Wednesday, 22 October 2014

Wretched Are the Peacemakers

You know 'em. You're getting into a heated debate and your blood is boiling, your sense of awareness rises with your volume. Your synapses start firing like they never get a chance to in the drudge of your daily life. You're recalling philosophies long dormant, welcoming them like old friends. Adrenaline rushes. You're trading barbs, and wit, and facts, and popping balloons, and taking hits, and you've forgotten all about your food because the succor of the intellectual battleground is so much sweeter.

      And some flimsy-wristed milquetoast has to come and go "Well, I guess everyone has their own opinion!"

      ... or change the topic to the weather, or the news, smothering intelligent conversation in political correctness and limp manners.

      These are the same people who say no one will ever win the science vs. religion debate, so why bother talking about it at all? They are not accustomed to giving reasons in conversations; nor speaking publicly about controversial topics (at least outside of their own pet causes). They think that because arguments are prolonged and charged up, they are futile, or act that way, in any case.

      I am not referring here to the moderators: those who say "But if you say X, then how can it be Y" or who seek to find common ground, or a third (or fourth, etc.) solution. I mean the people who shut things down entirely, who fancy themselves peacemakers but are really stifling intelligent debate.

      They are uncomfortable with loud voices, or feel out of place when they can't insert themselves into a conversation. They feel bad for someone who is losing an argument (those who should have shut up), or they feel afraid of people who have strong enough positions to say them with conviction. They accuse people like me of being strident or confrontational because we care about things.

      Even some of my best friends and closest family take on this role sometimes, trying to decompress a good thing and thereby sucking the life out of one of the few situations wherein I ever feel alive.

      Can not that person you're debating with remove themselves from the conversation if they are uncomfortable? Would you, as a friend or loved one, not respect their wishes if they said they wanted to stop talking about it? Of course you would, because disagreeing with someone does not mean disliking. But the transfer and consideration of information and ideas is one of the single best things that you can do, bar none, and should be partaken of with a glad heart and fire in the gut.

      So the next time you're considering dropping some stupid platitude on a lively argument, like "Well, it just is what it is," or "We aren't going to change anything here at this table," do the world a favour, and kindly shut the hell up.

Sunday, 7 September 2014

Celebrity Nude Leaks...are still important: A Thought Association


Why is this news?
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Why don't hackers spend a few minutes a day solving the issues of climate change or overpopulation?
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Do these computer experts not know there are lots of naked people on the internet?
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Why does the world have a boner for Jennifer Lawrence?
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Why was Catching Fire the single corniest movie I've ever seen, featuring several award winning actors?
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Why is Divergent allowed to exist, ripping off The Hunger Games almost as blatantly as The Hunger Games ripped off Battle Royale?
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Why does young women's fiction have to pander, instead of inspire?
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Why are the biggest trend franchises in Hollywood taking their cues from specifically adolescent literature? (I'm counting 50 Shades here.)
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Why, when I was growing up, was it semi-impressive to adults that I was reading certain books or series, and now when young people read at all, they're looked at with a sort of confused awe?
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What's with the race to the bottom?

Sunday, 3 August 2014

It is Right to be Black, and it is Black to be Right

#ReallyColumbusing

Chris and I discovered Chicago. There we found Chris, who had discovered some other shit.

It's good to have land.


The Lone Olympiacos Fan In Our Section
We may never walk alone, but you'll sit by your goddam self.

Confused Activism
Liverpool F.C (England) VS Olympiacos F.C (Greece)
Olympiacos fans think "Kosovo is Serbia." Can't tell if serious.



The Redneckest Menu Ever:
65% whiskey. I somehow doubt that after the 9, 10, and 11 dollar shots, you can tell the difference between the 50 and 60 dollar shots.
The waitress was nice.

A Commercial For Spaying & Neutering:
These two are too close for my liking already.
Awwwtheyresocayooooootizzapuppsnuggliebooboos.


Possible Christmas Card?
Faves. I'm calling it "Black and Tan Wonderland"

L-R: Alexander Black the Right (with a tan), Mali, Molly, Starbucks, JFish

Wednesday, 23 July 2014

Guilty by Word Association

The customers had thrown things on the floor, like they do. She walked down the aisle, which was the wedding aisle (but not that wedding aisle, she walked down that long ago), picking everything up. Nice! she yelled. Look at this! It's everywhere!

