09 September, 2006

Another video for everyone's enjoyment/dismay

This is probably the strangest and saddest thing that I have ever seen. Watch it if you feel like laughing a little and maybe being offended a bit.

Satan Interviews for MTV's Next

MTV Producer: Hi, there. Hopefully this will be quick and painless.

Satan: Oh, well, quick and painless, eternal and painful, its all the same to me.

MTV: Um, right. Let’s begin. What is your name?

S: I am Satan, Lord of the underworld, Ruler of lost souls, bringer of pain and suffering to all the black-souled beings who enter my presence.

MTV: Okay…and how old are you?

S: Age is of no consequence while you are burning in the eternal pit of hell! But let’s just say 22.

MTV: 22.And what sort of things do you do for fun Satan?

S: Well, you might say I’m a bit of a pyro. I enjoy engulfing souls with un-quenching fire, sharpening my pitchfork and horns, playing boggle and proclaiming my dominion over all the earth.

MTV: Your horns are indeed pointy. Did you say boggle?

S: Yes, boggle, you insolent lump of meat.

MTV: (readjusting in chair) And what sort of women are you attracted to?

S: The fiery snake of my loins coils in anticipation upon the sight of virgin flesh. Also I like big booty. You know like monster booty? You know? (reaches for high five, is ignored)

MTV: Moving on. Who are some of your favorite pop stars?

S: Paris Hilton

MTV: Really? Paris Hilton?

S: Yes. At least I am obligated to say so, per the bargain we have made.

MTV: One final question: Can you give us your best “next” phrase?

S: OK, here goes: Your rack is a gift from heaven, but your ass is flat as hell, next!

One more Emo Haiku

I have one of my own to add to Dylan's

Live the troglodyte
Lifestyle and find yourself all
alone. In the dark.

Emo Haiku

Sarah's brother's haikus reminded me of some of my own dark 17 syllable cries for help as a high schooler. The highlights:

Wet pulp through a grate
Escaping the rising sun
Into black abyss.


The shaft of false cloud
Tells tall tales to vacant skies
written by a jet.

Ninja blades of grass
Slice sunlight, segmenting rays
Like melted butter.

And my personal emo-riffic favorite:

The foliage drinks -
Sucking marrow from the sun
And a gutted rat.

Gotta Love that Free Speech

Two posts in one night, how ballsy of me. But as you know, I like to try and find crazy ass stuff and share it. Here is a lovely bit of Americanism for you all and the haiku (I love those damn things) that was inspired by said video.




"Evil always wins. Peace
follows victory not words."
-Rush Limbaugh: douchebag

Notes from Failed Bank Robberies

These are several failed robbery attempts by several different nefarious criminals all of whom went straight to jail and were raped or made into slaves, forever regretting their poor life decisions and lack of weight lifting in high school.


(failed attempt 1)

You,
Don’t be a hero, I have gun. I have to be honest; it’s not a real gun, its one of those ones that shoots little plastic pellets. But I went to this other store my friend Hank “six toes” told me about where they sell metal ones, so I’m pretty sure they would really sting. A lot. So, you know, give me the money now or prepare for some serious bruising.


(failed attempt 2)

Place all of the cash from your till into this bag and you won’t get hurt. Also, is it possible instead of some of the tens I get a roll of quarters? Oh and possible some of those little sleeves they go in? I just bought this awesome coin sorter off an infomercial the other night but you have to buy the sleevey things separate. Oh yeah and throw those pens in there too. I love the gel ones. Do you have any gum? I’m trying to quit smoking, it just seems like a dangerous habit you know?


(failed attempt 3)

Hey Stacy, it’s me Chuck, you know from high school? I sat behind you in Mrs. Slauberg’s typing class. Well it’s great to see you again, could I have all the money? Thanks!
Yours,
Bank Robber(Chuck)
PS You look great. Call me sometime (321-Rich) get it? Because I just became wealthy. Call me, or just hit me up on myspace.com/robbindahood


(failed attempt 4)

Hey, what rhymes with snorkel? Give me all the money, bitch, that’s what! Booya, I got you so good. You should have seen your face.


(failed attempt 5)

This is soooooooooo embarrassing, but like, can I have all the money in the bank. Don’t be fooled my totally slamming body, I’m a cold hard bitch. Oh wow, just like that song! (Starts singing) Don’t you just love it?!


