. Or, while driving a VW Bug with a VW logo, they feel the sharp craving for redundancy and exclaim, in an odd spelling, that they are driving...wait for it...a VW Bug.

It is this kind of social activism that makes this so very country great.

Something I Hate...13

I hate running into an old acquaintance at the grocery store.

You see them and exchange salutations, awkward interruptions as you both try to ask how the other is doing simultaneously, and miserable silences followed by cricket noises and an abrupt parting of ways. You then re-see them and then re-see them and then try to skip an aisle to not re-see them only to see them because they thought of the same 'uncomfortable avoidance trick' as you, and you both feel thwarted and forced, once again, to laugh uncomfortably at the serendipitous meeting, and to say: "See ya later". Which, of course, you will down aisle 12.

The aisle is your bane; it, at once, offers you substance for a price and impedes your getaway.

Something I hate...12

I hate these:





Well, Jesus is always with us...

Something I Hate...11

I hate the face people make whilst trying not to show they are yawning.

I could find no documented evidence to demonstrate what this looks like, but it is real and ungodly. I saw it on a man I admired greatly; he studied at Oxford, understood the thoughts of Søren Kierkegaard, David Hume, Immanuel Kant, and other great minds with the greatest of ease, he admired Steely Dan, he would eschew responsibility for a time to read Walden as a boy, but even he looked foolish trying to conceal his yawn during a particularly horrid oral report on ethics.

I know you have all seen it. The face contorts to a aberrant look with nostrils at full flare red from the strain, eyes watering but not spilling over while the eyelids struggle, blinking at almost Mach speed in attempts to stay open. The mouth, oh the poor mouth, it's stretched like a piece of plastic wrap over too many left-overs trying beyond hope to keep the black of the cavern behind from seeing light.

Of course this is an exercise in futility. You're not really fooling anyone as you sit in that boring meeting and your boss is looking right at you when you feel the desire to yawn hit. "Mustn't let mouth open...must fight urge...must prevail above desire for more oxygen...". Silly.

It begs the question: What is worse, a yawn, or the freakish face made while trying to masquerade that you're not yawning?

Something I Hate...10

I hate beaded doorways.

Unless you're trying to ninja proof a room, make traversing through your home a gauntlet of tentacles that leech onto any loose part of clothing and cling there forcing you to abruptly stop mid stride, or a hippie, these are utterly pointless.

There is no normal walk that will get you through one either. A body coming through these beads is forced to duck down and plow through head first, which is reminiscent of the birthing process; no one I know wants to see a grown man be born through a bead womb. And, good luck if you have your hands full. Walking into a room ass first, I am sure in some in cultures is acceptable, but that isn't a nicety that I know of. Seeing a butt, no matter how large or skinny it is, breach through the beads first like the back of two parallel whales breaking the water's surface, is uncouth.

Something I Hate...9

I hate hearing Beatles songs on commercials.

Not that I think that it really wasn't the intention of McCartney and Lennon to write jingles, and that Hello, Goodbye -- or Hello, Goodbuy --really is meant to help sell Target's excellent selection of, well, everything, but it has gotten to be gross. Damn you Michael Jackson.

"If it's allowed to happen, every Beatles song ever recorded is going to be advertising women's underwear and sausages. We've got to put a stop to it in order to set a precedent. Otherwise it's going to be a free-for-all. It's one thing you're dead, but we're still around! They don't have any respect for the fact that we wrote and recorded those songs, and it was our lives." -George Harrison November 1987

Something I Hate...8

I hate the 1994 song Jesse by Joshua Kadison.



She asks me how the cat's been. I say, "Moses he's just fine
but he used to think about you all the time.
We finally took your pictures down off the wall.
Oh, Jessie, how do you always seem to know just when to call?"
She says, "Get your stuff together. Bring Moses and drive real fast."
And I listen to her promise, "I swear to God this time it's gonna last."

With lyrics that poignant, nothing more need be said.

Something I Hate...7

I hate people who make music from trash.

Seriously, it's enough to put me off ever throwing anything away...ever. I would please like some assurances from my local government that the next time I toss an old frying pan in the garbage, it's not going to turn up on stage a month later being used as a high-hat by some smelly weirdo in a sleeveless top.

Because it's always a sleeveless shirts with these people.

Something I Hate...6

I hate the Euro Jean.

I mean good grief pal, I know we're all (mostly the new, fatter, me) struggling to find decent jeans at the moment, with the whole skinny-fit thing, but, ask yourself are they really the best you could do? Do these even qualify a decent pair? Do you really feel they are appropriate attire for any occasion that involves going outside of your flat?

