Dear Reader, (an open letter to my followship) (and Carter)

I hope this letter finds you well. I am currently sitting on my new Karlstad couch from Ikea, which cost less that my travel to and from New York last week. Ah New York, the city in which I never sleep. Because of the drugs, dear reader, because of the drugs. Now, I was going to use this letter as an excuse for why I haven’t been in contact, I know, I’ve been terribly remiss in our correspondence, but I’m not going to simply excuse myself after all. I was going to tell you about CMJ, embellishing greatly with scenes from Spielberg’s masterpiece Jurassic Park (which I might add is an apt analogue, when taken from the viewpoint of myself as one of the dinosaurs). I was going to tell you about my trip to Target, which resulted in me buying a toaster oven, and then attempting to photoshop myself into stills from The Bourne Identity. I was going to regale you about my sojourn to space, and meeting Jeff Goldblum there. I was going to run on about my trip to Nashville where I ended up in a poker game with Kenny Rogers, Ry Cooder and Death itself. I was going to tell all about about my encounter with Milton Friedman in a Starbucks where the service was just abysmal, so we went across the street and had Earl Grey tea and he told me how he faked his death because the Nobel Committee retains strict control over your life rights after you win. I was going to go on and on about the 3 days I spent at the bottom of a well, searching for answers, only to find myself in a dream state hotel room with a hooker and a baseball bat, no, wait, I’m not going to tell you about that. I was also going to tell you that I spend the last 2 days watching Fringe in bed, and it’s totally awesome.
But no, the time for petty excuses and the cheap dodging of responsibility is over. I will no longer shrink from the tough questions like a politician up to 2 years before an election, I will no longer hide like Tupac, JD Salinger and Steve Jobs when he drops a dress size, I will no longer cower like those 12 year olds I just pwned in Call of Duty. I will stand tall and say to my friends and peers, NO, this is not just a site for reposting funny things on the internet, NO, this is not just an outlet for masturbatory rambling, NO, this is not just a place that posts cool mp3s for free download so that we can try to up our traffic.

I SAY NO.
IT IS ALL OF THOSE THINGS.

Thank you and good day.

Posted by James on 26/10/2009 at 11.am

Hate Crime Fail: Why the welsh can’t do anything right.

Ok, this is possibly the sweetest just desserts I’ve ever seen. I mean, seriously, in the pantheon of comeuppance, no one has ever deserved it more than this pair of drunk, homophobic, welshmen. So, just to give the rundown, these two assholes bon vivants of the UK’s asshole, are running 1/2 shirtless through the streets assaulting randos and generally being assholes bon vivants. Making friends, the fisty way. Then at around 1:00, I’m going to imagine the conversation went like this (translated loosely from the unintelligible mess that is the welsh accent compounded by the extreme inebriation)

Shirt: Oi! Look at those thar two queers there in the skirts wot!

Shirtless: I’m straight then, wot! I hates some of those faeries with the wo wot!

Third guy: Um, are you freaking serious? Those guys are like 300 pounds.

Shirt: They be waring skirts then! They must be queer then! WOT!

Shirtless: I’m straight then and I bet Oi can take them then them!

Third guy: Um, that guy definitely has a cauliflower ear. Like a bad one.

Shirtless: Hey queer, nice heels!

Shirt: Oi he told you then!

Third guy quietly disappears off camera R

Concussions. Blackout.

That’s right careful reader, these two cross-dressers are FUCKING CAGE FIGHTERS OUT ON THE TOWN. They enjoy dressing up like women and destroying men’s bodies. Seriously, both of those dudes go down in less than a second. THEN THE ONE GUY STOPS TO PICK UP HIS CLUTCH.

via DailyMail

Posted by James on 07/10/2009 at 2.pm

Oldies but Goodies: The F*cking Rockafire Explosion

another gem from the annals of the internet. no, you pervert, not anals, annals.

Posted by James on 25/09/2009 at 4.pm

Kid keeps losing at deals, decides not to make a deal

Wow, this kid is amazing.

he’s assertive which will serve him well in life, but that attitude about making deals means he’ll never fist bump howie mandel.

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Posted by James on 25/09/2009 at 1.pm

Oldies but Goodies: Crazy Indian Video

i love this video. an internet classic. i’m sensing a theme for the day.

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Posted by James on 25/09/2009 at 1.pm

Daft Punk is doing the theme for TRON. Duh.

This is the theme for Tron: Legacy. That movie with the awesome ass motorcycles and ruthless exploitation of 80s nostalgia. No, not Star Trek. Tron. Yeah, Tron.

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Posted by James on 24/09/2009 at 1.am

Worst Party/Viral Ad/Promotional Material/Best Joke Ever?

This. Is. Perplexing. Maybe it’s because it’s 11:30pm and I’m on cuppa coffee number 3 starting at 10:30pm, seriously I’m drinking this shit like I just got out of an AA meeting. That’s not a joke, it’s an honest similie. Anyway, back to the issue at hand. What the fuck is this. If anyone has a direct line to Bill Gates, I would like to call him up and ask him/inform him because I’m sure he has no idea that this weirdness is out there.

Let’s assess. We have a painfully inept cast of actors that are so race/age correct they must have been hired out of a benneton ad afterschool special focus group for a local government public policy initiative. They are having a party (ostensibly) for Windows 7 (I thought that was the joke until I started seeing ads for it) in the kitchen. Do they want us to do this? Do they want us to laugh? Do they want us to writhe uncomfortably at the painfully stale marketing of the painfully stale windows platform? WAIT! IS THAT IT? Is this some sort of meta, post-modern attempt at new post-viral advertising? Holy shit, Microsoft is back ladies and – wait what the fuck am I saying? By the way, don’t watch this whole thing. There’s absolutely no point.