(failed attempt 6)

Is that security guards gun loaded? Really? No way. I don’t believe you. So just for fun, let’s play a little prank on him. I’m gonna hold this gun to your face and you act all like you are giving me the money and stuff and we’ll just see what happens. But seriously I am robbing you. So I hope you are wrong about the whole “it’s a real gun and he’ll kill you thing.”


(failed attempt 7)

Hi there, would be inappropriate to ask, instead of for the money in my account only, for the entire monetary sum of the vault? Is that what you all call it? The VAULT? It sounds so intimidating. Not like you, with your plunging neckline and the way your delicate fingers depress that bright red security button. Are those bars over the door real steel? Wow. Color me impressed!



(failed attempt 8)

(Bank robber Runs out the door with bag of money. Elderly Woman approaches)Hello there dearie. I was just wondering if I might be able to get a copy of those surveillance tapes. That was my grandson Jeffery’s first hold up and I am just so proud. You know how grandparents are. We hoped he would be a big football star, but he just said all he ever wanted to do was intimidate people with a midsized firearm. It seemed strange at the time, but we thought he was just being “cute.” Want to see pictures of him potty training?

08 September, 2006

The Logomachist Return

Well, after doing a bit of only research to see about different possibilities for titles (and also to see if Yoshi might be suffering from some strange and incurable disorder) I decided to reinstate The Logomachist as the title, with a new subtitle from the Devil's Dictionary. Although, I am still open to serious suggestions for a new title - if any of us have the ability to be serious.

That's haiku, to you, too

California, dude
It's like totally awesome
I want to go home

Old People are weird
and so are Californians
but the weather's nice

are you supposed to
use contractions in haikus?
it's not very "Zen"

it sort of ruins
the magical flowiness
but so do fake words

the dictionary
deep endless information
I read every night

Trebek, Jeopardy
I long for your blue and white
trivia fame

where am I going
this flow of emotion from
deep, deep in my soul

twenty-six minutes
precision, the clock ticks slow
then I'm on my way

but will it end there?
haiku haiku haiku, ooo
no, no it will not

time time remaining
wheel in the sky keeps turning
I will eat ice cream

homeward bound, I wish
carry on my wayward son
there will be peace

07 September, 2006

Name Change Opportunity

Thank's to Dylan's insightful research, I have thought that it might be interesting to seek out a name change. It would be simple to do and might make this collective blog feel more collective or some crap like that.

THE LOGOMACHIST is a decidedly prententious and obscure title which has only the vaguest of connections to what it is we do , whatever that is.

So, I welcome everyone to post their ideas for titles, and we will see what happens.

the only rule is that the blog will not be called "Scrabble Poker" or "Mark is dumb" or anything like that.

We Contentious Wordsketeers

I'll admit it: when I joined this blog I had no clue what 'logomachist' meant.

That's not entirely true; using my vast(ly inferior) knowledge of Greek and English I determined that it probably referred to some kind of 'word robot.' After six hours of giddy googling, yahooing, and other various gerund-ing attempts I gave up my search for said word robot and resigned myself to a lonely, word-robotless existence.

As it turns out, a logomachist is one who "contends about words." I guess that jives pretty nicely with the purpose of this blog, but I'm not fond of the awkward preposition choice, so I decided to subscribe to an alternate definition of 'logomachy':

"a game played with cards, each bearing one letter, with which words are formed."

To make things easier, we'll call it Scrabble Poker. Ante up.

George Orwell: Hero

Several of us have been admiring George Orwell's genius and so would like to provide links to two of his essays.

The first is Politics and the English Language. This essay gives Orwell's sentiments on the state of language circa 1946, but is still incredibly applicable to the way language is used today.

The second is Reflections on Ghandi. This is Orwell's appraisal of a "saint," attempting to paint a picture of a human Ghandi. Engaging failings as well as successes.

Enjoy!

06 September, 2006

A Blog from the Land of Eternal Sunshine and Self-Loathing

I am not sure what there is to say about Orange County that can't be learned from binging on The OC, Laguna Beach and My Super Sweet Sixteen while simultaneously reading Cosmo and hating yourself from the depths of your soul. Not that my current embittered state isn't from not being able to fit in to size 7 trendy shorts at yet another surf shop filled with tanned, gorgeous, slim, effortlessly athletic looking models of life, because it is, partly, but it is also from the sheer disdain that I feel for this part of the world.