Euro jeans, these in particular, embody all that is wrong, and all that can be wrong, about a set of trousers: stonewashed, covered in pockets, slightly tapered, missing only zippers in inappropriate places to make them truly horrid. These jeans are so monumentally disparaging they provide the clearest evidence this theist has seen of a perhaps godless and infinitely cruel universe.

Perhaps a mantra for the EU could be: Stonewashed combat jeans, unless the desired affect is looking like a rogue soldier lost in society since he left the urban war set in the fashionless 80's, are not okay.

Something I Hate...5

Rollerblading. I hate it.

I hate absolutely everything about it. Let us sit together and garner what is sacrificed by those who dare to don blades that roll.

Grace: gone
Dignity: so very gone
Grandeur: retired
Feasibility of negotiating terrain in mild to strong wind: vanished
Bragability that you look good in spandex: squandered
Remembrance that fanny packs are not a good idea: dissolved
Time spent looking cool: lost
Deniability that you long for the 90's: dead
Thinking fun can be had sans knee/elbow pads: gonzo

To think there are professionals of something so ludicrous outside a circus is the bitterest pill of them all.

Something I Hate...4

I hate audience participation.

Trust me, I am not a mighty man, but may God help you if you are between me and the door when a speaker starts walking my way to try and make me to participate in any way; I will bite your face. I don't care one whit who you are -- Ghandi, Megatron, The Queen, Prince Charming -- if you come at me with that microphone and try to drag me up on stage, I'll drop you. I will honestly scratch a small child's eyes out before I get up on that stage to dance the Macarena or play charades.

And Mr. Speaker-man, don't even think about trying to manipulate me with the whole "Come on ladies and gentlemen, give him a bit of encouragement" malarkey, I will end you.

Something I Hate...3

I hate the R&Beard. I am referring to those sliver thin laser beards favored by the modern singer of soul; I'm telling you there isn't an bona fide manly beard in the genera.

The subliminal message of the R&Beard: "I am a man of vast and independent wealth and massive means (wink wink). Unlike regular people with normal beards, I don't need to work a nine-to-fiver. Thusly, I am able to devote inordinate amounts of time to face maintenance; specifically the molding and etching of these exquisite fancy whiskers. Ladies, if you are impressed with my skills with a pair of electric clippers, be prepared to have your world shaken to it's core."

Something I Hate...2

I hate that for some reason, Tim Allen is Hollywood's go to guy for Christmas movies. I know that in his trilogy of kitsch he replaced Santa, but why must Hollywood try to bring this to fruition in real life? Why must Tim and Christmas become inexorably linked?

Arnold did only one. Matthew Broderick, Will Ferrell, they both knew to draw the line at one as well. Ben Affleck, tinsel town's main choice for all movies that suck, had enough sense to only do one. BEN AFFLECK.

I guess that if Christmas with the Cranks had never been made then I wouldn't really have as much enmity; but couple the camp of John Grisham with seeing Tim Allen talking holiday...lethal.

Something I Hate...1

This idea is not so much inspired by, or in response to my cute wife's desire to post something she is grateful for everyday this month. It is mostly because this holiday season is often the equivalent to the miniature dog with the high-pitched bark that won't realize that I am a friend and stop barking and running around ignoring it's owner that I have decided to hate something daily until Christmas. Granted it is more than a month away, but let's see if I have enough rancor in me to spread.

Hated item 1:

The perceived sexiness of the saxophone.

I don't know how the idea was started or how it spread, but it almost entangled me in it's nasty web of deceit. I almost joined the band in my impressionable middle school years to play this instrument in attempts to counteract the massive amounts of lame that would follow me around like an angry doldrum raining only on me. It fills me with much anger/annoyance that somewhere a committee, without me on it, made the executive decision to make the saxophone the sexy music instrument; there should have been at least one dissenting vote on the record.

the myth:













the truth:

Friends of Our Souls

Perhaps I am boring, but I don't visit mystical realms as much as I used to. If I did this auspicious site would be my mecca. If you decide to see what I mean and be transported to a magical realm via a sprite drawn carriage to a tea party in Centaur Groves to discuss Unicorn Dreams, be sure to scroll down and visit each site dedicated to our favorite fantastical friends.

Favorite quote thus far: Besides their alarm "sneeze," unicorns have a variety of other calls or signals that they use for communication.

My favorite activity the site offers. Oodles of nougat filled bliss.

