My views on politics, life, death, the army, and other things too miscellaneous to mention here. This is a personal blog. This blog is 100% factual.
Bill Duckwing
Poet, Author, Journalist
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Your Super-Cute Daily Terror Alert Update Will Be Forevermore:
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"There are some myths and untruths surrounding the role God plays in our daily lives. To say that religion and politics do not mix, is certainly a myth, unless you ask a liberal. Anything that affects a Christian (and voting is one of them) — enters into the religious realm. Trying to separate the two is like trying to separate oil from a glass of water, it's impossible to do. "
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Thursday, August 28, 2003
Dean for America!
I humbly endorse Howard Dean to be the next President of the United States.
If you wish to formally knock all of the other candidates out the the water right now, I seriously suggest contributing to his campaign right now, before the next fundraising quarter closes.
He's going to win this fundraising thing anyway, but the question is how decisive you want to make it!
I've already contributed my humble $25. If I can do it, you can too.
-duckwing, at 12:29 AM
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Wednesday, August 27, 2003
A Modern Tale Somewhat True-to-Life About Biscuts and Newspapers
I can't really take full credit for this story, but I was influenced by it, enough so that I can recount it as my own experience, and the relate the moral of how much it sucks when you brain fart and miss the smaller details.
I travel a lot, business class, and like to frequent the airport coffee shop while I'm making my rounds, before getting my car rental and attending my conference, meeting, or what have you. Airports always convey a sense of familiarity for me, because airports are the only place in the world that don't change too much from city to city. There's always a newstand, a cheesy chain restaurant, and a coffee shop nearby...
When I arrived at this particular coffee shop, I ordered what I always get -a cup of tea, a newspaper, and a package of biscuts. I pick up the newspaper, usually the Times, to do the crosswords, while I sip on my tea, and eat from my tray of biscuts. I think that the Post usually tries to be too cute, so I tend to stay away from it.
Okay, so are you with me -Times, tea, biscuts. Nothing out of the ordinary here. Just a Southern Gent on a break, trying to gear up in the back of his mind about a meeting, but trying to relax with the familiar.
The coffee shop was set up cafeteria style, so that there were nothing but long tables surrounded by chairs. I was busy, packed with early morning business class, so I had no choice but to sit down across from another guy at the table. So I sat down, setting my tea down on my right, my crossword sprawled over the table, and my tray of biscuts front and center.
So I'm sitting at the table, studying my crosswords -the first clue is a tough one. I take a sip of tea. And out of the corner of my eye, as I'm setting down my cup of tea, is that this guy across from me is picking up my package of biscuts, opening the wrapper. I'm almost gasping here, but I try not to notice, and I play it cool -stare at my crossword puzzle sprawled out before me.
I am further floored when this guy takes out a biscut and begins to put it in his mouth, chewing it reflectively. This time I eye the guy reflexively, but he doesn't do a take on me. He just pretends that nothings out of the ordinary, but I can feel that this guy wants some sort of confrontation. I go back to my crossword.
But now I can't even comprehend the clues. What's going on here? I reach over and take a biscut from the package, and bring it to my mouth in an attempted absent-minded fashion. But the tension here is thicker than the air.
I look up for a brief second -and catch the guy looking at me. Just for a second, but that's all I need for a read. He's fucking with me -no doubt about it. And all this time I'm thinking -man, just ask. I'll let you have a biscut, if you really need food or something. I mean, I know it's tough with the recession and stuff, that maybe expense accounts aren't what they used to be. Just ask, I'd be more that happy to...
But all these thoughts disperse, when the guy goes ahead and takes another biscut out of the package. I return studiously to my crossword puzzle -the clues and are rapidly turning into abstract nonsense. It's like I suddenly became dyslexic. I can't even look at the guy, but am too afraid to leave my seat. Maybe he's a maniac -a Dalmer like freak only waiting for an opportunity to invite me to his room at the local airport Marriot to "settle this issue." Or maybe a performance artist.
I go ahead and take the last biscut. A momentary and fleeting moment of joy! I got it -I got the last biscut. This is my moment -the last impression. The impression that says -"hey, I'm not intimidated by assholes like you." This biscut tastes better than the last one. The guy looks around the cafe in a kinda lost sort of way, looking for another victim no doubt -and finding none, he at last gets up. I say in my head, "Yeah, why don't you try the shuttle terminal, you bastard!"
