Adjustment

I dunno, since, as I update this blog very infrequently and I have generally nothing of any general interest to say, I can confidently stride into blogville, pull out my e-six shooter and fire off round after round down the streets and hear nothing but oooeeoooeeoooo wah-wah-wah, I will be blunt.

There is no way that a person can be well-adjusted. There is no way that a person can walk around in America and be comfortable. There is no way that a person can work in a place of business and not be fucked over by some image coming through over the radar dish, telling them to buy a blender that can make cooking ten times easier. That's just the breaks. It just makes me feel sad that there are huge swaths of our fine country (I live in the United States of America, FYI) that are simply too poluted to walk the streets in. I mean, its not that people don't do it. But those people generally don't have a choice. I mean, there are parts of the Bronx where grafiti is just a natural bi-product of the oxygen/brick chemical reaction. Sad but true.

Fact: Old people in Spain who live far up in the northern mountains are getting satellite dishes installed on their sun-baked tile rooves. Good work, Hollywood. You got a real buyer there. Those people are going to keep the media industry rolling. But the joke is on you, Rupert Murdoch, because as soon as a cut rate satellite dish company comes out, they are going to be all over that like dieters to angel's food cake cookies.

Fact: Swedes on cruises from Helsinki to Stockholm love to read Danielle Steele novels translated into Swedish. That's right, they have Danielle now. And we thought we had her all to ourselves. Jokes on us, she was playing us. This whole time... No I'm not crying, these are sweat glands under my eyes. They just get inflamed sometimes.

Fact: Europe is named after a cow.

Fact: I am pretty much out of facts.

Fact: I have discovered that you don't need to have any facts to write sentences that are explanatory. You just need a linking verb.

Oh yeah, so I was saying that its really impossible for a person to be adjusted to a society like this one (once again, I refer to the USA). You have to remember, if nothing else, that this is a society built on not adjusting. Look around you and you will see everywhere the cracks in the facade. (Full Disclosure: the previous sentence was stolen indirectly from Jean Baudrillard). Anyhow, my point is this: we are not in an "adjustment" society. People are all too happy to change themselves in various ways and then celebrate (through sever punishment) their rapid, often dangerous swings back to their natural selves. We are a self-medicating, self-help, self-service, self-support group society that selfishly self-annhilates through a suffocating inundation of garbage. And I love it!

No, really, I do. I mean, there are moments when I wonder how people got to be so blind to the world outside of their heads. But then I just go home and put on the TV and all that wondering just goes away! Like Magic! But in the end, I still love America, not for the people ,but for the dogs, because American dogs are very straightforward, amiable creatures. If you piss them off, they let you know. If you feed them, they become lasting friends, and if you come home from a horrible day they don't hold it against you.

Oh who am I kidding, this is a farce! This whole thing is a farce! Oh dear lord! Why are we one phase away from revolution but always revolving back into FAO Schwartz?! Why are we forever listening to the same muzak (copyright, muzak corporation not retained for this usage, all pending lawsuits should be filed with my lawyer Aaron Abramowitz (disclaimer: may not be a real lawyer, or if real may not know who I am))? Anyhow, let me say this: I am not against making a buck, even though I know someone had to die or get needlessly exploited so that that buck could be worth something. I can tell you this, I like being able to come home to a warm house at night and sit in front of a glowing piece of plastic and move my hands while little shapes appear in the two-dimmensional space before my eyes.

Aww shucks. Now, I'm blushing.

Map of the online world

I haven’t blogged in a while.  Today, I look at my email and I realize that I am just a drop of water in the ocean of bloggers.  I am my own drop, but to you, fair reader, I am still merely one of many.

That is why I say to you, fairest, dearest reader, go out and read.  Read like you have never read before.  Read from voices both shrill and syrupy, read from the blogs of blogger and the live journals of livejournal.  Read and absorb people.  Do not simply absorb text, think about who we are as a people.  If you are a parent you should know that now 57% of teens have created web content, either a blog or a website.  This is the sort of thing that gives a person pause.  It makes you wonder.

Let me please wonder aloud for a brief instant.  We have an online society now.  A database of people’s thoughts, methods, and attitudes that only seems to grow.  We have moved beyond just cataloguing websites and have moved on to tagging things.  This is an entry about people, teens, society, the internet, livejournal, Google (in the age of tags, one must name-drop).  Beyond this, though, we are in a time in which perspective over the internet will be a hot commodity.

Thomas Friedman, oh emblem of American “internationalism” (by this I mean, Americans who talk about things outside of the borders of the United States, however reductively), yes, I daresay, THE Thomas Friedman, has deemed our world now “flat.”  Whatever the merits of this point, I can say this: a web-resource that permits people to see, perhaps in an interactive graphic, a map of online content would be far from remiss.  It would downright rock.  I would love to be able to scour the world of graphic designers’ websites in a format that allows me to localize them.  Mouse over a part of a roadmap and a tree of design sites flowers before your eyes.

At this instant, by articulating this idea, this simulacrum of a web-experience, I am anticipating, as Baudrillard might comment, that there is already something or somebody attempting to fulfill the parameters of this fantasy and that I can probably find such a website although it almost certainly wont be what I have envisioned, unless someone has gotten ahold of a wide array of detritus and made bitmaps of them.  Clown costumes, mounted antlers, rings and teeth dug up from peoples’ backyards, you know, all the good stuff.

So fulfill my damned simulacrum, people.  Do it!  Do it now!!!!!

And email me the link when you’re done.

Anyhow, I still dig reality.  Sometimes too much.

My website

Here's my site. My spanktaculous new website (Which is unfortunately lacking in quality) I know. I know. It sucks. don't you just wish that it were good? I really wish it was good. I really want a better website for you to enjoy, but I can hardly say that there is anything worth enjoying about this. Or at least nothing that could elicit a guffaw, chuckle, or whatever kind of noise would be applicable to something pleasantly stimulating.

I love it.

And that is not my real signature.

I have a lot of work to do before I am as good as those other bloggers, all 20 million of them. Its just a big old blog-filled spirogyro out there. People write about all sorts of spackle and shine. The spine of our society is quickly becoming virtual. Let us all now pray that someone comes up with some sort of good way to blog.

Blog, what a damned nuissance of a word. Why not Lork or Brom or Molx. I like Molx. Its catchy and human. People are animals, remember. I am typing on this keyboard with fingers, and to me this is surreal. Perhaps this is the hallucinogens speaking, but I think that man is somehow out of his league when attempting to discourse with machines. I mean, we have a lot more in common with gorillas. But you don't see so many people staring at Gorillas and pushing their buttons. Well, actually, I guess that's what zoos are for.

But the point is this: computers are full of joyous zeros and ones. According to the human genome project, now we too are full of jumpin' zeros and ones. There is a stinking vein of crap in this logic. It is very fetid. Veeeeeery fetid. After all, let us consider the facts: I am wearing a shirt, and according to the matrix this is composed of zeros and ones. According to reality this was a garment composed by Chinese and Mexican women and children who have gotten blisters and have been hungry. According to the matrix this has something to do with the mechanical monsters that are feeding on all of our bodies.

Say what?

I guess I am on the side of the evil robots.

That is why my zeros and ones are not as joyous as are those of the hacker in Prague who is drinking a mochachino on the Charlesbridge and watching me type this (virtually).

But by the time he reads this, I will already be a better blogger than his mother!

Oh dissss!!

Wait, why is my keyboard failing?

What's happening to my zeros and ones?!

NoooOOOooo!!!!