It's Adam & Eve not Adam & Steve, but Amanda & Eve are ok if they're both hot...
11:11 PM | Posted by
Philemon
Oh, those precocious faggots are at it again!
I won't get into the legal mumbo jumbo, though I could. It would just make you sleepy. To sum up; some judicious dude in California overturned the gay marriage ban that was invoked by proposition 8.
You can read his entire ruling here: http://jaysays.com/wp-content/uploads/2010/08/decision.pdf
You probably should since it is some of the most wonderfully written common sense I've encountered recently. The part I love the best though is that he comes right out and says, “Hey, you uptight religious people...this is NOT about you. It never was, it doesn't affect you, so shut the fuck up.”
The shut the fuck up part was just me improvising.
Marriage in the Unites States is a civil matter, not a religious one. They can perform the ceremony to "make it official" but they still need a marriage license. And a religious institution's acceptance or non-acceptance of a marriage means nothing under state law. I can declare myself Pope all I want, make up certificates, and even wear a pointy hat...it all means nothing if the Vatican doesn't recognize me as Pope.
Nobody is telling these institutions, or ANYONE for that matter, that they aren't allowed to say that they think gay marriage is wrong. Go right ahead. You're allowed. Nobody is trying to take your small mindedness away from you. And, this is the kicker for me; nobody is forcing any religious institution to perform gay marriage ceremonies. Listen long enough and you'd think homosexuals are some form of spiritual termite, eating away at people's faith. That's some strong faith you got there if the Village People are a threat to it.
I just don’t get it.
Maybe it's because I'm more open minded.
Maybe it's because I know quite a few homosexuals, and know that they are good people trying to live their lives happily.
Maybe it's because I've seen some gay couples grow old together and seen one of them die and their partner left destitute because they didn't have the same protections as a heterosexual spouse.
Maybe it's because I've seen so many heterosexual people treat marriage like it's a joke, and then rally against homosexual marriage as if getting married by an Elvis impersonator is somehow sacred.
Maybe it's because I don't believe in a book written by chauvinistic, fearful and ignorant men that thought, "Hey, wouldn't it be cool if God thought we were the most awesome and cool group of people on the planet, and he would smite anyone that was mean to us! Shit, if we could convince people that this was true we could make all kinds of rules to our advantage. And I bet no one would ever mess with us again!!" Ouch, that last part kind of backfired on you, didn’t it? Didn’t leave enough Bibles in hotel rooms in Germany, eh?
What, too soon? Maybe it’s only funny when people of faith treat a group of people like they’re less than human. My bad.
Maybe it's because of all of these things that I don't consider this to even be an issue. They deserve the right to a civil marriage and the government protections that come with it. To say otherwise is to say they are less than human. And remember, I said human for all you assholes that like to say, “Well if we allow this then people will want to marry their dog!” NO! No no no no no you ignorant fucks!! You do realize you just said that a homosexual is the equivalent of a dog, right? You're an idiot.
I'm also very happy that I do think this way. I like to think it means evolution hasn't passed me by as I hear my Dad listening to the news and saying that he hopes this gets to the Supreme Court before Obama puts another fag loving liberal on the bench. My relief at not being like my Dad isn't because he's a bad person. He isn't a bad person. He’s just misguided like so many others...misguided by a faith that doesn't allow for free thinking and ignores the most important lesson it teaches, to love one another.
More and more the saying, "The road to hell is paved with good intentions" makes sense to me. I don't know if the person that said it meant it to be taken the way I take it. I see it as those who are well meaning and truly love their fellow man are on a path away from the heaven that religion offers.
I'm sorry if this offends anyone reading this, but your sense of superiority offends me. I'll take your forgiveness as a given.
I Make A Difference!
10:11 PM | Posted by
Philemon
Today, at least in the utterly vanquished acropolis in which I live, is Make A Difference Day.
This means that the local newspaper lines the city streets with brightly shirted, and likely unemployed, "volunteers" to sell their rag for an extra 50 cents. That extra 50 cents goes toward making a difference in the lives of local children. I can only assume that means taking them from their birth parents and exporting them to a third world country....or Cleveland...so they have a better chance at a prosperous existence.
Now I'm sure some of you are saying, "Oh, it can't be that bad!” You people can just zip it. I would like you to watch the series Life After Man. It's on one of those educational stations that you regularly avoid watching. Look very closely at how the cities appear about 10 years after man has ceased to exist and no longer takes care of his creations. That is where I live.
