I used to study mining engineering at the University of Western Australia. It's a big, lovely campus full of intellectual snobs, rich kids and high schoolers who didn't know what they wanted to do with their lives except make money. It's also is the place where I met some of the best friends I have, so I guess it goes both ways.
While studying there, I used to spend some of my breaks in the co-op book shop, just reading any random thing in the section at the very back. The reason for this was two-fold; I'm pretty ADD so I couldn't commit to studying for any long period of time and there was no free internet access so it was the best place to just read whatever and let my mind wander, and also because no-one would scold me for reading and not buying anything because no-one would see me. I usually just flipped through anything that looked interesting, reading odd pages here and there, but I remember very clearly once reading an entire book, cover to cover, one fateful afternoon. The book was called The Underachiever's Manifesto and it would have to rank as one of the most philosophically spot-on books I've ever read. Every word just dripped with truth, it was beautiful.
The underlying message of the book was this; We're all working too hard, we've made a fetish of the overachiever. We've come to idolise those who work their lives away achieving everything that everyone else wants them to do, and this is more responsible for the health problems and relationship breakdowns in the first world than anything else.
Think about this for a while. We're expected to take our work home with us at school, at university and in our careers. We're expected to cherish overtime. It's frowned upon to take breaks and seen as lazy to not be constantly thinking about the demands on you. Anything that could harm our future employment prospects is advised against, regardless of how fulfilling or entertaining it is. Our entire lives are built around the expenditure of our energy to hoard goods and expend more energy keeping the system going.
I'm not living in a naive fantasy world, I know that in reality you need money to live. This is an inescapable fact of existence, death and taxes, all that jazz. However, I find it incredibly bizarre at just how pervasive the "live to work" idea really is. We can convince ourselves that we "work to live" but realistically, this isn't true. Very few people can honestly say that they fit their work around their life. This is messed up on a fair few levels.
Yeah, I'm a socialist. I do believe that all the work that needs to be done in order to give everyone an equal, high quality standard of life can be shared equally among all people. I do believe that striving to keep up with the Jones' is a culturally destructive practice. I do believe that some people's desire to be successful harms not only themselves, but others. There's a finite amount of money in the world (anyone who denies this doesn't know dick about economics. One unit of currency represents a percentage of the overall wealth of the nation. You can't just print more because it devalues the currency and screws everyone over, see German pre- and post-WW2) so in order for you to get rich, other people have to get poorer. Fact. Your desire to be a millionaire can effectively be translated into a desire to take the wealth from other people and put it in your pocket.
So, I've been called unambitious. Why? Apparently my goals in life are lazy. What goals, you ask? Work a job I don't hate (preferably like, and with any luck that'll happen), make enough to support myself and any dependents I may have in the future, own my own house and have enough time for my hobbies and friends. That doesn't strike me as too selfish, and with the exception of the first part (some jobs are shitty, but they do need doing), there is enough wealth in Australia for everyone to be able to do this. The problem is, when you start tacking more demands on top of this, it all starts to fall through.
If you want to own 5 properties, that's 4 properties at any given time that aren't being used by you, but are unavailable for purchase by anyone else. So you're fucking up the housing market and making it harder for people (especially young people. Like me, for example) to own their own home. And don't just say they should just work harder and make more money because, as we've discussed, not everyone can do that, by default. Not everyone can be rich.
The problem isn't that poor people are lazy and stupid. This is some bizarre, objectivist viewpoint that, for some reason, is really pervasive in right-wing philosophy. It's not grounded in reality, it's babies first philosophy for those who don't understand sociology or economics. Or empathy for that matter. The reason there's a massive wealth disparity in every country in the world, and in the world as a whole, is because in order for you to have more, someone has to have less. The problem is that people are greedy and want to one-up everyone else. This is childish and impossible.
The free-market is perfectly natural? How about go fuck yourself, you've demonstrated a brilliant lack of understanding on how society functions. Humans are a social species. The reason we have every advance ever is because human knowledge is collected and shared throughout the species. The reason early man flourished is because a group would take down a kill for the entire tribe to feast upon. The belief that humans are competitive and not co-operative is not only wrong, it's anti-science, anti-history and an ideology that sets back the human race's constant struggle for an easier existence with stubbornness and bullish ignorance. The belief that you, and you alone, are entitled to the sweat of your brow is anti-human and makes you a selfish douche that doesn't deserve to live. If you honestly believe in the awesome power of the individual and that your only goal should be to get as fat and wealthy as possible, get the fuck out of my society and my race, we don't want you. Everyone's sweat belongs to everyone.
I don't mean to get angry and ranty here, but I'm tired of selfish arseholes who get high off other people's shoulders all the while congratulating themselves and masturbating to their own brilliance, and I'm tired of being told that I'll have to work myself to death to be like them. Fuck that. We're all in this together, and you're not a genius visionary by trying to get ahead at the expense of others. You should be fucking thankful that natural selection stopped being relevant since we started engineering our own environments, because you're exactly the kind of selfish, self-destructive dickhead who'd leave the wider safety of society and forcibly remove themselves from the gene pool. Only now, you don't remove yourself from society, you just exploit it, you douche. You might be savvy, but you're also a self serving, unlikeable douche who deserves nothing but expulsion and censure. Fuck you, fuck overachievers that help them and fuck Republicans/Labour & Libs/Conservatives/every right wing party.
