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by Paul
Nov 19, 2007 10:42
I fucking hate the media. Primarily the news outlets.
Not the least of my reasons is the fact that most "news" these days is recycled from Reuters or the Associated Press. You can check newspapers in New York, Houston, Los Angeles, San Francisco, and Bumfuck Tennessee.
They're ALL carrying the same stories. Take a look at some of these outlets who show you when the story was first run, and when it was updated. Bet it was updated within a few hours. Then again the next day.
Why? Well because they're in such a rush to be first to get news that nobody cares about, they make all kinds of mistakes in the process. Nevermind the fact that none of these "reporters" can write a complete sentence to begin with. I can't tell you the number of times I've read a sentence like eight times only to go "Oohhhhh... wait. What? So did the zoo-keeper say that; or can the monkey talk?"
The other reason is that they're all pandering to stupid MTV related news. MTV--I'm more and more convinced--is the bane of American culture; but that's a topic that I could write a novel about; not a blog entry.
Exhibit A: Kanye Wests' Moms' Surgeons' Arrest Warrant.
Did you know this guy was news? Me neither. Read the article, and then come back.
Did you close it? Open it up again. Let's review.
First of all, after you get into this really deep read (all four paragraphs). No wait.. sentences. No wait... hey can one sentence be a paragraph? Sure. Every single time? Eh, probably not.
So what have we learned? Well... this guy who you didn't know before Kanye's mom died, had an arrest warrant. Because he killed Kanye's mom right? Wrong! They just put her name in there because... well let me know if you figure out why.
So anyway... he gets arrested. No wait... no he doesn't. Ok so there's a warrant out for his arrest. No. Wrong again. There WAS a warrant out, for maybe an hour. Before it was promptly cancelled because he showed up in court (but not for Kanye's mom, for something else entirely). Let's really make it POP though, by completely misleading people and putting her name in the title of the article. Then let's take a half day and high-five ourselves on the way to the Starbucks. Douche bags.
So once again, the Associated Press has informed us of... basically nothing. There was news... but then the news got cancelled. So screw it, let's run the story about how there is nothing to talk about.Hey, nobody's dying of AIDS in Africa or anything like that right?
by Paul
Nov 7, 2007 10:41
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With the Writers Guild in Hollywood. They're all pissed off because they're not getting enough royalties from other mediums, such as DVD sales, and mobile phones.
First of all... has anybody gone to the movies recently? What awesome stuff are they writing that warrants a raise?
I read an article today that included this:
Picketers used the show as an inspiration for their chants, which included the refrain "We write the story-a for Eva Longoria". |
| Rhyming "Story-a" with "Longoria". If that's the kind of writing I can expect, they can stay on strike. |
by Paul
Sep 11, 2007 10:40
Most of these goals I have tried really hard to try really hard at. One of these goals has been to get some babies named after me. Not my babies, mind you. Anybody can get a "junior." That's amateur night. I'm talking about friends, casual acquaintences, and total strangers.
Basically when I know a girl is pregnant I say, you know... Paul is a great name. I'm a great person, and my name is Paul. Do the math. There's an entire formula dedicated to it. I think it's called the theory of relativity. Clearly, you should name your kid Paul. However, this can be a tough sell for a couple of reasons. Firstly, most girls I know use another guy to get pregnant. This means some dude is going to feel like he's got a right to say the girl can't name the child after me. Obviously, it's just jealousy, but I digress.
The other speed bump is when the baby is going to be a girl. I think the only way you name your girl Paul is if she's going to grow up to be like... a super model. And let's face it ladies... look at the father; probably not going to happen.
A friend of mine pointed out the potential downside of having a "common" name. However his name is Brandon, so that doesn't count. Despite all his claims and denials, he's just as much a part of that trendy ass name as anybody else. That being said, he may have made a decent point. So, my new goal is to get my name tattooed on people. Honestly, it could even be on a dude; like Malcolm X. However I'd still prefer, guys... if you're on the fence... don't do it. Convince your girlfriend to. It just looks better for me. Come on, it's not THAT far-fetched. Somebody somewhere has Brad Pitt's name/face tattooed on them. Why Paul? Excuse you?! Why NOT Paul. If you can't answer that, then I think you need to make an immediate appointment at your local parlor.
You know what? Why stop there. There are only so many fonts you can get my name in, and you definitely want something unique. You want my face tattooed on you... AND your child. Put it on the child's back. I'll start putting up a variety of photos of me, for you all to choose from.
After my mug, put some text around it that says "If found, please return to this guy; but understand he's not accepting custody." At that point I'll probably get a Nobel prize for my continued efforts in solving missing children reports, and rescuing battered wives from uh... whatever it is they need rescuing from.I think it's black eyes.
by Paul
Aug 27, 2007 10:39
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that... wait. Ok, I HAD a dream. Last night. That dream is now over. Before I continue let me apologize for never updating this thing. It turns out I didn't have a single interesting event occur for 5 months in a row, while I was travelling in Burma. You may know it as Myanmar; but it will always be Burma to me. You may also know that even though I've been gone for a while, I can still plagiarize sitcoms with the best of them.
Moving on. No, moving back... to my dream.
In my dream, my friend and I go into a theater to see a fine sunday offering, on one of sixteen screens at the neighborhood Cine-plex. We're sitting there making various snarky remarks about the ads and previews that we're watching, when in walks this incredibly hot chick in a bikini, who procedes to sit down directly in front of me.
This happens in movie dreams all the time.