Back on topic.
Now I'm usually very deft at avoiding the guerilla tactics employed by these paper hawking Sandinistas. It's not that I don't want to make a difference in the lives of children...it's the fact that I wouldn't pick up a copy of this newspaper if it were free. Homeless people walk to trash bins in other cities because it isn't even fit for a park bench blanket. Children refuse to wear hats made out of it for fear of being mocked for not only wearing a newspaper hat, but an awful one at that. Silly Putty refuses to transfer the print because it's simply too embarrassing. It's just bad is what I'm trying to say.
So I'm able to avoid them at the end of my street by pretending the stop sign is actually a yield sign and squealing my tires around the corner. I hit the next two green lights like clockwork and resist the urge to cackle maniacally with my window rolled down. Then I turn on to Pine Avenue and it's time to take things seriously. I have to run the single lane, slow traffic, high pedestrian gauntlet on the only street left in the city with more businesses than boarded up windows.
I'm far too clever for them though. The real trick is to never make eye contact and never ever pull all the way up to a red light. Hang back until it changes and then gun it...laughter and rude gestures as you go by entirely optional. Mission accomplished as I pull into Tim Horton's for my coffee, as at this point I'm home free and have a clear shot to work.
You, dear reader, would have had quite a laugh as the smug look fell off my face when I was assaulted by the sight of brightly colored shirts waiting at the entrance to the drive thru.
*shakes fist at the heavens*
Oh you clever bastards. Not only did they find the highest traffic area in the entire city, a Tim Horton's drive thru, they staffed it with the two cutest (and probably only financially compensated) girls they could find. One blonde and one brunette in shirts quite obviously a few sizes too small. These tabloid tarts had already sold about three stacks of newspapers. No clearer case of entrapment have I ever witnessed. I was simply done for.
So there is blight upon my desk at work today in the form of an awful newspaper. And there are two cute girls with free cups of coffee somewhere in the city, probably receiving an award for breaking a sales record.
Kudos ladies...kudos.
She's Truly Outrageous
1:07 AM | Posted by
jenniy
 |
| Poster girl for dissociative personality disorder |
Jerrica transformed from herself to Jem by aid of a hologram machine and a pair of nifty earrings which would envelope her in Jem's image. And, of course, no girl show is complete without some romance. In this case, the love interest was actually unwittingly digging on both personalities. What do you do when you find out your boyfriend is cheating on you with yourself?
I also used to have this Barbie style family of dolls called the Heart family.
That is correct. Before the age of ten, I made Jem into a cheap homewrecker. That bitch.
But, don't let this fool you into thinking something negative about my perceptions of relationships and that perhaps I'm wired all wrong or my parents' relationship had my views skewed. My parents did get divorced by the time I was 12 but it had nothing to do with infidelity. I'm fairly certain neither of them were cheaters. And, the affairs Mr. Heart had with Jem had nothing to do with the drama of a secret relationship. They snuck around, sure. They hung out on the plastic furniture and she brought over plastic fruit in full rocker costume. She never once saw him in her Jerrica attire. And here's why: in my mind, Mr. Heart simply thought Jem was the coolest girl he'd ever seen.
Jem was something completely different from his American dream family. She loved music and dancing. They listened to Cyndi Lauper and moved around the house singing along. She made up songs for him and dressed differently. She did her own thing and wasn't afraid to be an upwardly mobile woman of the 80s. Okay, so my mind at the time couldn't conceive the term "upwardly mobile woman of the 80s" but I knew she supported herself and didn't need a damn dime of his while his prude of a wife couldn't have gotten a job if her life depended on it (and she'd end up living on alimony checks for the rest of her life). Who wouldn't want the cool girl who could sing her ass off and had flashy earrings? Mr. Heart just couldn't resist.
And, that's why the affair began. I thought Jem was badass. The influence of such a character seems pretty small when your child is watching cartoons on Saturday mornings while you're doing the laundry or sleeping in, but here I am today with that influence still quite apparent with my love of music, self sufficiency, education, tattoos, unique style, and outside the box thinking. Fuck am I ever glad my mom never got the depth of a show like Jem...I imagine I'd be sucking down Xanax in massive quantities right now if my life were anything like that of the nauseatingly domestic Mrs. Heart.