No, you're everywhere.

Your.......everywhere.

Your haaaair is...

I'm 17 or 18, walking back up the stairs of the Legion in Belle River, I think, and the electric throb of a hardcore show is no longer shaking the wood paneling. There's a melody in the air. Her hand is in mine.

As we crest the staircase, we see a crowd, who was, fifteen minutes ago when we went outside to fight, beating the living shit out of each other in the primal construct called a mosh pit; they're now swaying back and forth, not quite in unison, belting out the refrain (not quite in unison).

Screaming infiDELitiiiiiies!

Weren't these guys the badass hardcore headliners? What the hell is going on?

And taking itsssssswear.

Fuck it.

YOOOOOOUUUUR HAAAAAAIIIIIR IIIIISSS.

I'm singing louder than everyone else. She's looking at me like I just sprouted a third arm. She loves this song, maybe, though I'm pretty sure she doesn't know what infidelities are.

We had to fight because I "ignored" her, which I didn't, to talk to the sister of a friend of ours (whose earlier performance is actually the reason we're here), who happens to be friends with a girl who liked me, who I didn't then like, but who I did end up dating years later. Was this the first time I told a girlfriend she's batshit? Was it the first time I was wrong? Or was it a self-fulfilling prophecy? Saw that same friend's sister recently, for the first time in forever, too. Brains are weird. I didn't ignore anyone to talk to her this time.

EEEEEEEEEEEEVERRRRYYYYYYWHEEEEEEEERE!

This acoustic/crowd-chorus version is wayyy better than the original.

I'm walking down another aisle, cleaning more stupid customer mess and I've been singing the song over and over again (reading your note), for days now, belting that shit out with zero shame. Memories are weird.

FTB

Saturday, 10 May 2014

Giggly Bitches

I don't know which  I find more aggravating:

Hearing the giggly bitches enter from across the store, loud and laughing and too young still to be irritating bartenders, though one of their poor stupid parents lent one of them the car, while they yammer on about how when they were kissing, he totally grabbed her ass, and I dread the wreckage they shall surely leave in their wake as they try on every stupid piece of everything and put it back in its proper place on the ground, and oh my god, look at this. Like look at this. Like oh my god guys look. HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA!!!111!9124129yifqhuf!!!!

OR

The part where I come around the corner and they shriek in delight at having been discovered at their dress-up play, scampering off and muttering to each other how that guy just saw us, as if anyone gives a flying rat fuck that you can put a mask on your face and wave a noisemaker in the air to make some noise. Since we all know you're not buying shit, and you got your requisite selfies, can't you just walk away now, so I can go about cleaning up after your slovenly, giggly asses, already?

But I know I need a new job either way.

Wednesday, 5 March 2014

Everyone's Favourite Time to Hate

I make Roll up the Rim jokes. We all do (still better than my baseball average, am I right? Right?!) But I've been coming across more and more people in recent years who are well and truly pissed about the fact that they haven't won a car or TV or RV or AWAC or whatever the hell they want. Could they be right? Is it a coffee conspiracy?

They've never hidden the odds of winning, and in fact, in previous years, Tim's has actually printed them right on the cups. I guess there's a grade-six math competence issue in Canada, that probability unit is tough. Still, I'd always suspected they were hiding something.

Roll up the Rim to Win is a promotion, and it works. I infrequently buy coffee, I prefer my home brews, but I'll spend a buck and change to roll the dice with my java a few times a year. It's obviously conducted at that time of year to combat Lent, but because most people have come around and thrown Catholicism out the window (this year, I'm giving up Jesus), it actually has the benefit of not just keeping would-be-abstainers coming back, but of pulling more customers than normal. We all know this. The cups go from brown to BRIGHT FUCKING RED, as if to say, "HEY! Come in here! Come now! This is an obvious and effective ploy for your attention!" Those sneaky devils.

Anyway, I bought a cup this morning while I was oot and aboot, and came up snake eyes again. I'd long suspected I would never actually get a car, and then, after I returned home with my disappointment and groceries in hand, I found this smoking gun evidence, pulled right from Toyota's website *play music from Zeitgeist*:




The bastards didn't even charge me for my Corolla.