My Obsequious Manner Towards False Gods

I have a highly addictive personality...woe to me. Every once and a while this ugly addiction troll rears it's bestial mug and I am a goner; gone gone. The current smack in charge of my days and nights: Halo 3. My poor wife is in deep hate with my love affair with this game and I can't blame her. I have very adult things that need to take place in my immediate future that currently lay injured and dehydrated against the curb as I continue in my vain quest to slay as many as possible. I am weak. It doesn't help that I have friends, or enablers, that link up with me via the internet with and we join forces like unto Voltron to save the universe together. Ahhh, good times.

I need to grow the hell up..............well.....I need to find a happy mean.


And as though the Gods of Gaming weren't demanding enough of a sacrifice, they just released Guitar Hero III. Damn them. Now I must bow before the Gods of Rawk as well, and they are a far crueler master. The enabler in this instance is the set list. It has been populated with far more fine tuneage then the previous games. A smattering of some favorites:

Paint It, Black – The Rolling Stones
The Seeker – The Who
Paranoid – Black Sabbath
My Name Is Jonas – Weezer
Even Flow – Pearl Jam
Welcome to the Jungle – Guns N' Roses
The Number of the Beast – Iron Maiden
One – Metallica
Reptilia – The Strokes
Cities on Flame with Rock and Roll – Blue Öyster Cult

Give me strength fair friends. I need it. I can't imagine what would happen if I ever owned a Wii.

Game Over.

All Hallows Eve

Today I traded my old XBOX for a new fly rod and reel. No trick. All treat. So beware fishies in some part of eastern Idaho to be designated later by Joe...you will soon caught, looked at, admired, photographed, smiled upon, dehooked, set free, and alive -- but late for something. I am coming like Ichabod's bane.

This has nothing to do with Halloween.

Trumpet Lasers

At long last, finally something that makes Lucas' bastardizations to the original trilogy seem less horrific.


Enjoy this until I think of something more interesting to say.

Divulgence II

I have seen Robin Hood Prince of Thieves far far far more than any other movie. Unfortunately this is true. I wish I could say that something less ambiguously gay (totally gay, actually) holds the top spot, but at this juncture I would need to watch Empire Strikes Back a few dozen more times. Though I love film V, I just don't know if I have the mustard. The Prince of Theives number is that powerful and all encompassing.

Aside from cold sores, this fact is the most embarrassing product of a misspent youth.

"To the trees!"

Man-Boy

Being an adult is hard. I am very lazy.

Change is hard. Again, I am very lazy.

Crap.

Shuffle

I hit 'shuffle songs' on my iPod today. These are the first few gems it spat back at me:

Carry That Weight -- The Beatles
Ecstasy -- Rusted Root
1% of Monster -- Mogwai
We've Been Had -- The Walkmen
Measuring Cups -- Andrew Bird
Jezebel -- Iron & Wine
Kid A -- Radiohead
Feel It Now -- Black Rebel Motorcycle Group
Paint It Black -- The Rolling Stones
Place To Be -- Nick Drake
Put You down -- Alice In Chains
Everybody Wants To Rule the World -- Tears for Fears
Dinner Bell -- They Might Be Giants
Going to California -- Led Zeppelin
Of Herbs and Rabbit Stew -- J.R.R. Tolkien
Blessed Persistence -- 16 Horsepower
Bittersweet -- Big Head Todd & the Monsters
Dissident -- Pearl Jam
Just Like You Imagined -- Nine Inch Nails
Mitch in the S'th -- Mitch Hedberg
Missile -- Blonde Redhead

I recommend trying this. Many songs have found a home on my iPod. However, far more have been as neglected as my laundry. Sad. Some songs have even found the hipster white encasing to be their coffin slowly suffocating them into an almost nonexistence. They lay there, buried alive in the massive 60GB of space, waiting to be unearthed. I have found if you personify something, it is harder to treat the thing like a mere thing. Hence the periodic shuffling of songs. I try to give over-played songs a breather, a well deserved respite from the daily grind. I try to bench my starters (I have no business using a sports analogy) and put in my second string. I feel that I am perhaps fulfilling the dreams of little songs who are sleeping in cobwebs and dust waiting for their time to bring da noise and perhaps, if they are ready, da funk.