That One Song
11:25 PM | Posted by
Philemon
We all have bands that we feel connected to on another level. The ones that we have what would be considered a torrid love affair with. Some we lose touch with and we only have memories. Some retire from making and playing music and slip into being "classic". Some stay with us no matter what and we wait for every new album and buy tickets the first day when we know they're coming to town. We feel like they are our band. We feel closer to someone that shares a love for that band. It cuts us if someone claims they don't like them, because it's pretty much an attack on ourselves.
We like all kinds of music, but that kind of relationship with a band is rare. And like any relationship you can trace it back to the moment when it really clicked. With a band, it's usually one song. These are those bands for me at this point in my life, and that one song that made me love them...
Queensryche is the first band that was really mine. Yeah, I liked some bands before them. I was a fan of The Police first, and actually appreciate them more now than I did then. I liked Duran Duran because my sister was obsessed with John Taylor and played them constantly. I moved on to hard rock and heavy metal, finally getting into my own niche when I would visit my cousin and listen to his Maiden, Ozzy, Zeppelin and AC/DC albums. The guitar riff was my new religion. My walls were covered in Maiden and Ozzy posters.
Then one time he put on this tape...Queensryche's Rage for Order. It was alright. The singer was unreal and the guitars were tight, but it was a little too synthy and the sci-fi lyrics were kind of out there. A few years later I'm listening to the radio and I hear they have a new album coming out. A concept album. That was new for me and then the radio played one of the songs. The singer was still unreal but the guitars were tighter and heavier and the drums were pounding. And it was about a serious political and religious shit and this was right about the time I was starting to watch the news and learn not to blindly trust those in power, and to question my faith. To think for myself. The song was "Speak" and I they've been my band ever since....
Queensryche - Speak
Uploaded by EMI_Music. - Watch more music videos, in HD!
Pearl Jam was the second band that hooked me. I was maybe a junior in high school when grunge hit. I fully embraced the scene and was into all the music. I think the kind of music we're into in high school will always be the genre we relate to the most. That we listen to most often, know the most about, and remember the most fondly.
Pearl Jam was just another band in a blossoming scene when I first heard them. They were obviously something a little different sound wise, but this I was an MTv kid and sometimes visuals can trick us and a band will get lost in the crowd. Pearl Jam wasn't any more special than Nirvana or Soundgarden to me even after hearing Alive, Evenflow and Jeremy. Then I was watching them on Unplugged. And they played that one song...and it was a synergy of music, lyrics and performance that caught me. There was more to them than just grunge and flannel. They were just playing fucking rock music and the music means everything to them. The song was "Porch"...
I don't need to spend much time talking about Tool. They are artists. Geniuses. They bend my mind along with my ears. Visually and aurally. There is nothing quite like them. Everyone should see them live at least once.
I'm sitting on a couch at home watching MTv and this video comes on and...Riveted doesn't quite cut it. Really, love at first sight/sound does exist. Sober....
Finally there's Bad Religion. I wish this was the first band I was talking about. I find them until I was in college, which was over a decade into their existence. I was talking about punk music with a few friends and someone brought up Bad Religion. My response was, "Oh yeah, those 21st Century Digital Boy guys...I didn't think they were punk". The look I received is probably the same you've given someone that said something you considered to be the epitome of ignorance. And I deserved that look.
The same friend made me a copy of their album Suffer and told me to listen to it. I put it on in the background while I was working on some project about representing the elements in abstraction that was utterly boring me to death. I was nodding my head to the music, enjoying it but only letting it wash over me...not really catching any lyrics. I knew I was going to like them and seek out more because the music was really getting me. Then that one song came on...I played it back over and over, rewinding the tape, getting into the lyrics. This was punk with brains...with a message. And I was totally fucking digging it. "You're a sidewalk cipher speaking prionic jive". "What the fuck" was all I had after deciphering that.
I've probably become a bigger fan than the guy who gave me the tape. Give You Nothing....
Construction Paper Heart
1:19 AM | Posted by
jenniy
In fact, part of me felt I deserved every humiliating, excruciating moment I had endured over the course of the day. Even now, I feel in so many ways, that it could never be punishment enough for making the choice I did. I will live with the fact that I terminated a pregnancy and what that means for the rest of my life, and I hope one day it weighs less heavily on my heart.