I take another sip of tea, and try to get back to my crossword. No such luck, for although I seem cured of my dyslexia, I can't really get over what just happened. The nerve. I fold up my newspaper.
And underneath my newspaper, I discover my unopened package of biscuts lying on the table...
I look up. The guy is looking at me, just as he's about to exit the cafe.
"You stupid fucking asshole!!!" the guy screams at me as I'm sitting dumbfounded at the package of biscuts.
I look up, and see the guy in slow motion turn to me, eyes bulging, face twisted. He was just about to leave. And then I see him pull someting out of his coat, a small black shiny thing, and then I feel six hits in the chest, and the entire room jumping at attention. And then I see no more.
I am able to relate this story to you now, only because you have elected to summon me here at this trendy and highly avant-garde seance, through your highly talented medium, Tiffany. I am here, Lea, your dead husband, Frank. And now I have been able to relate this story to you. I hope you don't think any less of me.
This post dedicated to the dearly departed Douglas Adams. Thanks for all the fish.
-duckwing, at 11:38 PM
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Bush/Cheney in 2004
Check the website out right here. And make sure you donate!
Also, just in case you ever doubted that every possible idea under the sun has already been done and marketed on the internet, look at this.
-duckwing, at 9:32 PM
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Am I getting a little too Colloquial?
The Apple Coda is always going to be kinda polemic. You're either going to really love this site, or you're really going to hate it. I guess it kind of depends on how sarcastic and cynical you are in your life. Or maybe how you react to sarcasm and cynicism, as well as how well you react to American culture. I accept that. But I do sometimes wonder if my latest stuff tends to get a little too silly for it's own good.
I definately have been trying to overdo the style this month. If it bugs the people that read the Apple Coda regularly, I won't be worried too much if I hear the feedback. If it's all good, then don't worry about it. I'll keep plugging away -same as it ever was...
But anyway, enjoy the new look to the site (kinda -actually it's just more consistant, rather that different). And if you've never been here before, just go crazy. Enjoy it for all it has to offer.
Crazy story concerning biscuts tomorrow, guys...
-duckwing, at 12:19 AM
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Tuesday, August 26, 2003
Problem Fixed
Like magic! (see previous post)
-duckwing, at 10:37 PM
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Trying to Resolve Some Blogger Problems
I resolved some of the major problems with the "archives" section of my Front page. My archives will be published on a monthly basis from now on, and I also cleared up the linking to a completely different page to view my archives problem. Which is good. And it really wasn't that tough. But now there's another problem.
The archives links on the Front Page send you over to my old "bad" front page, with the same old problems. Including a funny picture of some middle-aged guy making compost, a picture that I included in my "Compost" post a couple of months back. This was not my intention.
Republishing over and over again doesn't work. And I deleted my separate Achives template, as well as resolved some of the issues in the HTML as well. I'm open to suggestions, if you're familiar with Blogger, but don't worry about it too much. I'll put my mad HTML skills to task and resolve the problem sooner or later (perhaps much, much later).
-duckwing, at 10:32 PM
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Monday, August 25, 2003
The Incredibly True and Amazing Stories of Bill Duckwing
A weekly editorial, formally "Hey, What on Earth am I Doing with an Ice Bucket on my Head," formally, "How do you like Them Apples," by the guys that write the Apple Coda...
Hey, peeps. What's going on?
Well, y'know, I'm sorry to hear that...That's too bad, but it actually works out for you, because I'm going to go ahead and relate to y'all some truly awesome stories that'll totally blow your minds. Fuck boredom, man. The slackers were so nineties. We've got our whole thing together, here, now... So gather 'round the campfire, dudes and dudettes, but don't get too close, because coolness burns, and sometimes it just burns too deep...
Watch it! I say this only for your own protection...
Because I care.
Okay, now you've gone too far. Please step back from my fire. I only say this because I'm worried about your safety. Stand back a little bit, it's okay -because here I come. Don't say I didn't warn you.
Okay, so here it is: I'm walking down the street, actually less than a street but a campusy like winding campus road, just kinda mosying along and humming the latest Dead Kennedys tune, and I see this chick, y'know like walking ahead of me, pretty tall about 5 feet 10 inches, in a tube top with exposed shoulder blades, and calve hugging pants. Walking next to her is some short dude, 'bout 5 feet 2 inches, with gray hair, obviously old enough to be her grandfather, or whatever, except they were kinda holding hands, and I was kinda curious about this.
