Mantis Style!: 12/01/2004

Thursday, December 30, 2004

I Love The Internet
The internet is great. It allows me to find all sorts of cool stuff, and learn about other cool stuff. For example, I learned that Ryan is writing a book. I think that is ten kinds of awesome, and would be more than happy to help out if possible. You say your book is about trying to dissapear in North America? If you haven't done any research on the topic, here's how it's done.

Also, if you haven't found a good use for all of that gross blue Pepsi yet, here's a suggestion. I love the internet!

I Hate The Internet
The internet is the worst thing ever. No matter how many practical or interesting uses I can find for it, I will be plagued by an exponentially greater number of bad speller(ers). Just try and take your game online, and you'll see what I mean. It's nothing but american kids who feel empowered by sitting in their parent's basement, screaming obcenities at their televisions with the help of a headset. There is rarely a target, but there is never a lack of audience. Thank god for friends.

Thursday, December 23, 2004

Merry Christmas everyone.

Tuesday, December 21, 2004

Part 2: Part's Revenge
I thought that I would have tons more to say on this subject, but I suspect that my interest in it is quickly draining.

I ended the last post touching on money. That is what a job's all about, right? You have to make money to live. But that's hardly enough in society's eyes. You have to make lots of money, so that you can afford the consumer electronics that Dr. Phil is advertising in his episode that somehow benefits families with fathers serving in Iraq. Media constantly bombards us with advertising in every format. Radio is just commercials for cars and phone plans, lightly interspersed with commercials for CDs that will make your friends think you're cool. TV, film and fashion are no different, for the most part. How many times have I passed by frat boys proudly advertising that they spent $20 on a t-shirt that's made to look vintage while still bearing the logo of the store it's bought from? Consumerist ideals sounds like a good discussion topic for another time, and I'm getting away from my point here, so back to talking about jobs.

You need money to live comfortably, at the very least. Talking to my mother about the subject, retirement seemed to be the most important thing a job could offer. Fair enough, you want to live comfortably, retirement can help you with that. When I told her of my plans to move boxes for a living, she replied with: "40 years is a long time to move boxes". She was right.

40 years is a long time to move boxes.
40 years is a long time to be a rocket scientist.
Hell, 40 years is a long time to be a movie star.
Y'know what? 40 years is a long time.

It doesn't really matter how you slice it, you're likely to work for longer than you'd care to. Undoubtedly, you are going to find dissatisfaction in whatever you're doing. Ideally, you won't commit suicide, and will instead work through it and persevere. The fact of the matter is that only a small fraction of people can make a living doing what they love, the rest have to either love what they do, or be miserable. It's not that I don't believe Phil would study physics even with no financial gain to be seen, it's just that I didn't want to talk about that because it didn't represent the side of the argument I wanted to explore.

Ironically enough, I'm still likely to pursue a carreer in the police force. I don't want to hand out speeding tickets all day, or work in a high school and stain the reputation of law enforcement for a whole generation. I don't want to sit in a courtroom or behind a desk waiting for my pension to kick in. I don't want to be a Policeman.

What do I want to be when I grow up?
I want to be happy.

Monday, December 20, 2004

First, read this.
Then, read this.
Now, we are ready to begin.

"What do you want to be when you grow up?"

I would have to say that these are the 10 most evil words in the english language. From the moment you are able to speak, the adults pounce on you with this question, hoping for the cute stock answer of Policeman, Fireman, or Spiderman. It doesn't stop there though. The question is brought up regularly during your formative years, and your answer will likely change once you realize that Policemen get shot at, Firemen get burned, and Spiderman has to live in New York.

In high school, you are teased with the notion of fantasy jobs that are made possible only through post-secondary education, and the seed of evil has sprouted in your mind. This is what all those long days of lectures and boring nights of homework have been leading up to. This is what it's all about. This is the final goal.

Of course, of the millions of children who are told that post-secondary education is the key to their dreams, only a fraction of them actually do attend, fewer of them actually staying the course. It's all the same though. In the end, we've all just worked hard, to earn a job were we can work hard. Afterwards, death!

So, the line is drawn between the box-lifters and rocket scientists, the blue and white collars, the rich and the poor. It actually works out kind of nicely, because if everybody was a rocket scientist, who would lift all those damn boxes? A janatorial job is not one that is given out of pity, but neccesitty. Because how many rocket would get scientized if the scientist had to clean his own toilet? Not as many, that's for sure.

Of course, this all raises the question: Why are we bred to see our job as the final goal? Why are we expected to live our lives for our job? After all, isn't a job just a means to an end? I think that we may be getting somewhere now. Stay tuned for part 2!

Thursday, December 16, 2004

Against my better judgement, I've decided to try and relate the events of tonight, while my ears are still ringing, head banging, and nerves throbbing. Tonight was a blast. I haven't had such a good time in a long while. What happened, you may ask?