This life as I know it has had ups and downs just as the majority of everyone else’s has. At this point, though, I am a single mom working full time while simultaneously in graduate school. My life is generally divided between my funny, adorable 4 year old, my job, schoolwork, and housework. My free time, what little I have, is divided between writing, friends, and music…activities which often overlap. Most of my days are chaotic at best from trying to cram everything in, and I’m often stressed from not being able to get all I want done in a day.
Being a single mom not only means you’re busy, but, unfortunately, it also means I’m broke as hell. I struggle every month to juggle bills and buy groceries. Sometimes I barely make it. Alright, honestly, most of the time I’m barely making it. I do not receive child support most weeks and the continual lack of those funds has kept me sliding further away from financial stability. Everyone I know keeps telling me it will all work out and my busy schedule from attending school will be worth it in the end. Some days I only make it through without crying myself to sleep because I trust they’re right. Other days I soak my pillow because the light at the end of the tunnel just seems further away all the time.
So, when I missed my menstrual cycle, my period, the crimson tide, or whatever silly name you give it, I went immediately into panic mode. I have no time and no money. I don’t even have health insurance since I had to cancel mine a few months back just to help keep food on the table. Thinking it over on my own in those first, tense, still-hoping-to-get-my-period days, I knew the person who shared responsibility for the possible pregnancy was not in any better a position than I was. It seemed pretty hopeless and I felt a growing despair as my panic increased by the day.
The two of us, as friends, partners, and responsible parties, sat down to have “the talk” about the now-week-late cycle and positive EBT urine stick results. Needless to say, I was terrified and tearful. He kept pretty calm and the both of us agreed we really did not have much choice. We certainly did not feel like we did. He expressed his feelings about not being in the best financial place and I acknowledged that truth for us both. I have one child and haven’t considered having another and he hasn’t felt the desire to have any children at all. Given both our situations and all the circumstances of our individual lives and our relationship, terminating the pregnancy seemed to be the only option which would lend to less than disastrous results.
Making that decision, even while feeling it was the right decision, still felt so ugly. A lot of people would fault me and likely say those feelings resulted from my mind screaming at me not to “take a life” but those people would be wrong. I know my body was being flooded by hormones urging me to protect the already growing fetus inside me and overall, I kept feeling like I was taking a puppy I’d brought home into the woods to shoot it because I could no longer feed it or pay for its care. But, every time I looked at my child and heard him giggle, every time he hugged me tight, or called my name, I felt even stronger that it was me and him against the world and given our current fight, it wouldn’t be too fair to anyone, especially him, to bring a baby on board.
So, sitting in that recliner after one of the most painful experiences of my life trying to ignore the heartfelt messages of hopeful inspiration taped to the walls around me, I was, indeed, angry on top of everything else. I was angry that no one talks about this. I was angry that none of my friends (except my closest) kept telling me to think it over and be sure. Friends who I know have gone through this before would not step up and tell me what to expect, how it would feel, and how I would feel. Everyone offered to help if I’d keep it…people that don’t even help me now when I can’t even afford to send my child to daycare some weeks. I was angry that all the information I’d gotten from the clinic implied explicitly that it would feel like “bad” menstrual cramps and that I could return to work the next day. The receptionists were extra friendly to deceive me into believing I’d meet with an understanding staff and while most were, the most important wasn’t. The physician himself, the person responsible for vacuuming my uterus, was cold. He wasn’t the least bit concerned or attentive. More over, he was pushing open the cervixes of terrified women of all legal ages like he was working an assembly line he’d grown jaded with long ago.
Some of these girls were sitting in recliners surrounding mine and their faces all let on the betrayal and fear they felt. None of us would talk or even make eye contact with one another while the shame and pain continued to wash over us. Personally, I have not talked to many people about this at all. In fact, only a handful of people know period and of those who do, only a couple know how I truly feel about it all. Talking it over is difficult when it seems impossible to truly express your range of emotions to someone who has never been in your position…even your partner is incapable, it seems, since they will never know what it feels like to carry a child or lose one by choice. To all the girls who shared my pain in the room of recliners, we shouldn’t have let each other sit there in stony silence. I, myself, could have used a knowing hug. We never should have let our mixed emotions keep us from reaching out to one another. To all my friends and not yet friends, I’ll listen and cry with you if you ever need an understanding ear. I won’t shut you out and I’ll be honest about what I went through myself. You’ll need it.
To M…you’re always the exception.
To my son…dude, your mom loves you enough to make the toughest decisions of all time so don’t give her too much shit. She loves you infinity plus five.