My first though was that, since I could only see her back, was that she was way older than I first figured, and she was too far away too figure to do a skin analysis and make out a consesus on her real age.
Not that there wasn't other stuff to concentrate on, like cars blowing past and trees, doing nothing in particular, and squirrels, and stupid bees, doing their thing, but anyway, I'm a fast walker, so I knew I'd overtake them a couple miles down the way, and I was curious. What's going on here?
Short personal note here: I am a goddamn impatient person in real life. Some people call me "Speed Walker," which is kinda funny, because I don't walk fast for any particular athletic reason -I just do it because I refuse to "Smell the Roses," -I refuse to go anywhere than from Point A to Point B, and I generally favor Point B, as opposed to anything inbetween.
A good case and point of this: One time, while working as a clinical lab rat, I used to work the second shift -about 5:30 to 2:00 AM, which required about a coffee pot or two during the shift to help ease the bored thing. Ususally I was more than occupied enough to really reflect on how bored I actually was. But this particular night was weird, because in the North East, there are these things called snow storms, and we got hit pretty hard. Which meant that no courier worth his mind was out collecting samples for us to test in the lab. Which meant we had absolutely nothing to do.
After refilling my coffee mug for the twetieth time, and walking back to the triage and for some reason, I walked at a quick speed walk, New Yorker pace. My co-workers, doing nothing in particular, instantly focused on me, watching me with my lab coat on, and carrying a mug of coffee, and so I speeded my ass up as I walked across the lab. You could've call me "The Flash" in that instant, cause I was a man with a purpose, and nothing could stop me from my destination, which was...
...Hard-plopping my ass down on chair next to my computer desk, to sip on my coffee, and to do nothing at all...
This was hysterical, really. My New York City thing, four cell phones in each hand, walking a fucking hundred yard dash only to...sit at my desk and take a sip of coffee.
Well, Jesus Christ! What were we doing here, if even the couriers were too pansy-assed to do their job?
When most of us were dismissed a half-hour earlier (we had to take leave to clear the day as a full day, even though it was mandatory), I started suicidally driving home -The only vechicles on the road were the plows, but regardless, I called a friend up on my cell phone to bitch.
So I'm bitching right, I mean, I'm on probationary status, which means I don't have any vacation time to use up for this mess, which means my paycheck is going to be short, but hey I'm sorta happy, because I don't have to sit around and chat up those mofo's over at the lab for another six hours. That's a mixed blessing, to be sure, so I say over the cell phone to my man, hey dude, I'll talk to ya a little later, yeah, okay, goodbye.
And then I hit a patch of ice on a stretch of road over a big salt marsh, and boom, turning into the skid, no good. I'm rotating now, 360', 720', right into the guard rail and over the ditch. Half into the salt marsh, half out.
In no time at all a tow truck is there to help me out. The tow guy's like "Hey, do you need a tow?" Yeah, do I? I rotate the tires a few times, just for shits and giggles. The tow guy's like "Are you sure?" Yeah, I'm pretty sure, dipshit, so just get me the fuck out of here.
Only problem is that I don't have a credit card. Left my wallet at home and stuff. But I don't quite know this yet. Right now I just want my car out of the ditch.
Anyway, long story short, I had to wait out in the car in a "safe location," for a couple of hours around the parking lot by "Allegro's" whilst my folks came over, during the snow storm, to bring over my wallet, so I could pay the guys.
I was pretty pissed off at the time, but now it's just a funny picture. Me, fumming at night inside my car with Blink-182 playing in my car, snow falling everywhere, and plow trucks surrounding me in this parking lot, holding me hostage. Those Teamster's don't fuck around.
Oh, and the girl in the tube top? Yeah, well, she was pretty heinous, when I finally caught up with her and caught a good look at her. She was probably about my age, too.
Which I guess is the kind of knowledge you get into when you're too impatient.
Oh, and watch the campfire, man. You're messing it up...
-duckwing, at 11:29 PM
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Sunday, August 24, 2003
Because it's Totally Really Ain't Cool...