Dichotomy

No One Wants To Play Sega with Harrison Ford" by Brandon Bird

I prefer:

• Coke over Pepsi
  
• Star Wars over Star Trek
  
• school over work
  
• XBOX over Playstation
  
• movies over TV
  
• scooter over car
  
• beards as an unassuming facial accessory over beards as a piety meter
  
• fishing over swimming
  
• rivers and lakes over the ocean
  
• Colorado over the other 49
  
• train over plane
  
• orange juice over other juice
  
• Letterman over Leno
  
• Conan O. over both
  
• Ninjas over Samurai
  
• hands over feet
  
• René Magritte over Salvador Dali
  
• soccer over football
  
• futbol over soccer
  
• running over stationary bike
  
• weighing 170 lbs over weighing 190
  
• iPod over Zune
  
• unicorns over horses
  
• St. Vitus Cathedral over Notre Dame
  
• James Frey over Oprah
  
• freckles over moles
  
• argyle over plaid
  
• old Shins over new Shins
  
• money clips over wallets
  
• salsa over guacamole
  
• nerd over geek
  
• high-five over low-five
  
• "okay" hand signal over thumbs up
  
• Lord of the Rings over Narnia
  
• casual over business casual
  
• Apple over PC
  
• sitting over standing
  
• The Beatles over all
  
• function over form
  
• stepping in poop with deep treaded boots over southern California
  
• Valerie over James
  
• art deco over art nouveau
  
• walkie-talkies over cell phones
  
• four seasons over two
  
• old friends over new people

ad nauseum

Luthier

Blindfolded, you may not be able to tell. I don't think I could. Make no mistake however, just because I am no expert at discerning acoustic guitars sans sight does it mean that I don't have strong feelings about the subject. Let it be known that I appreciate a fine guitar, no matter it’s creator. In this case the creators being either Martin or Taylor. That being said, if the head stock isn't crested with CF Martin 1833 insignia then I say pass. Pass. Pass. Pass.

This may be what a man named G called an irrational loyalty. That holds a high probability. But, while both makers create instruments that sing as though strummed by winged cherubim, I still have a difficulty considering Taylors in the same league. It is Martin's artistry that teeters the scale. Their innovations to the craft: x-bracing, 14-fret finger boards, and the dreadnought body style, are used by all steel stringed acoustic luthiers. This places these other craftsmen inexorably linked to Martin like modern Christianity is to Catholicism. Also, each Martin instrument is hand crafted. Taylor uses computers and lasers to cut each instrument. Each Taylor is perfect for it. However, the flaws intrinsic with all things hand made appeal to my common folk sensibilities and offer a feeling individuality, of owning a unique instrument. Which is why my money and heart belong to C.F. and crew.

It may be irrational. Martin was my first guitar so perhaps the allegiance I feel to them can be traced to that. Yet, I had the choice then and chose hand made.

Twist & Shout

This post is teems with spoilers. Reader beware.

I mean no conceit but pulling a fast one on me via film is a bit tricky. I am rarely surprised. When I am, it is a welcomed and fun occasion. This is one reason I despise spoilers. You are never able to go back to the purity of not knowing what happens. That initial shock when a movie twists right from underneath you and lands you on your head is a once in a life time occurrence. Then the magic is gone and it will never be viewed again with untainted eyes. No matter how enjoyable subsequent views are, that knowledge has affected you ever after. I can only imagine, for example, what it was like to hear for the first time in the theater that Luke is Vadar’s son. Jaws agape. Eyes bugged. Minds boggled, only able to comprehend an expletive phrase deifying poop. Priceless. This is why also I appreciate movies that are able to pull the proverbial wool over my eyes and then slap my face with it at the end. I have thusly complied a list of my favorite movies with a twist. I am sure I will miss many.

Planet of the Apes.
The planet is Earth. I still don't get it. I never saw it coming....even a little.





Prestige.
I actually figured this one out, but not completely. A beautiful movie. The revelation that Bale's character has been a twin the whole time is genius. The biggest clue was when he told us how it was being done but in reference to the Chinese man's "Goldfish Trick": he lives his whole life that way. Stellar.


Sixth Sense.
Trixy. Well crafted and brilliant. The wife never really talks to him. He is in the same clothes the whole time. Subtle and trixy. Watching for the clues the second time through was almost as fun as watching it for the first time.

Usual Suspects.
Brilliant. The story woven from items seen in the room. Verbal Kint is Keyser Söze. That, coupled with the line: "The greatest trick the Devil ever pulled was convincing the world that he didn't exist." makes this one of the greats.


Fight Club.
The clues are there and obvious (obviously) the second time through, but sweet cheetah did this one toss me. Well played all involved, Chuck in particular.



Empire Strikes Back.
Sadly like most people, I grew up knowing this. If I were gifted three wishes I would waste one to go back and have been there in 1980 to witness and feel the shock of it all. (I was there, but at two I only remember being scared at the abominable snow creature.) It is the best movie twist ending, period.

Dreams Do Come True

The sweet fruits of perseverance:

A Smattering of Nerd

CHOMP???






















































Handy. (*snicker*)


Patchouli?
















Why Prozac should come in a kryptonite gelcap.




































The crossing of Gillilllll's universe and mine.