Saturday, July 30, 2011

Me And Facebook

If there is one good thing that can be said about Facebook it is that it gives you a shocking daily lesson about how stupid all your Facebook friends are. The reason it is shocking is because if you are normal, which most of the people on Facebook are not, the people who you have culled from the general facebook population to be your "friends" are every bit as stupid as the people you have rejected as "friends," the only difference being their motivation for being stupid: the people I have as "friends" are not beating me over the head with their stupidity as would the people I defriend or never become friends with in the first place. Even among my "friends" which number apparently a hundred and thirty....about 120 of them are "blocked" so that i dont have to see their daily postings which are inanely stupefying and center around their pets and their gullibility regarding Facebook scams. Because there are a LOT of people who thing Facebook is actually real, a separate planet, a safe haven for their imbecilic brain static and loose cranial wiring discharges which take the form of self congratulatory expressions of goodwill and gentle caring, usually typed with their elbows so's not to get donut glaze onto the keys whereas Facebook is actually a creeping marketing computer program that learns your likes and dislikes about everything and sends appropriate messages about you to sellers and con artists and agencies of the government involved with putting people into prison. Facebook is basically a weapon which you turn upon yourself to see how long it takes for Facebook to destroy you. The only people Facebook is not a threat to are 7 year old girls whose Facebook vocabulary is limited to the word "Yaaaaaay!" If you say the word yaaaaaay in print on an electronic public medium you are probably - unlike the President of the United States - not going to be selling fully automatic shoulder -braced weapons to the Mexicans so they can shoot American citizens on American turf.

Tuesday, July 26, 2011

Laguna Festival of the Arts

Every year in Laguna - an enclave of rich white people located in a peaceful curve of the california coastline basically immune to rough seas for some reason - the city government conducts an "art" extravaganza the focus of which is a world-renowned recreation of famous artworks using human beings. It is hailed globally for its relentless ingenuity. It also gives the locals a chance to paint the nipples of Laguna hotties who are used in the paintings of scantily clad Maxfield Parrish nymphs or strident French Amazons in curtain-y clothing with a breast exposed leading the brave French to victory. It's all quite an achievement. It's like a static version of the Rose Parade in its splendor and preparation. Beyond all of this creative grandeur however is a triad of plots in the vicinity which host "artists." There is the more hoity toity "main location" which hawks the goods of local Laguna "artists" someone or other consider to be "quality" "artists." These are trained craftsmen who can paint sappy pictures of women at the seashore or sappy pictures of barns better than the other craftsmen in town who are not quite so good at it: these people who are not quite so good at it go to a location across the street which delights in considering itself the less snobby venue for "art" created by a more down to earth sort of folk. People who don't have galleries on the main highway in other words. Then there is a third location nearby that has "international art" which means sappy craftsmen who have a little better handle on marketing their sappy crafts and who might live as far away as Tiajuana or Vancouver. There are basically two main streets in Laguna, one runs parallel to the ocean and one runs perpendicular to that and travels through the bottom of Laguna Canyon at the end of which is the small beach of Laguna. There is not a lot of room to maneuver a car in other words except at 3 in the morning when there are no cars but yours. At three in the afternoon however during the 2-month-long "art" festival there is a pileup in three direction at the end of the canyon where it meets the road along the shoreline that backs up cars in three directions. It would be four if there was a road going from the end of the canyon out into the ocean that reached Peru. In the old days - five years ago - Laguna was a place in California where if you lived in the Los Angeles environs and you were white but not rich you could go to Laguna and just bask in the reflected light of blond, white-skinned American Success Families. Happy dads, well-groomed moms and hot daughters and well behaved sons living their lives in a white compound of quiet and upscale food emporiums and a smogless sunlight of sea air and no fog. However now the Mexicans and the Iraqis and the Palestinians and the Somalians and the Armenians and the El Salvadorans and the Pakistanis and the Indians and the Jordanians and the
Turks have decided that Laguna is just the place for them and now it is a diverse, multi cultural melting pot of big fat third world pigs who all seem to have SUV's and 300 rootbeer skinned kids and a need to barbeque and play volleyball and plop their fat asses onto the tiny beach and burp while leaning back on their hands and stretching their legs in front of them and looking at nothing and thinking about refried beans.

Saturday, July 2, 2011

Why I Hate Indians

Reading this charming tale of retarded stone age primitive shamanism will give you SOME idea of why I cant stand "Indians." or indigenous aborigines as i call them. This fucking redskin just can't WAIT to regale his grandkids with the story of the fire and how they prayed to the Wapoompa to make it stop but the eagle swooped against the crow and the Mameemee the fire goddess blew against the forest and the sacred lands were destroyed. Yeah well if you lived in fucking houses in Reno instead of in mud huts on a fucking reservation you wouldn't have to give a shit. He's all excited because a hundred years from now - when his decendants will i guarantee you still be living in the trees and the rocks and the shrubs instead of in suburbia - this story of ruin in the sacred lands can be retold. This is why I hate adults: they lie to children. Which to me is about the worst crime you can commit short of fucking them physically, instead of just intellectually.