Here are my reasons for why Orange County, CA is the root of all evil in America, nay, the World, nay... the UNIVERSE.

Reason #1: The Reading Material.

Imagine my joy in finding a used book store today, only to find it's measly shelves stocked full of dieting guides, romance novels, and other various paper-bound fecundity. The sad thing was that it wasn't even the shop owners fault. People here DON'T READ. If there isn't an airbrushed woman on the cover, preferably in a monochromatic spandex leotard, it is thrown in the trash, because...

Reason #2: There is no recycling.

Not entirely true, but might as well be, because so few people here recycle that they PAY YOU TO DO IT. Yes. You get PAID to recycle. But first, you have to truck all your second hand glass and paper wares to the recycling plant, which exists only in the imagination of a few liberals and the fewer people who actually work there.

Reason #3: There is no FOOD.

As far as I can tell, people consume sustenance only in liquid form, or smashed up vegetable form, or diet-pill form. Gross.

Reason #4: You seriously DON'T NEED AN SUV.

My time at the library is almost up, but I just really need to get this out there. Maybe, just maybe, if there is only one of you driving your car at almost any given time, the fact that it can potentially hold 7 people doesn't really do you any good. Maybe. I'm not carving anything in stone here. Just an innocent little supposition.


So anyways, I am fully aware that this is not literary, but for what it's worth, Orange County is not the be-all/end-all of American society. From what I'm gathering, it's the END of America as we know it. Maybe if we can all produce as much toxic waste, erode as much shoreline, use as much petroleum-based fuel, and shrink our brains down down down to nonexistence, then we can systematically rid the world of our selves and it will be a much better place.

Ugh.

p.s. Nick Hornby is not too good for "Journal-speak," and neither am I.

My Modest Proposal for the Middle East, Followed by Some Misgivings

As I am arguably a passable multi-tasker when the situation demands it, I have decided to submit this proposal for a peaceful resolution to global disharmony even while labeling recently filled notebooks of student registration forms (both tasks that are necessary and noble in their own right).

But less on this latter engagement, more on the former. I was inspired to post this proposal after happening upon the inspiring words of the great Mohandas Gandhi, who, while outlining the basic philosophy behind his revolutionary stand in India in Training for Non-violence, wrote:

"Just as one must learn the art of killing in the training for violence, so one must learn the art of dying in the training for nonviolence. Violence does not mean emancipation from fear, but discovering the means of combating the cause of fear."

This quote immediately elicited a response in me that was linked inextricably to our current situation as a nation, and images of explosions and combat in the Middle East invaded, secured, and occupied my imagination. It is clear that American and Israeli neo-imperialism as it comes into contact with Palestinian terrrorism and Iraqi insurgencies is fast cultivating the art of killing. If, however, an equitable and peaceful resolution is what is hoped for on both sides (which, on a good day, one desperately wishes to believe is the truth), these operations are counterproductive.

Gandhi is absolutely right when he says that non-violent action is the only policy that will be simultaneously moral and effective. Of course we cannot call upon the US government to adopt a non-violent foreign policy. We could petition, naturally, but this would be ineffective. In fact, the only way to change a bureaucracy's mind would be through a mass popular movement which peacefully protested the current course of action. That is what happened in India in the 1940s, and thanks to the ease of communication in our world today, it could happen again.

Could you imagine a veritable army of pacifists from all over the world inundating the combat zones in Israel and Iraq -- each non-violent soldier wielding, not weapons, but desperately needed supplies to rebuild and renew these barren lands? Initially there would be carnage and confusion, but if these idealistic invaders stubbornly and courageously persevered, the amelioration of a broken situation would be inevitable.

Before I even begin to ask about the logistics that such a venture would entail, however, I think there is a deeper question that has to be addressed: namely the cost. Because there would be a cost, and one that few in our nation would be willing to pay. The West has always been willing to kill and fight for our rights and liberties. What was the American Revolution, but a glorious and violent assertion of our own independence. But are we truly willing to die for charity's sake?