Hey, it's your eternal sorta-slacker here, Bill Duckwing. I'm just going to start off with this:
"I know that the A.C.L.U. is licking their chops this morning gloating in their unholy victory."
And how's that for a wake-up call, people?
This of course refers to the incredible attack on American Values and Principles by striking down the very symbol that makes us Americans. Not the fucking American flag, here, guys. No...the Ten Fucking Commandments!
I remember being reared on these things since I was a child here, boys...the great stone tablets hung around my neck like all those tons of granite...and yet I never complained. No, I smiled, as back in Sunday school it made involutary genuflecting at all times the cornerstone of my faith. And I sure as hell didn't hear my Sunday school teachers complaining, for they loved the almost constant display of my penitent piety.
So, fuck those pagans. For what idols would these Fed's feel better served? A monkey? A stoned blindfolded lady? A golden calf? Fuck that, man.
It makes me happy that these heathens dont know any better, that they are going straight to the colder frozen realm of Hell ala Judas and Cesar and Napolean. These guys that thought that they were so hot in life, but nay, went straight into unholy hell to teabag the neather regions of their Dark Lord and Master. Kinda gives you a warm and fuzzy feeling, when you think of it.
But, whoa, what was I talking about?
Well, the thing of it is, that I think that we like getting jolted out of the political spectrum. 75% of the guys in this country are tried and true conservatives, or just think they are, so I think that's saying something. When we listen to a guy like Charlie Daniels, it's like a jolt. We say to ourselves -well, this guy's totally fucking weird, but then we say: holy shit, I guess he makes total sense. Because it fucks up or senses, it leaves us out to dry in strange political thought, and that's what's really cool about politics.
Yeah, and I'm totally full of fucking shit, by the way.
If you really want to get into a into the mainstream of politics, join the club. When Pat Buchanan is on the McLaughlin group essentially esposing a liberal agenda in Iraq, I tend to wonder if maybe we've gone a bit off into the right lane. Call me silly, but c'est vrai.
-duckwing, at 11:25 PM
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Thursday, August 21, 2003
Hey, Don't Expect a Ton of a Lot of Crap Here, for a Bit...
I know the blogging thing here has been sporadic at best, but don't worry about it too much. A funny thing called life has kinda put a big old wrench into my normal habit of posting some new and surprisingly informative tidbit of insight each and every night, but don't worry -I'll get over it.
I need to get things on an even keel over here in the world of Bill Duckwing (my humblest apologies, to those that can't get enough -you know who you are...), the real world as opposed to the fake world, and after that I'm going to take a good long vacation to rest my world wearied little mind. Not to get too cliched in my languange, but here it now, man: life is a box of chocolates, and you're never really going to know what you're going to get until you take that awkward, tenative little bite, and try to decode the flavor without cheating and looking underneath the top and finding out that you were stiffed with coconut instead of gooey creme caramel de menthol (sorry to coconut lovers, just not a big fan of coconut chocolates...damn).
So I leave you with sporadic postings, more of less, for the week or so, but if you can't get enough, go read some of my archives, or go crazier still and check out some of my links (lower left hand side, please).
Some good reads for those inclined (sorry, not in the mood to link directly in this post):
Charlie Daniels Soapbox, which I've posted about in this blog on an almost weekly basis, is an almost daily dose of entertainment.
Ruth Bader Ginsberg's Blog, which is really cool, concerns the current Associate Supreme Court Justice's daily hearings with a strange obsession with finding the best place in DC for a manicure (note -only active during the months of October through June).
"Hello, I'm Crazy!" -deals with the daily comtemplations of Jon K., a typical guy not into the whole psychiatric therapy thing, but typical posts include "I comtemplated suicide for the 14th time today..." and "A Comparison of the Relative Benefits of Prozac vs. Zoloft."
"Hey, I'm Part of a Small Blogging Community..." -the life of a college student obsessed with linking to and commenting on the blogs of a small group of aquaintances from the same dorm building. Must read!
"ilinktothewashpostandnytimes.blogspot.com" -a serious political blog that links to the major stories of the day, by regurgitating the front pages of the NY Times and the Washington Post. Often with some comments, too.
"I Enjoy the Killing of Humanitarian Activists and War Protestors at Home and Abroad" -a fun sight injecting a little bit of mayhem and excitement into the usual bland "safe" daily political tripe. Want to chime in gleefully at the sight of people pelted in the face with rubber bullets and people trampled to death by bulldozers? This is the blog for you.
