Dr. Pepper is the best

Why didn't I hear about this?

To go along with its "23" ad campaign, Dr. Pepper hid 23 coins in 23 cities throughout the US and Canada. Finding one entitled you to a prize of anywhere from $10,000 - $1 million. The million dollar coin was found last week - in Houston! By a UT grad!

I want a million bucks. That would be super cool.

How fucked up is it that this movie is 20 years old now?!?!

I couldn't even begin to tally up how many times I watched this when I was a kid.





I think this should cover most of the songs...









I need to buy it on DVD for the sake of The Buddy's posterity. If you've never seen it, kill yourself.

This is a Gigantic cock hat

that I need to buy.

Score!

I feel like an idiot for not realizing this sooner. You can check out all kinds of CDs from the library. CDs that are useful for ripping and subsequent ipodding. Hooray for using the public library to build a personal library!

Reno 911 tonight. It's gonna be awesome.

Remember you fucking heathens, no meat today.

More from New York mag

This time via WMB.

Read it first.

The author identifies what she believes to be the first true generation gap since at least the advent of the rock and roll era. Its catalyst is the generic myspace/facebook phenomenon.

Right now the big question for anyone of my generation seems to be, endlessly,"“Why would anyone do that?" This is not a meaningful question for a 16-year-old. The benefits are obvious: The public life is fun. It’s creative. It’s where their friends are. It’s theater, but it’s also community: In this linked, logged world, you have a place to think out loud and be listened to, to meet strangers and go deeper with friends. And, yes, there are all sorts of crappy side effects: the passive-aggressive drama ("you know who you are!"), the shaming outbursts, the chill a person can feel in cyberspace on a particularly bad day. There are lousy side effects of most social changes (see feminism, democracy, the creation of the interstate highway system). But the real question is, as with any revolution, which side are you on?

Her answer to her own question is obvious enough.

Frustratingly, but as per the norm, inqueries into the salvific (is that a dirty word?) effects of a movement so sweeping and all-consuming are completely ignored. That's the shit that really bugs me, too.

It's easy to acknowledge that, "Hey, the kids are alright after all, the big privacy scare was overblown!" However, failing to consider or even recognize the possible aggregate cultural and thereby societal consequences of having a generation growing up having their every desire for both voyeurism and exhibitionism instantly gratified requires accepting some sort of responsibility for the future. We're raising black holes of self-absorbtion, which should bode well for all of us in about 25 years. Where are the Al Gores on that one?

Sometimes I think that God let me live at this moment in history as penance for all the awful sins he knew I would someday commit, because he also knew that I would really fucking hate the world, most of the time.

I'm going to delete my facebook and myspace profiles when I get home, in protest of self-absorbtion and 100 million teenagers. (Futility reigns supreme.) Don't forget me when I'm gone.

ADDENDUM: Because your curiosity is piqued, I'll save you the trouble of trying to dig up who the "Susie" mentioned in the article is. Her real name is Libby Hoeller, and I would bet money that you've probably already jerked off to one or more of her webcam stripteases (originally intended for her boyfriend). I think the first one of hers I had I found by chance on Morpheus. Yes, they're that old, and that legendary. Be assured of their absolute authenticity. Happy Googling.

Vindication!

Ok, I can't say that I'm actually vindicated by this supremely entertaining article concerning the invidious (nay, pernicious) effects of constant, foundless praise. It's quite long by today's ADD-limited absorption standards, but it reads as popular science and just glides right into memory as if it cajoled you with "just the tip...."

Yes, a positive self-esteem is of paramount import, just as humility is. And yes, just like any personal characteristic of any true import (beyond lush, healthy pubic hair), you earn the motherfucker. That means failing, improving via 80's training montage, then succeeding. I'm preaching to the choir, I guess, with our mostly conservative reader base, but it's always nice to have some clever studies to cite when dealing with those steadfast on equality of outcome over equality of opportunity.

So, smear some ashes on your face, and try to be better than you've ever been. That means NOT teabagging the hapless Asian and adorable puppy. And for me, remind drunken idiots that the only reason Mardi Gras is about eager consumption is the impending period of privation. No privation, no binging sanctioned.

The Time Has Arrived

Chinese Democracy is upon us. First single is called "Better." MP3 link is via Idolator. We have all been holding our breath for this for the last 10 years, so here we go. Guns N' Roses comes out of hibernation, so will I. Enjoy.


UPDATE: Idolator took down the link, but Hype Machine still has it.