Baroness Versus Rush: Beards and Undescended Testicles
3:05 AM | Posted by
jenniy
Chronic Youth describes itself as a celebration of the brutal culture with much attention paid to more hardcore forms of music. I wasn't really surprised when I found the contest rules to simply say:
How to Win?
Email info@chronicyouth.com and tell us why Baroness is or isn’t better than Rush. The dude or chick with the best answer wins this motherfucker. Word.
Submit your response by July 15, 2010 and Relapse will send the poster to your house or place of business or wherever.
I was immediately intrigued by the possibilities of such an essay. I assumed at the time, wrongly, that such an answer required thought and research laid out in an essay style format, but there I go letting my tits and estrogen do my thinking for me again. However, at the time, I immediately set out to work considering the two bands, listening to songs of both, asking opinions of others and putting together my ideas. Eventually, with the help of a couple j's in my editing pocket, I ended up with the following answer:
Baroness versus Rush is an impossible debate. It’s not really an apples to oranges comparison but more like a new hybrid apple-pear combination fruit versus a red delicious apple.
In such a debate, some are assuredly going to argue for Rush because of their contributions to progressive rock and their long standing place in rock history. Both are sound arguments. We’re talking about a band which is third in line for consecutive albums reaching gold and platinum status outnumbered only by the Beatles and the Rolling Stones. Some will also argue for Rush because of their outstanding musical abilities especially with Neil Peart being considered one of the greatest drummers of all time. No doubt, though, after more than 3 decades of playing, these guys have continued to grow musically cementing their legendary status.
Baroness fans, on the other hand, are likely to mention the band’s unique, indefinable sound which seems to encompass elements of sludge, doom, progressive metal, blues, Southern rock, and more. Some will also point out that Baroness has created quite a presence in a relatively short amount of time, at least in the underground scene. And, they have considering their growing popularity after only releasing their first 3 song EP in 2004. With only 2 full length albums under their belt, the band has created quite a stir.
The validity of arguments on both sides is what makes this a difficult choice. Baroness versus Rush. Rush versus Baroness. This is the equivalent of a superhero debate for comic book nerds. Superman is a faster than a speeding bullet, more powerful than a locomotive alien and he can kick any superhero’s ass. Oh yeah? Well, Spiderman’s internal struggle was much deeper therefore making him the stronger of the two with a sense of mystery and he’s wicked cool so he’ll get laid way more than Superman and still kick his ass. Who really wins in the realm of comics and saving the day? Both have some pretty decent qualities but really, is there a right answer to the question? It’s similar here, but hardpressed for an answer, I have to go with Baroness. For me, this choice comes down to love for music on the purest of levels--Baroness moves me on levels Rush will never reach and I’d be willing to bet a lot of Baroness fans and fans of sludge, doom, stoner, progressive metal, etc are going to feel the same. (Although, it might be fun to overhear a bar conversation on who would kick who’s ass out of Allen Blickle and Neil Peart.)
Rush gets my head bobbing in time to the rhythm but Baroness reaches in deep, pulling me a little higher. Can I soar on the Wailing Wintry Wind? Perhaps. Just seconds into Tower Falls, Red Sky, Isak….hit the 31 second mark of O’Appalachia and whatever state my reality has existed in is automatically improved. I’ve seen Baroness live. Just once. It was the Blue Record release at the Jinx, the bar in Savannah in whose basement the band actually used to practice. It was an emotionally charged experience for those guys--celebrating their second album where they actually started out--and one look around me made it clear that a good number of my peers were feeling the intensity. We were all existing on a higher level than when we walked through the doors of that bar and by the time the evening was over, we had something we’d carry with us for quite a long time, etched in memory.
For my generation, Baroness wins. The lyrics are ambiguous without the preachiness, pretentiousness, or fantastical elements often found in Peart’s songs. John Baizley’s vocals rumble across our ear drums with none of Geddy Lee’s high pitched, someone’s-got-me-by-the-balls style. No one’s ever heard Baizley and mistakenly thought it was “badass for a chic to be in that band.” The musical talent of Baroness isn’t lacking and the potential to reach the technically gifted levels of Rush is evident. Baroness may not have the decades behind the legendary Canadian prog rockers or the platinum and gold album sales, but the time put in and the money made doesn’t really tell us who is better.
Simply put, Rush ain’t Baroness. Period.