I'm not just talking about individuals giving up their lives for the betterment of the whole. I'm talking about the death of the whole: our mores, customs, presuppositions, in short, our culture. Because, if a non-violent policy were enacted by an entire society, the end result would be peace, but it very well may be extinction as well. That is the great risk of it. Non-violence is submission to another with no guarantees of safety or success, only hope. A pacifist Western civilization very well may spell the death of Western civilization.

TS Eliot already wrote the West's eulogy in his poem The Wasteland. Western culture was sick in 1900, its symptoms lying latent until the First World War burst forth in an all-consuming fever that drove the collective Western mind into delirium. Somehow, the United States continued on, refusing to admit defeat even as the entire nation sank into a general ignorance of its heritage, and embraced a Gospel of Materialism in its stead. Nevertheless, I feel as though the United States is living on borrowed time. The question is not whether our civilization will survive. Rather, it is how she will end.

Will the United States carry her into horrific holocaust once more? Will we embrace the hopeless ethos of our pagan ancestors of the North, and fight the inevitable battle against Loki and the Giants; a battle in which we are destined to perish? I fear that is the direction in which we are headed at the present moment.

Or will we follow in Gandhi's footsteps -- a path that is as much Eastern as it is Western -- and risk annihilation while stubbornly refusing to wage destruction ourselves. Of course we can find precedents of this way of life in our Western heritage as well. We need not solely look to Gandhi and India for such inspiration. I'm thinking first and foremost of Jesus Christ, a man much admired and little emulated in our society. If we follow his lead, we have little reason to trust in worldly security. But, again looking to Christ, I have to wonder if the death of this security may lead to something far more beautiful and powerful.

Nick

05 September, 2006

Haiku Movie Review

Due to the inspiration of Collin Moore I have composed several mediocre haiku reviews of old movies no one cares or talks about anymore. Enjoy!

The Terminator
Robots near future
Arnold Schwarzenegger
I’ll be back stomp crush

Saving Private Ryan
World War Two Ryan Brother
Trapped behind enemy lines
Tom Hanks kills Germans

Brokeback Moutain
Gay cowboy lovers
Doggy style on a mountain
Rednecks disagree

The Terminator (alternate Version)
Glah grah gah ah
Aghr ghrha isglahgrah glug grah
Undt gula grahglah

Conspiracy Alert: Expanding the Fast Food Market

Disclaimer: The following is a paranoid, conspiracy-theory laden look at the world through the eyes of a moderate who's too afraid to talk about how he really feels lest he be stoned by extremists. Enjoy.

My softball team recently concluded our astonishing run to 3rd place in our league - a league which I believe consisted of somewhere in the neighborhood of two teams. Give or take.

Our distinguished prize? T-shirts.

The league’s vast selection boiled down to XL or a duvet cover with arm and head holes. Is this a simple case of more cloth for your coin, or something far more sinister? Pardon me for revealing my political allegiances, but I’m pro-choice – especially when it comes to t-shirt sizes (and seeing as t-shirts aren’t babies you pro-lifers can cram it with walnuts…*).

So the question arises: who is behind this approach to casual torso duddery that caters largely to the large?

You wouldn’t expect to go to a pizza place and only be able to order an XL pizza would you? Of course not! This is America: you should expect to get at least three sizes bigger than XL. I recommend the “Sun Eclipser” from Pizza Hut.

That’s when it hit me: fast food. All those pizzas and miscellaneous meat patties are needed to fill out the free XL t-shirts that are given away as prizes for softball and other nominally sport-like activities.

American citizens are forced to live up to Fast Food Industries hefty expectations lest they be mistaken for infants, rappers, or anyone else similarly unable to communicate intelligibly.

So the next time some cotton peddler tries to force their super-sized apparel onto you, be sure to show your disgust; spit on them if necessary; tell them to stop being a slave to the Fast Food Industry; then check to make sure the person offering you the t-shirt isn’t handing them out to support a 5k combating obesity.

Actually, you might want to check on that first.

And for all you naysayers who think I’m a mere conspiracy theorist, remember this: theories are conjectural; what I write is pure untainted truth. If you must call me names, be accurate: call me a conspiracy factist.


*…that weren’t picked from a tree prematurely but died of natural, falling-related causes.