Uhhhh, yup.

Didn't watch the Grammy's, but I wish I would've DVRed them for Christina:



That's the fucking soul, baby.

Make sure you watch until the very end when they show Jamie Foxx (you will laugh), and then tell me what movie that shot reminds you of.

Martin Scorsese and the City of God

I'll try to avoid major spoilers here.

I've read several reviews of The Departed that gush over its stylistic achievements, yet decry its lack of overall relevance in that it fails to speak to a "larger theme." In fact, some have cited that as the sole reason it will fail to win the Oscar for Best Picture.

I call bullshit on that one.

Scorsese's central thematic content is a flawless exercise in Augistinianism, ripped directly from the pages of The City of God. The kernel of Augustine's masterwork is found in the final chapter of the 14th book:

Two cities have been formed by two loves: the earthly by the love of self, even to the contempt of God; the heavenly by the love of God, even to the contempt of self.

And thus is the entire history of mankind summed up - as a struggle to survive (and if it all possible mold for the better) the Earthly City, in order to align oneself more perfectly with the Heavenly. It is a struggle to find and establish a right relationship between the two.

Scorsese wastes no time in establishing Costello (Nicholson) and Queenan (Sheen) as the prototypical residents of their respective cities. The first spoken words we hear are Costello's, the local crime boss: "I don't want to be a product of my environment; I want my environment to be a product of me." He is the center of his own universe. Queenan, on the other hand, is the police chief who is as equally devoted to stopping Costello as Costello is to himself. His defining line, "We deal in deception; what we do not deal with is self-deception," should send your mind racing back to the Oracle at Delphi.

Serving as the personal link between these two men are two young police troopers, Sullivan (Damon) and Costigan (DiCaprio). Whereas Costello and Queenan are firmly established in their respective cities (again to be clear, the Earthly and the Heavenly, not physical cities), these two have just begun their residences, one in each. Costigan goes undercover for Queenan to try and rat out Costello, while Sullivan works as a mole for Costello in Queenan's office.

Scorsese spends the majority of the film then observing the consequences each must bear as a result of deciding to plant their faith in one city while having to work to survive in the other. The consequences of that decision, after all, are the most relevant and most interesting aspect of any individual's life - and afterlife, for that matter. For lest we forget, those bearing the namesake of the title are dealing with the ultimate, eternal consequence of their decisions. Scorsese constantly reminds us of that grim reality as repeatedly he intercedes on behalf of the deceased: "may the souls of the faithful departed rest in peace."

Now, the characterizations alone in the film are enough to warrant criticism toward Scorsese for perhaps being too overt in his symbolism (a scene in which Costello is bathed in red light, indulging in drugs and other pleasures of the flesh sticks out in my mind as being especially egregious). This to say nothing of the way the dualism aspect is none too nuanced (he practically screams "TWO CITIES" at us in the final shot). His overreliance on explicitness, along with a couple other technical plot holes, are my only criticisms of the film, however, and are really the only ones that are justifiable.

Whether or not you subscribe to Augustinian theology or not, his contributions to both the philosophy of history (he invented it) and politics (he influenced Western political thought more than any other of the patristic writers) in The City of God and his other writings are immeasurable. Thus, to claim that The Departed - a textbook case study of Augustinianism - is irrelevant in terms of "significance" (as opposed to films like Babel or Letters From Iwo Jima) proves that a) you are a historical and cultural cretin, 2) you are a Modernist, and d) you are an idiot.

Well lo and behold

Perhaps my apocalyptic grumblings earlier this week were a bit premature; apparently I have access to the Blogger site again. Was this only a temporary outage, or am I back to stay now? Who's to say?

Regardless, the diatribes must resume.

Today's subject matter is especially barfworthy: the self proclaimed "new urban parent." Yes, they exist, and they are rallying and getting vocal. As Gawker so succinctly puts it, "a generation of self-consumed hipsters have suddenly discovered parenthood, and we'll be forced to listen to them for years on end." God bless it.

Do you want to see what some new urban parent bloggers look like? Good.




That's right, they are all young and conservative. Or, errr, uh, old and basking in their irony and hipness. And how does it happen that people so self-obsessed finally decide to procreate? Well, the obvious answer is that procreation is the simplest method of ensuring self-perpetuation, paradoxically making it the perfect solution for the those primarily concerned with preserving themselves and their own image. I've got a better one, though.