"The Mess Hall" -the only blogger I know in the non-virtual sense. Blogs semi-annually, but a ton of fun when he does. Go ahead, encourage him. And also mention the fact that the Portland scene is just a virtual hive waiting to break out in the whole techno-dance movement (he's an aspiring musician). But you also should be reletively familiar with Bjork's career. Just knowing that she sang "Human Behavior" won't cut it with this guy.
"I Am a Libertarian Blogger" -the current fave. This is the work of "Mr. Instapundit" Glenn Reynolds, who apperently has a lot of time to kill. And I continue to support the war on Iraq, because I am a libertarian. That's all.
"George Bush Campaign Blog" -will be up soon! I promise. It's out, though. And if you love America, you're going to just totally love this blog. It is hillarious. Watch the exploits from the daily personal diary of a young "Dubya" intern going crazy about the whole campaign process, and then realizing, hey, it's really all just about the message. The message, people. That's what it's really all about.
Have fun guys. Keep reading. I will be back when I have some time.
This stuff is all true (except for the Ruth Bader Ginsberg quip, which should be true) -just generalized for your convienience.
-duckwing, at 1:21 AM
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Wednesday, August 13, 2003
Oh, the Humidity!
Well, this summer is one for the books, eh? As the rain, and discomfort of 100% humitidy bear out, I find myself watching the de-evolution of Washington DC back into the parcel of swampland it once was.
Which means more bugs. And since it's getting close to the end of the summer here, they're really starting to freak out. Remember that old tale you heard as a kid, about how bees become more freaky as towards the end of the summer, because they're dying, and confused, and thus angrier. Remember how the likelihood of being stung increased almost exponentially because of it?
Don't believe a word of it, because it's a lie.
Truth is, bugs get freaked out because the heat makes them stupid. Take my day at work, for instance.
On my way to work today, I noticed about 40 or so bees swarming around each other, over one single panel of sidewalk. Just one panel.
What the hell were they doing, I said to myself. They just kept swarming, going crazy over this little patch of sidewalk, like no one's business.
Was there a ripped open bag of dried rose petals, or a dead animals carcass, on this little patch of sidewalk? Nope. Just a swarm of bees, acting like a bunch of fools.
Then, also today, I was out on a smoke break outside, and lo and behold, guess what I saw? A single solidary bee this time, except, rather than swarming over a piece of pavement, this guy was going crazy over a cigarette butt extinguished on the patio. Rather than swarming over it in passing interest, though, the bee actually landed on it, thinking that it was a flower, or something.
"What a fucking idiot," I muttered under my breath.
A coworker, overhearing me somewhat, glanced suspiciously in my direction as he took a drag. I just shrugged, and pointed offhandedly in the bee's direction.
"Holy crap! What is he stupid?" He smirked in response, "Jesus! You'd think he'd just found a pollen bounty, watching how he's reacting to that cigarette butt..."
"Wow," he shook his head, "must be the heat getting to them or something."
"You'd think bees would have the foresight necessary to plan ahead," I said, wisely. "Y'know, plan out their route a bit, steer themselves towards a park, or an open field. But no, they always find themselves right straight back at the closest office park, where there are no flowers, only cigarette butts littered on the ground."
"True," my coworker friend replied, "if only they'd listen to public opinion."
"It's the humidity, stupid..."
-duckwing, at 9:52 PM
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Tuesday, August 12, 2003
What on Earth am I doing with an Ice Bucket on my Head?
Formally, "How do you like them Apples," a weekly editorial by the guys that write the Apple Coda...
Work today was a long, 11 1/2 hour grind. This is my excuse for a long delayed post tonight.
As you are probably well aware by now, Tuesdays are my weekly analysis and dissention from the lead news stories of the day, or week, or month. It was called "How do you like Them Apples," but I recently decided to name it "What on Earth am I doing with an Ice Bucket on my Head" in deference to a piece I wrote, oh I don't know, a few months ago. (See "Pigs, Buckethead, and Political Dressings Mixed with Blood" after clicking on this link.)
'K? So onto the rants.