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Posted by James on 23/09/2009 at 11.pm

Unsettling Today: Kirk Cameron

Clearing the bar previously set by Glenn Beck talking about hip hop, Kirk Cameron is the new jump off for Unsettling Today. Honestly, it’s almost as though he was shooting to make this list, with his freaky intens-o eyes staring directly into your soul and whispering over and over again: “Sinner, everything you know is a lie” until I get a restraining order and a can of mace. Giant disembodied eyes prosthelytizing in the desert of my soul make a pretty good target for pepper spray there, Mike.

But seriously, surrealist imagery and Growing Pains references aside (the latter only temporarily), what I find most unsettling is the profound sense of indignation he has about education growing more secular in America. “61% of professors of Psychology and Biology are atheists!” Wait, seriously? Only 61%? Because I’m relatively sure that those fields involve a  survey of organisms and phenomena in nature that relies on empiricism and not an almost Calvinist sense of predestination in intelligent design.

Honestly I don’t even know where to go from here. I mean the linking of Hitler to Darwin, the statement that students should be allowed to see the correct answer and then make up their mind, the way they’re trying to sell the book as a great edition of Origin Of Speices. I just can’t rail against it all, it’s too much, it’s too much crazy. See for yourself.

hit the link for an eastern european girl who agrees that you can’t have the moral high ground after your best friend is named Boner. - jump to 1:00 to get right to the blow by blow.

Posted by James on 23/09/2009 at 11.am

NYT makes with the funny again

Sometimes, the New York Times OP-ED is funny. During election time they had Aaron Sorkin write one of these interchanges between Obama and ex-President Josiah Bartlett (yes he was a president, that was a documentary not a tv show…<eyes glistening, he clasps his hands and turns obsequiously toward the window, gazing at the infinite sky> please?) Anyway, now they’ve turned their creative dramaturgy on our delightfully half-blind and quarter-witted non-governor, and it makes me chuckle.

What Obama Said To Paterson, Maybe

The Sorkin Election

too many words for a reblog? maybe. colorful imagery and creative use of the word obsequious? always.

Posted by James on 23/09/2009 at 10.am

Things Not To Do: Piss Off Gawker

So, there’s some developing story nonsense to this if you want to go over to Gawker and give a shit about something that really doesn’t matter (also known as like 50% of their content {and to be fair about 80% of ours[am i using these brackets correctly? it suddenly occurs to me they might have real uses]}) but the moral of the story is that TUCKER MAX SUCKS. He was good for a cheap laugh when it was on the internet, it was good for a cheap laugh for about 10 seconds when you were stuck in Urban Outfitters with your girlfriend, it was good for a cheap laugh when I incredulously noticed a street ad for the movie. Then, I realized it was true, and my heart sank. Anyway, my own disdain for the “tucker max media empire” aside, some shit went down with gawker. Basically, gawker put the snark out on tucker and then tucker was like “oh yeah”, and that’s about where he made his most critical error.

Tucker, tucker, tucker. I don’t know if you’ve ever been there before, but gawker is a site that exists to talk some shit and relay some news while doing it. You don’t talk back. THEY WILL END YOU. But, what’s done is done, and now without further ado, I give you Ian Spiegelman destroying Tucker Max with such venom and vitriolic furor that I honestly for a second wanted to tell him to back off. Then I thought about it, laughed and kept reading.

I don’t hate you, Tucker. I think you’re a sad piece of nothing that floated along and got caught on some corner of the net when it was still impressed by college boy antics beyond giving them two minutes of Youtube time. I say your stories are fake at THE SAME TIME (wow, Tuck, caps are an effective rhetorical device!) as I say every frat boy tells those stories, because every frat boy’s stories are mostly bullshit. Most frat boys only try to sell their crap to their friends, and not for money. Even Opie and Anthony called bullshit on you. How often do they call bullshit on anyone? You know most of your stories aren’t true, and that’s part of what makes you behave like a caged-in fucking maniac.

The other reason I would hate you if you were worth the passion: You soooo clearly fucking hate and fear women, brah! My God, can you write one word about them where you’re not demeaning—literally—the shit out of them? It’s not okay with most people that a guy who sells 400,000 copies of a bad book he mostly invented should fucking hate women, should keep telling story after story about how he tricked some girl with not enough self-esteem into a place of lesser self-esteem. Why don’t you at least get creative about it?

Because you cannot. You haven’t got the mind. You are, frankly, quite stupid and dark and a misery to contemplate. If you’ve had all the sex you claim to have had—though I don’t think all the shitting and vomiting you describe actually describes any kind of actual sex—why not be philosophical about it? Why not be Henry Miller?

Why not? Because you, Tucker Max, are a thug, an unimaginative punk, and, at heart, a tiny little vapor.

As for your bet. Nick will deal with that.

As for me, before you bother googling me: I have written two novels and they did not sell much at all. If you think that’s the measure of me as writer, James Frey has sold roughly five or six times more copies than you, not including his bad novel.

In the end. We hate you because you suck. Hating you is the least cynical thing any Gawker writer ever did.

Now die.

For the full article

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Posted by James on 22/09/2009 at 2.pm

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