Think of a hipster as living on the supergiant branch of the H-R Diagram. After he has burned through the natural supply of self-centeredness in his core (probably around age 36), it begins to collapse. Sufficiently high temperature and pressure are achieved so that heavier elements - sacrifice, concern, empathy etc. - are then produced via fusion, both in and around the core. The heaviest of elements (caritas) now completely occupies the core.

Something so foreign to the hipster is unstable, however. Eventually, the core becomes so massive that it completely collapses under its own gravity. The outer layers crash inward, reach a critical density, then bounce back out in a spectacular explosion. The hipster is now a type 2 supernova, and has just gloriously discharged all his elements - good, bad, and ugly. And this is the stuff of which ironic babies are made. (Good gravy, that was forced.)

If you feel like torturing yourself, you can read their blogs. Honestly, you guys should thank me that I spare you the mundanities that are the details of childrearing. Instincts really aren't that fucking interesting, and they're anything but hip.

Yay mustachioed commonsense!

So, to step up my post-rate in compensation for Toonces' newfound difficulties and continue with exclamatory post titles, I share a beautifully pithy article by one John Stossel. Back in the day when staying home Friday and watching TGIF was not a night wasted, John Stossel ruled our family's heart (maybe not Brian's, he was starting that nasty puberty thing that required distancing himself from his progenitors and sibling) with his periodic contributions to 20/20 in the form of scathing commonsense commentary. Think, a less funny and choleric Louis Black with insightful journalism. This round, he turns his attention to the idea of single-payer healthcare/insurance mandates.

It's a short read. Maybe I'll write a post about the revolving TGIF line-up. I'm not sure if Step by Step or Family Matters had the longest life, but it's definitely research-worthy.

Oh, and I also have a Jewish mancrush. Let's get a petition going to have him go mustache as well.

Lasciviousness! Licentiousness! Lechery! Lust!

Surprisingly enough, Sports Illustrated managed to light up not only music blogs, but also technology blogs with clever (read: wholly unnecessary) model pairings. This is the sort of post that doesn't require extended analysis of its subject matter, but a couple notes of interest for our decidedly Marissa Miller-infatuated Triumvirate (We'll make the tenuous assumption that Giz has a libido).

1. Who the fuck decided this is the musician she gets? Are you shitting me up the ass?
2. Much better. More iconic representatives of their sector.

And another round of snaps for my one true lust, Beyonce Knowles, for, uh, yeah. Peace.

This is the end

Well, dear friends, the powers that be at my workplace finally did it; they decided to apply the corporate firewall to all things Blogger. Of course, because I do 100% of my posting from my place of work, the practical end of their actions is a lack of my access to the site for posting purposes. I'm still pondering possible consequences.

Choices so far:

1) The bog is finished from my end.
2) I continue to write at work, email to myself, then post when I get home.
3) I continue to post at work via blogger's email posting apparatus (without pictures, youtube vids, formatting, etc.).

Stay tuned for my final decision, but things are looking bleak.

Gears

This is the reason I've been lying awake in bed lately, thinking about head shots and chainsaws, and mostly not being able to sleep.

I just want to be able to stay home all day and play.

Even Aaron's Lincoln's beard!

Birthday memorials on the federal calendar are probably the closest thing Americans have to saints' feast days on the liturgical calendar. The main difference is that saints are usually remembered not on their birthday, but on the day of their martyrdom/death. Regardless, in both cases, the idea is that on their celebration day we should reflect on what made a particular man or woman great and how we can imitate their actions in our own lives. Today is Lincoln's birthday.

Ironically, though I was born during the the tenure of the greatest president America has produced in over a century, these days I possess a nothing more than woeful cynicism toward anything that falls into the "American political leadership" bucket. I bemoan the tyrannical relativism, debilitating doublespeak, and asphyxiating PC obsession that characterize our current political climate. The poignancy of the sad state of affairs is made especially explicit as we begin discussing 2008 presidential hopefuls (God help us).

Of course, the yang to the current yin are men like Lincoln. It was he who succesfully navigated the nation through the most critical moment its history. It was he who unapologetically reminded us that morality is the linchpin of our political freedom and liberty - not populism, not some delusional form of libertarianism - but morality, so declared and signed in blood in our Declaration of Independence.

It was he who masterfully delivered rhetoric as powerful and as to the quick as the Second Inaugural, the thought of which anything even approaching its magnitude being delivered in our era being all but unfathomable.