- We all drank and/or smoked too much for our own good.
- Ryan (surprisingly) didn't puke.
- Also, he danced like a goddamned machine. The dude can cut a rug when so inclined.
- Cara and Michelle warrented the mating rituals of several prostpective males, all of whom I assume were eventually shot down. Eventually.
- Phil was actually able to hold a conversation without talking like Jeremy of Pure Pwnage. Congrats.
- I didn't bother spell-checking this post. Obviously.

The point of all this is to prove that while we may be geeked-out and nerded-up losers, we are still some cool cool guys who know how to have a good time, and that's important, somehow. Maybe it would be better to reflect more on this night when I'm not stinking drunk, or stinking in general. Dancing like a fool can work up a sweat.

Sunday, December 12, 2004

Vote for my t-shirt, please. I know that not everybody's about the text, but I wanted to represent the time-honoured tradition of fair play and not biting with a formal font.

Also, I got a new TV, which is kinda cool.

I don't have more words.

Saturday, December 11, 2004

It nearly brings me to tears to say this, but this may very well be my last post made from this computer. See, Best Buy is a bunch of fuckers who lie and cheat to sell you expensive things, giving you awesome payment plans that are mere works of fiction. So when a 2 year, no interest/payments plan is sold to you in earnest, what it means is that there are high-fives being made in the breakroom, as this sucker is to quickly receive bills for payments and interest.

On the brighter side of things, with enough yelling I was able to use a top-end computer for 2 1/2 months without paying a dime. Yay me, fuck Best Buy.

But this is hardly where the Mac trin stops, oh no sir. This omputer has shown me how very much superior OS X is to all other systems, and how gorgeously gorgeous a widescreen monitor can be. I will buy another, no doubt. I'm going to be keeping my eyes open for refurbished or used models, and I'll get back in the game soon enough. In the meantime, I will shed a tear every time I am forced to use the shitty PC downstairs.

Friday, December 10, 2004

Fuck Everybody Who Isn't Me

Don't think that I'm pissed off, I'm writing this with a big-ass grin on my face.

Concerning those who dissed Mike. Fuck you. I've never really liked you, and I'm sorry that you had to hear that from Mike. I should have told you myself. But now you've gone and shot the messanger, which is a pretty brainless thing to do. If you think that this is a cowardly thing to do, trashing you in open spaces, I'd be more than happy to open up a dialogue. I mean, surely you can think of a better way to get back at us for talking behing your back pretty much all the time than by flaming Mike.

Hey Colm, you totally kicked my ass, and showed me what-for. Like you, I also have a lot of problems with what David Stubbs was saying, I just wanted to illustrate that there are legitimate reasons for not liking certain artists. He just happened to pick on all of the greats at the same time, and looked like a total asshole doing it. The last that I'm going to say about the whole subject is this: Classic Rock Is Dead. All of the innovations have been made, all of the songs have been done, it is a dead genre, kept on life support by at least 12 radio stations per city.

Thursday, December 09, 2004

Okay, so after a lot of research, it turns out that The Clash/Ramones did pioneer the the original sound of punk rock. However, I was able to find that hardcore headbanging punk has some interesting origins. It's all about a little band called Bad Brains, who date as far back as '77, and can be credited with the greatest innovation in punk fashion: the safety pin! Be sure to find the track "Pay To Cum", it's an incredible eye-opener.

There's also talk of Pure Hell, who are purported to predate The Sex Pistols, but I haven't been able to find any of their stuff, as they were incredibly underground. No doubt some answers could be found in the Afropunk documentary, but that would just be cheating on my part.

But there you have it, the culmination of my research.

James Brown. The Godfather of Soul. This guy is an incredible entertainer. He's never been much for singing, rather than just barking out his lyrics, but he's got a band together that really turns it out. That sax player that looked like Ron Jeremy was crazy, and also included in his ensemble was his wife and son. Awwww! Seriously, the only way I can conceive that concert being better is if James Brown took the stage by flying through the audience on a complicated system of cables and pulleys. Well worth the ticket price, that's for sure.

Having said that, I have recently started a controversy by stating that I do not like classic rock, The Beatles in particular. My reason for this is that idolation of the classics stifles creativity and progression. Yes, modernism has led popular music to being controlled by teenage dancers with more talent in their midriffs than in their voices. But I'm willing to risk these triple-synched pieces of crap if the philosophy allows us to move into a musical movement that is genuinely worth it. And what's so great about old music anyway? There's plenty of resons to not enjoy the Beatles.

I also made another bold claim last night, and that was to prove that punk music was invented by black people. It's a well-known fact that all popular music genres have been invented by black people, and stolen by white people, with rap music being the exception. That's just a big rip-off of country/western.

Tuesday, December 07, 2004

Ryan man, it's like you read my mind. I'm still trying to figure out vector graphics, which is why the hair looks so shitty. Other than that though, I really like the design. As always, any constructive criticism is helpful and welcome. Let's do this up right!

Thursday, December 02, 2004

Alright, so it's about time that I got around to it, but I finally got around to making a comic of my very own. It's nothing complicated or fancy, but it's mine, and I think that's important. So far Lil' Fat Kid's the only character created, but there will likely be more on the way. We'll see.

Mantis Style!