Blaster is a bastard, to tell you the truth. If you haven't heard about it yet, you're proabably already affected, particularly if your IP address starts with 135. I got infected at work, along with everyone else, by this thing, and it can be so insidious that you don't even know you're infected until somebody mentions, "hey, some dude says the entire company if infected by Blaster, yo, go download the patch." So I did. But, after the patch runs a couple of hours, a neat little alarm goes off, saying "dude, we'd fix this problem for you, but you don't have the latest Windows 2000 patch from Microsoft." Which you can't download if you have the Blaster worm already on your computer.
The funny thing is that Blaster was apperently designed by a bunch of guys that were just concerned about the loopholes in Windows 2000 and just wanted Bill Gates to know that they were concerned, as the PSA encrypted with the worm package maintains:
I just want to say LOVE YOU SAN!!
billy gates why do you make this possible ? Stop making money and fix your software!!
Who/what the hell is SAN?
Is it computer jargon, an acronymn, a place in sunny California, or a pet name?
Just curious...
After watching the talking heads on the news shows on Sunday (Meet the Press, and John McLaughlin, that's about it), it seems apperent now that there is quite a bit to talk about regarding the California recall. Arnolds face, doing a double back to back on Time and Newsweek the week right after Howard Dean's coup, thus confirming Howard Dean's irrelevance to the mainstream media, is now the dominant 15 minutes in American politics.
Well, cool. Except that, given what's going on in California, I just don't see any angle. I mean, even if the next Ronald Reagan comes out of this, that reference is predated. Because nobody really cared about Ronald Regan's political career until he started running for president in the 70's.
Then things got really weird.
Reagan didn't really become the light of American politics because he was an actor. He had a group of revolutionary young one's behind him, and a few other things that I haven't really researched all that well.
Come to think of it, why is Ronald Reagan the most important politico since the 70's -I mean, we're talking a quarter of a century here already. Why does Reagan seem so "yesterday." -as in "he was just president like yesterday."
I just can't call winning the Cold War enough for the whole ideological hold he still has on the Ameican public. And believe me, as far as winning the Cold War is concerned -consider that just won, man. I can't really think of a better way to end the Cold War that the tearing down of the Berlin Wall and all that. Sometimes a little hardball is necessary, when you can't think of a better way, no matter how nutball the whole "evil empire" thing it seemed in retro.
But really, why is the nutball freakizoid right so cool in this country 25 years or so hence?
Cause we're still in Goldwater Country, baby. It started with that, and even if Goldwater did denounce some of it later on in the 90's, it kinda took on a life all it's own. And that'll be a tough nut to crack.
-duckwing, at 11:31 PM
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Monday, August 11, 2003
Charlie Daniels on Evolution
Charlie Daniels finally figures out the way to discredit Charles Darwin and evolution. It's all because of the discovery of DNA.
Rock on, Charlie D.
Honestly, the discovery of DNA, the structure if not the function, by Watson and Crick, totally put a spear in the ass of evolution. DNA confirms the fact that cells are complex, and thus gives credence to the Blind Watchmaker theory.
Nature magazine recently confirmed for us that mutations in DNA have a purpose. Somehow, an "invisible hand" keeps things in check and makes it easier for the world's animals to live and suffer hardships. It's kinda like the how the giraffes "evolved" longer necks in order to reach the fruit high up in the trees. You got problems, just wait a couple of centuries...eventually God will get to it.
I guess it just kinda worked out that way.
We have evolved by design, for some reason. And that's thanks to God.
But I'm stressing the point here.
Thanks, God. For the ability not to evolve.
But to wait for your divine intervention.
Rock on.
-duckwing, at 11:01 PM
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Unearthing the Stuff in a Few Years
I picked up from Howard Stern this morning that the guys that market the Saturday Night Live merch are going to put out a DVD collection of their music performances over the years.
The main NBC site didn't really get into it in detail, but the SNL website has some stuff about it (from last year, so I assume it's on it's way out by now).
I think the cool thing about the SNL music scene was that they were always just pushing out the super cutting edge rock and pop just at the point when your typical white suburban punk boyz were just starting to get into it (see: Nirvana, Elvis Costello, Pink, and Randy Newman -oh wait, that never happened).
SNL had a book done about it a year or two ago, done by some TV guys, and it tends to hype it's importance. But how important was (is) SNL to your average suburban male teen, at least culturally?