The winner was announced today. I never once really considered the idea that I'd win. I was just curious how my own essay would compare to the winner's more than anything. I looked forward to a well constructed, humorous critique of the bands I would largely enjoy and be able to use to improve my own writing style when reviewing a band or music. He had this to say:
Rush raped my mom and she couldnt even feel it. Weak. Baroness wrecked her.
So, out of this experience I learned that Chronic Youth really doesn't give a shit about music. In fact, as long as you have an unoriginal, not-even-worth-a-guffaw dick joke and have yet to exit a state of pubescent thinking requiring complex thought and lack of scatological humor, you can rule the world. Thanks guys!!! You just made my life a hell of a lot easier. Now I don't actually have to think to make it through the day.
xoxo
oh and just in case any of you would like to hear what I'm talking about....here's a quick mix list. Enjoy.
John vs John or Why I'm Destined to be a Cat Lady
5:32 AM | Posted by
jenniy
“It appears that countless women born between the years of 1965 and 1978 are in love with John Cusack. I cannot fathom how he isn’t the number-one box-office star in America, because every straight girl I know would sell her soul to share a milkshake with that motherfucker. For upwardly mobile women in their twenties and thirties, John Cusack is the neo-Elvis. But here’s what none of these upwardly mobile women seem to realize: They don’t love John Cusack. They love Lloyd Dobler.”
But are we really romantically challenged because of the media or did we create the media monster which continually commercializes this bullshit notion of love? That’s the real question. People, in general, are always looking for something easy and better--a magic cure all pill that makes you lose 20 lbs, grow perky DD breasts or a fatter bulge in your jeans (fully functional, of course), and find your dream partner all for the low, low price of $9.99 (shipping and handling charges do apply)!!! We want it all. We want it now. And we want it better than ever before with little effort or maintenance. So, can we really lay blame on the media for his or do we really have to blame ourselves? I think, at least from a personal point of view, I’m still blaming John Cusack.
It’s not John Cusack as Lloyd Dobler that has defined my unattainable fantasy guy standards, though. It’s not really John Cusack either, thought I’m sure he’s a swell guy. No, odd as it may sound, no guy can ever match Rob Gordon from the 2001 movie High Fidelity based on the novel by Nick Hornby.Lloyd is charming but fairly clueless. He never really says anything with much depth through the entire movie. His only expressed interests are kickboxing and Diane. He’s only funny when he’s nervous and chattering without forethought. He’s an all around nice guy--checking on his date at parties, moving glass shards our of her path, sending her sweet notes… He’s great with kids but only because he’s still just a kid himself. He’s cute, quirky, and sweet, and I suppose for any younger girl watching this movie back in 1989 when it came out, Lloyd was quite a dreamboat. Every one of them is still waiting for a lovable, young sort-of hunk to blare “In Your Eyes” from a boombox into their bedroom windows. Lots of girls even seeing it now, over 20 years after the fact, are likely still waiting on the very same thing.
Then there’s me and other women like me (maybe).
In High Fidelity, when Rob Gordon theorized that it’s not what you like but what you like that counts, my heart swelled. Finally! Finally, someone was stating a fact I was so sure of myself. I’m guilty of wanting to know about and judging a person based on movie, music, and old cartoon likes and dislikes at the very least. If I can’t find some common ground with someone on these topics, I cannot maintain any interest whatsoever. Just as when he discusses his date with Marie de Salle and says based on said common interests, he was having the best date of his life, I have always judged dates and first conversations by the same token. Honestly, these are prioritized before religious and political beliefs.
So, Chuck Klosterman, is, at least, partially right. The media is responsible for a fraction of our dissatisfaction in relationships. I don’t think it can be said it’s all because of the media’s fake love obsession. I think sometimes there are just characters our real counterparts cannot live up to and that adds its own element.
No matter how often I talk to pursuers about my love of mix tapes, I never get one. Most of the assholes I meet are rarely as interested in music as they are video games and no one seems to get how important it is to find common ground in what you like. Who cares if you’re an upstanding, loving guy with solid morals and a good job? If you can’t sit through Fear and Loathing with me or put up with my occasional 80s marathons or days spent in bed watching old cartoons, you may as well fuck off.
I may be doomed for failure, but who really knows? Chuck Klosterman’s gotten married since he wrote that essay laying blame on John so maybe there’s hope yet. Or maybe I should just make a Rob Gordon shrine, name my dildo after him, and adopt 10 cats.