One eighth of the whole population were colored slaves, not distributed generally over the Union, but localized in the Southern part of it. These slaves constituted a peculiar and powerful interest. All knew that this interest was, somehow, the cause of the war. To strengthen, perpetuate, and extend this interest was the object for which the insurgents would rend the Union, even by war; while the government claimed no right to do more than to restrict the territorial enlargement of it.

Neither party expected for the war, the magnitude, or the duration, which it has already attained. Neither anticipated that the cause of the conflict might cease with, or even before, the conflict itself should cease. Each looked for an easier triumph, and a result less fundamental and astounding. Both read the same Bible, and pray to the same God; and each invokes His aid against the other. It may seem strange that any men should dare to ask a just God's assistance in wringing their bread from the sweat of other men's faces; but let us judge not that we be not judged.

The prayers of both could not be answered; that of neither has been answered fully. The Almighty has his own purposes. "Woe unto the world because of offences! for it must needs be that offences come; but woe to that man by whom the offence cometh!" If we shall suppose that American Slavery is one of those offences which, in the providence of God, must needs come, but which, having continued through His appointed time, He now wills to remove, and that He gives to both North and South, this terrible war, as the woe due to those by whom the offence came, shall we discern therein any departure from those divine attributes which the believers in a Living God always ascribe to Him?

Fondly do we hope--fervently do we pray--that this mighty scourge of war may speedily pass away. Yet, if God wills that it continue, until all the wealth piled by the bond-man's two hundred and fifty years of unrequited toil shall be sunk, and until every drop of blood drawn with the lash, shall be paid by another drawn with the sword, as was said three thousand years ago, so still it must be said "the judgments of the Lord, are true and righteous altogether"

With malice toward none; with charity for all; with firmness in the right, as God gives us to see the right, let us strive on to finish the work we are in; to bind up the nation's wounds; to care for him who shall have borne the battle, and for his widow, and his orphan--to do all which may achieve and cherish a just and lasting peace, among ourselves, and with all nations.

As literally tons have been and could be written about the behemoth that was Lincoln, no simplistic blurb here could ever do him justice. Still, as today we remember him, the greatest leader in American history, the question remains: which man is our Lincoln? Or, more generally: who will embody greatness for our generation?

A convenient truth

Begine with the truism:

A guy is only friends with girls he wants to bang, or

Friendship with Girl --> Desire to Bang Girl (A)

From (A) we deduce that:

A guy is never friends with a girl he wouldn't bang, or

~Desire to Bang Girl --> ~Friendship with Girl (B)

Clearly, (B) is also a true statement, as it is the contrapositive of (A).

The following statement is more difficult to ascertain as self-evident:

If a guy is not friends with a girl, he wouldn't bang her, or

~Friendship with Girl --> ~Desire to Bang Girl (C)

Maintaining (A) as true, (C) sounds like it could hold up as well. However, to assume so would be logical fallacy. In fact, (C) is the negation of (A), and so axiomatically cannot be true.

Now, even though we know that (C) is definitively false, it's sometimes fun to provide counterexamples to help us understand why this is so. It only takes one counterexample to disprove an argument. A counterexample to (C) would be Marisa Miller: I am not friends with Marisa Miller, but I definitely have a desire to bang her brains out.

On a personal note, I am friends with A LOT of girls.

Thus ends the lesson.

Two presents: one for Richard, one for Giz

First, Richard's. Indy 4 has a release date! Shooting starts in June, with a worldwide premier of May 22, 2008. Hip hip.

A funny rumor: Supposedly Harrison Ford threatened to quit the show because the powers that be weren't going to let him use a real whip. The whip was going to be CG fucking I'ed in later (thank you George Lucas)! Of course, Ford wouldn't let Indy become pussy trash like that, so he put his foot down, and now he's got his real whip. Legendary!

Next, Giz's. In case you haven't been keeping up, the Angry Nintendo Nerd has slowly been expanding his sphere of interest. There for a couple months he was the Angry Video Game Nerd, now he's the Angry Movie Nerd. And guess what his first movie rant is? Giz? You guessed it! TMNT 3! God bless it.

Butt Plug

I couldn't resist.

Butt plug

Lampoon the Deconstructionists! Hooray!

I love The People's Cube.

Don't cross the streams

Go here and scroll to the bottom for a three segment radio interview with Dan Aykroyd. In part 2, he mentions Ghostbusters 3: Hellbent, to be done in CG fucking I, with at least himself and Murray doing voiceover. Is nothing sacred? Has he already forgotten just how atrocious Ghostbusters the Second was?