The answer is kinda, sorta. I mean, I was glued to SNL just like everyone else. It was like a cultural satirical bypass to something else, though. You start off with Mad magazine. And despite the unbelievable work of genius that was William Gates and Mad, that stuff gets old at a certain point. So you go through the Nickelodean years and they rear you on stuff like "All That." Then you go through a period of Simpsons worship. And then you get hooked on SNL for a couple of years, till you get sick of that same ol' schtick.
And then they drop you off stuck in the rut. And where to go from there, flyboy? Jonathan Swift?
Fuck that, man. Didn't he like do that "Gulliver's Travels" thing? Wasn't that like an animated classic back in the 80's?
One of the really weird things about satire nowadays is that we're going too crazy fast in history that even the stuff we think is going to be deep and will have a lasting influence might have nothing but a footnote in time. Really...just try to guess if Tracy Ullman is going to knock out those guys living out their 20's fifty years from now.
Huh?
Well, she broke the Simpsons, man. Way back when, in like the 80's. Don't you remember? Sure you do, and yeah, she'll be the dig those guys unearth a few years from now trying to figure out who broke the Simpsons. Right?
Well, I guess...
I guess my point is, if satire is trying to hold up a mirror up or something, what is it reflecting?
-duckwing, at 10:36 PM
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Friday, August 08, 2003
Sticking to the ol' Politico...
Seriously, though, is there any serious political commentary on the California recall?
Nah...
I mean, what are you gonna make of it all, really? Which pundit (liberal or conservative, you pick) is going to seriously discuss the merits or flaws of the Gary Coleman campaign?
Who can seriously not laugh when reading all the Arnold quotes. Especially if you're reading "I'm a uniter, not a divider..." in the Arnold voice? Do it. Read it out loud to yourself, try not to giggle. It's impossible.
I really do love this story. It's weird, it's insane, it has all the qualites to make a good detective mystery (Who stole Gray Davis' lunch?). It's great. It's too good for us, I must say.
Everybody's always saying that either Seabiscuit or Kobe Bryant is the "Story of the Summer." Anyone who has half a brain would definately beg to differ. I mean, c'mon, guys. We got California. We got SomethingGate. We got crazy execution style slayings in everybody's inner city this summer. We got love. We got hate. We got Gigli. We got Howie Dean strutting his stuff on the cover of both Time and Newsweek on the same week. We got Bob Hope...
Wow. What a crazy summer. One Crazy Summer (props, you guys, 80's style reference, yo -you got it guy, so props).
I got to hand it to you guys out there. Wow, hey...America. You are one bunch of wild and crazy guys. Keep it up. It keeps my muse alive.
Yay, America!
-duckwing, at 10:35 PM
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Thursday, August 07, 2003
Am I good or What?
Totally called that one. (See previous post to figure out what the hell I'm talking about).
It's a gift. That's all I can say.
-duckwing, at 7:30 AM
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Tuesday, August 05, 2003
How Do You Like Them Apples?
A weekly editorial from the guys that write the Apple Coda...
Okay, first thing's first. Guys -my people who live in the great state of California. Go ahead -vote yes on the recall. That's right, guys. Oust Gray Davis. Doesn't matter if you voted for him before -look at all the much cooler options. One -Arnold Schwartz, who shall be announcing his campaign on Leno tomorrow night. I am so completely positive, I got it on the DC low down today (overheard some dudes talking about it on the subway, obviously working for the Schwartz campign, so I thought you guys should be the first to know). The dude is totally running, and guys, when's the next time some guy who was in 3 Terminator movies going to be running for govenor of California again? Won't happen. So that's one option.
The other option is Larry Flynt, who in addition to being a smut peddler and a cripple, is also a brilliant satirist (I love the one about ABC news). He also publishes Hustler mag, so I'd be careful here. If you're one of those guys that thinks that legalized casino gambling is going to unleash a crime wave on your state not seen since the Prohibition, best stay away from this guy. He also like wants to put slots (yeah, I know...) in every Safeway from here to Sacramento, and he really really really hates Jerry Falwell.
So, given the fact that he's totally out of whack with the American mainstream, I'd watch it. If you don't want to be seen as "on the fringe," I wouldn't vote for him in the recall, because, man, people are sure going to look at you differently if you vote for the guy.
"Why don't you just go ahead and vote for Hugh Hefner while you're at it!" people will yell at you while you're at the checkout lane at your local organic health food store.