My friend and I however, are not the only people to notice how attractive this girl is. Note, we did not notice nor care that she was wearing a bikini; but that's beside the point. A couple of other guys two rows up from me (one from her), start hitting on her. She's visibly uncomfortable because of it, but tries to ignore the goings-on. I think I talked to her at some point. Maybe I dreamed it. Except I dreamed it in my dream. Whatever I did, it must have worked because somehow she turned around to share her displeasure with the situation. So I guess at some point, I had a conversation with her that I promptly forgot (which may indicate how I feel about women in general... unless you're hot and have a crush on me; in which case as far as you know I'm incredibly manly and sensitve at the same time). The other option is that my powers of telepathy exceed even my own comprehension and I just convinced her that she should talk to me based on pure thought, and possibly a ouijie board.
Anyway...
She decided she'd had enough; and that she was leaving. So, the hot chick stands up and walks out of the theater; ass cheeks just a-blowin' in the wind. Well ladies and gentlemen, Paul has had it. I stand up and I say to the guy with all the derogatory comments "What the F is your P?!" I think we all know what happened next. That's right, he replied. So I said... what? Oh you want to know his reply. That makes sense. He says "What the F did you just say?" Clearly my incredibly hip phrasing and slanguage was too much for this poor shmuck to deal with.
This is dragging out so let me wrap it up.
I challenge this guy to the only way to solve problems like men: fisticuffs.
It is at the point where the challenge was accepted, and he stood up to meet me in the aisle (possibly after school at 3:15pm), that I then came to the immediate realization (due to having perfect 20/20 vision) that this guy, is in fact, handicapped. That's correct. He is what's known in most circles as a cripple. "Oh the horror!", you're probably thinking. Well I've got news for you, Jack. This guy swung a MEAN crutch. Joke was on him however, because I caught the crutch in mid-swing. I then disarmed him, and socked him square in the face. That's the end of that chapter.
That accomplished, I turned and exited the theater to find this bikini girl. I managed to catch her right outside the theater door. She apparently took a break on the way out, or just walks really, REALLY slowly. I says "Hey! I took care of that guy in there so you can come back and watch the movie." She replies "Oh. Well I'm not really in the mood anymore so I think I'm going to go home anyway." That's fair enough; especially since I can now apply my mack in full force to ask this girl out. So I say, "oh that's probably for the best. Anyway... maybe I can give you a call sometime?" Her reply? "Maybe."
She then walks off. I walk back to the theater. No, I don't have her number.
So the moral of the story is... in my dream, where I basically have unequalled creative control of the project, I beat up handicapped people, and STILL get rejected by girls. You know, in a dream, I could beat up an entire army of steroid guys wielding shoulder-mounter nuclear rockets; because it's MY dream. Not me. I'm fighting guys with crutches. |
| With all that being said... let's not lose track of the frank truth here. I WON that fight with the guy on crutches, and don't you forget it. |
by Paul
Apr 16, 2007 10:38
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knows that I'm all about the music. Si, mas musica. I love a lot of stuff, and I hate even more. The difference is, when I love/hate music, I have a reason that's more explicit than "it sounds good." And no, not just one kind of music, but all kinds. Ok... most kinds. Heard it on myspace? I hate it. Ok, just kidding. Barely kidding, but kidding.
I'm analyzing the lyrics, the beats, the hooks. The post production. The length of the songs and how they fit into the overall arrangement of the album. I know, I know; you don't care. Tough.
To quote Bill Cosby, "Now, I told you that story to tell you this one."
I have to admit that my favorite genre tends to be rap. You've never heard it on the radio though, trust me. Sometimes the lyrics are hard to understand because of the slang, cadence, and styles of different rappers. If you listen to it enough though, it becomes a second language that you just understand without thinking about it. Even slang you've never heard before, you can translate based on the context of how it was used.
This brings me to my point: the uh... screaming music. You know, I think it's rock or metal of some sort; which is just another kind of rock to begin with (queue the haters). Don't lie, you all know that's where metal came from. Here's my thing though: I have no frickin' clue what any of those lead singers are saying. I just know they're upset about something(s).
It's not like rap where I pointed out that enough exposure helps you understand lyrics. I can't understand what he's saying because he's screaming! Have you ever had a small child run up to you crying? You're like "Hey! Man! Shit. You're going to have to calm down before I can help you pal. Take a deep breath." You have to get them to stop screaming before they talk so you even have a prayer. Let's not forget, it's hard enough to understand a child even if they're stone cold sober, what with all the loose teeth and lisps.
That's not the point. The singer and his band are free to scream and play music all they like; I'm not here to hate.
Look, I even know why he's upset. I know how you crazy teenagers are. If your friend likes something, you like it too. You hang around the same group of adolescents long enough and you're all the same person. Don't say "Not me", because it's you too. Especially you. So, it's pretty clear to me that your friend liked the Guy Screams CD, and after hearing it in his room while you smoked weed enough times, you liked it too.
Trust me dude, we've all been there; yes you too.
Now, that's your excuse. What about your friend's excuse though? I've explained how the other millions of people became fans of Guy Screams and the sophomore effort Guy Screams Harder and Slightly Differently; but what about the very first guy who liked it? Nobody just wakes up one day and says "You know what would kick ass... music where the singer doesn't sing" (ironically making him not a singer at all).
There's only one explanation for that guy's reasoning, and that's that nobody loves him. |
| Well, I guess that's why the singer is so upset. |
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