Unless Reitman directs, and Ramis and Aykroyd locked themselves in a Martha's Vineyard bomb shelter to write the script, and it's 1984 again, this will suck ass.

I'm crying on the inside.

Via AICN and CHUD, at the same time.

Tridentine vs. Paul VI

In 1570, at the behest of the Council of Trent, Pope St. Pius V revised and promulgated the Roman Missal, typifying it and making its use obligatory for most in the Western, Latin Church. The Missal is the book which contains prayers said (as well as all else that is read or sung) in connection with the offering of the holy Sacrifice of the Mass. From 1570-1970, the Tridentine Mass (Latin Tridentum = Trent) was almost universally celebrated in the West.

As of 1970, however, the same may be said of the universality of the Mass of Paul VI. Called Novus Ordo by traditionalists, it developed, among other reasons, out of a concern for the laity's ability to understand and thus more actively participate in the sacred liturgy. After all, other than a few lines in Greek and Hebrew, the Tridentine Mass is celebrated completely in Latin, and it has no licit vernacular translations. And so it was that after 400 years, at the urging of another Church Council (Vatican II), the liturgy was once again revised, codified, and made compelling.

As a child of the V-II era of the Church, the only liturgy I have ever known is the Mass of Paul VI. Celebrated rightly, it is as sublime an experience as is possible on earth; indeed, celebrated rightly, it is perfection on earth. However, a number of unfortunate circunstances have led to widespread watering down and general abuse of the liturgy. In America in particular, enter any Catholic church on a Sunday morning, and the chances are more likely than not that you will witness at least a couple illicit practices: banal (even off the cuff) translations of the Latin, bizarre liturgical "innovations," etc. Thankfully, B16 has mentioned a few times that reform is in order, so maybe sooner rather than later that mess will be attended to.

Now, back to the Tridentine. Currently, in order to celebrate Mass under the Tridentine form, priests and/or laypeople must request an indult from the local bishop. Obviously, this requirement limits its practicability. In fact, in all of Houston there is only one church that I know of that has such an indult: Annunciation. I went there yesterday, and for the first time in 24 years attended a Tridentine Mass.

One thing that the Novus Ordo Missae is big on is audible response, and audibility in general; the priest offers very few prayers up in silence. The exact opposite is true for the Tridentine. There, very seldom is the congregation prescribed to respond, and the overwhelming majority of the prayers are offered by the priest, alone and in silence, at the altar. Another big difference is the music. Many, if not all, of the Mass parts are sung in Gregorian Chant in the Tridentine liturgy. Not so, in most Catholic churches these days. There the best you will get as far as music is concerned are abysmally vapid "hymns" about "we are church" or some other such non-worship-related theme.

The most important difference, however, was the palpability of the level of reverence. So often, I find myself sitting through a Mass wondering why the people there even bother showing up. They're in jeans, they're yappin' away, their cell phones are going off, they leave immediately following Communion, on and on. Mass under the Tridentine form was such that reverence and awe and complete submission were natural reactions.

Now, I'm not going to stop attending the parish that I normally do. Sure, it's got its flaws, but they all do. Besides, it's still the same holy Sacrifice being offered up in propitiation as it's always been. Also, even though I know most of the Mass parts in Latin, it's easier for me to concentrate on what I'm saying when I am able to recite them and follow along in English. I do think that I will start making monthy or maybe bi-monthly Sunday morning trips to Annunciation, however; the Latin Tradition runs too deeply in my blood and is far too compelling to avoid.

Here's an excellent video of a Tridentine Solemn High Mass, narrated in detail by [then] Mgr. Fulton J. Sheen(!).

As good as Chad Vader?

Dare I say better?





The Top 15 "Star Wars" Euphemisms for Masturbation

15. Shooting Womprats in Beggar's Canyon

14. Grooming the Wookie

13. Making the Kessel Run

12. Polishing Vader's Helmet

11. Evacuating Tatooine

10. Unsheathing the Meatsaber

9. Releasing the Special Edition

8. Jumping to Delight Speed

7. Communicating with Red Leader One

6. Lightsaber Practice with Captain Solo

5. Tinkering With the R2 Unit

4. Manually Targeting the Rebel Base

3. Performing the Jedi Hand Trick

2. Scratching Yoda Behind the Ears

and the Number 1 "Star Wars" Euphemism for Masturbation...

1. Test Firing the Death Star

Fergalicious

Vince FTW