"He only voted for him because he thinks that the handicapped have special rights and privileges," people will whisper behind your back as you patiently wait out your latest colonic.
So unless you just want spend your time playing video poker at the local Wal-Mart whilst your wife goes off shopping for yet another stupid dress, don't vote for Larry Flynt.
Speaking of political up-and-comers, may I suggest Ben Affeck? After Gigli runs its course and ruins his career, of course. I know it's trendy and stuff to knock Ben and J-Lo and shit, but hey, I'm not knocking him. Project Greenlight is totally hip and cool, and Miramax is totally awesome, and Ben and Matt, of course, have the creds necessary to keep that shit going for at least another 3 or 8 more seasons (and I am totally not saying this because I'm submitting my screenplay into Project Greenlight for next year).
But sure, write him in for Governor, Californians. Or better yet, write endearing letters to him urging to run for State Senator or Rep or Mayor of Palm Springs or something. Start slow -it takes time to develop a political rep, but I think he's got a shot at something big.
Or just write him in, just for the hell of it. You know that there's probably about two or three thousand guys that are going to do this, just to spite the whole political process. So maybe if you two Californians that read this go ahead and write Ben Affleck in, that'll be like 2,002-3,002 write in votes or so. And that's a start.
Also, be sure to write in for Charlton Heston for Vice-Governor (if there's no space on the ballot to elect a Vice-Governor for this recall, just go ahead and write in the Vice-Governor across the bottom of the ballot, so you can be sure it'll be counted), because he's really cool, and he likes guns, but also because he once said, "You maniacs! You blew it up! Augh!...damn you....Damn you all to Hell!!!!!" (italics added)
I know it's really really nerdy to quote from "Planet of the Apes." I know, and truth is, I had to look for the exact quote from another nerdy website, just so I got it right. Truth is, I've seen "Planet of the Apes," only once, at 3:00 in the morning when I was stoned out of my freaking mind, but still, I could never get that last scene of C.H. crawling around on the beach, screaming at the Statue of Liberty's head as it was freaking out on its side. That was weird -I never smoked pot again after that one, I can tell you. But truth is, as vivid as that impression was on my mind, I never really remembered the exact words of that memorable quote. That's why I had to look it up.
Until next week guys, go ahead and rock the vote, especially my Californian readers, and how do you like them apples?
-duckwing, at 10:53 PM
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Monday, August 04, 2003
Go Ahead, Howard Dean, Just Try to Win the Presidential Nomination...
Right now, Republican's are just shy of jumping around in sheer joy at the prospect of Howard Dean's impending nomination for President.
Republican assholes all over the country are throwing hundreds of thousands of dollars of their hard-earned dollars into the Dean for America campaign, as well as signing up to participate in the Meetups, in order to suggest silly and outright destructive additions to the Dean platform.
Karl Rove, watching the Dean on parade one day, put it quite succinctly:
"Meat! I smell Meat! Loyal followers, give Him the nomination! After the election, we will feast on his succulent bones!"
I'm not quite sure what to make out of all this weirdness. Really. When campaign strategists get down on all fours and start behaving like murderous hellhounds, I just totally miss their issue. I just don't get it.
But actually, I do, because I was once one of those guys. I used to register as a Democrat (heh-heh) only to act as a saboteur to vote for people like Lyndon LaRouche. And for trans-contintental land bridges. It was a miserable tactic, sure, and one that never, ever worked, but maybe this time it might.
But it only works if you pick the worst front-runner. You can't vote for the crazies, only the sorta kinda crazies. And sure enough, Dean's face now graces the face of both Time ("The Fucking Dean Factor") and Newsweek ("Howard Dean -Fuck up or Screw Up") -given the momentum of the Dean campaign, he'll likely be this year's "Man of the Year" for Time, and whatever the guys over at Newsweek do for a special issue at the end of the year.
And the Republicans are totally salivating. "Bring him on!" They say, sharpening their knives.
The Time story is particularly weird, even for Time. Those guys wax poetic about things like "pavement" and "asphalt" and "captivated observer."
All of which factors into Rove's secret plan.
We won't quite know what to make of Rove's secret plan until after the primaries (cause it's secret) -but just wait. It's gonna be big.
-duckwing, at 10:38 PM
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