Wednesday, September 28, 2011
Monday, September 26, 2011
The Last Whiny Man Harps On
I hate being wrong, it really gets to me. It mostly gets to me because my view of reality is the single greatest view there is, and anything that is inconsistent with my view of reality is in some way flawed, substandard or just plain unpleasant. So yeah, being wrong isn't a great thing for me. But what's even worse is when other people are right. I don't mean in the "molecular biologist knows more about cell mitosis than I do" way, I mean more in the "some stupid unfounded claim happens to be true via fluke and now the person thinks they're a genius" way.
I refuse to play poker with people who don't understand statistics for just that reason. "Oh, you should just play every hand, if you fold you've automatically lost!" No, wrong. Wrong, wrong, wrong. You scurry away to save your pennies for when you have a good hand... ugh, can't be bothered explaining it. It's the kind of person that goes all in on nothing then rivers a straight or something and now they think that they just know poker, when really their approach was completely and totally stupid and the odds were ridiculously high against them but they jagged a win despite being a retard! That kind of person, I hate those.
Can we make a distinction between being "right" and being "correct"? There isn't really a distinction in their current definitions, but for my purposes I'd like to make one: "Right" refers to your statement becoming true, while "correct" refers to your statement being informed, consistent with reality and not extraordinary or outlandish considering the outside stimulus. To use a silly example, say water was falling from the sky, which happens to be grey and cloudy. Now, you could make the claim that it's raining, or you could make the claim that a plane, carrying water, noiselessly exploded high in the atmosphere above you, obscured by the clouds, and that's where the water is coming from. At this point, these statements are both unproven, but one is more valid than the other, right? If it does come to pass that it was raining, you are both right and correct. If the plane scenario is the one that happened, however, you may be right, but you still aren't correct.
Following so far? The reason you aren't correct in the second instance is because you had no reason to believe that a water carrying plane noiselessly exploded above the clouds. There's no evidence of any of this; planes rarely (if ever, I can't think of a time where they would) carry large payloads of nothing but water, you have no aural, visible or tangible evidence that it's the case and the claim is quite extraordinary, relying on a lot of very specific things to happen at the the same time. So although your statement may in fact be consistent with what happened in reality at that exact moment, that doesn't make it correct, even though it's right.
Hypothetically, you could be correct, but not right at a given time. Flukes happen all the time. You may have quite luckily hit two sevens and a two to give you a full house out of the worst hand in a game of Texas Hold 'Em, (not explaining this all the way through, just take my word for it) but that doesn't mean you were smarter, or more insightful, or whatever. You got lucky. Hence, not correct, but still right. If you folded that hand, you'd be correct, but ultimately you wouldn't be right because in that specific instance playing the hand would have yielded a good result. However, you played the odds and should be commended. Well done, you were correct.
Unfortunately, this distinction between "right" and "correct" is a mere pipe dream for me, the man with the logic fetish. I suppose I'll have to remain content with... fuck, I couldn't think of a way to finish that sentence. Let's go with beer.
P.S. Yes, this post is a not-so-subtle dig at 2012 end-of-the-world believers, but it's been bugging me lately. I thought I was being all arty and metaphorical, but upon writing it I realise it's pretty obvious.
I refuse to play poker with people who don't understand statistics for just that reason. "Oh, you should just play every hand, if you fold you've automatically lost!" No, wrong. Wrong, wrong, wrong. You scurry away to save your pennies for when you have a good hand... ugh, can't be bothered explaining it. It's the kind of person that goes all in on nothing then rivers a straight or something and now they think that they just know poker, when really their approach was completely and totally stupid and the odds were ridiculously high against them but they jagged a win despite being a retard! That kind of person, I hate those.
Can we make a distinction between being "right" and being "correct"? There isn't really a distinction in their current definitions, but for my purposes I'd like to make one: "Right" refers to your statement becoming true, while "correct" refers to your statement being informed, consistent with reality and not extraordinary or outlandish considering the outside stimulus. To use a silly example, say water was falling from the sky, which happens to be grey and cloudy. Now, you could make the claim that it's raining, or you could make the claim that a plane, carrying water, noiselessly exploded high in the atmosphere above you, obscured by the clouds, and that's where the water is coming from. At this point, these statements are both unproven, but one is more valid than the other, right? If it does come to pass that it was raining, you are both right and correct. If the plane scenario is the one that happened, however, you may be right, but you still aren't correct.
Following so far? The reason you aren't correct in the second instance is because you had no reason to believe that a water carrying plane noiselessly exploded above the clouds. There's no evidence of any of this; planes rarely (if ever, I can't think of a time where they would) carry large payloads of nothing but water, you have no aural, visible or tangible evidence that it's the case and the claim is quite extraordinary, relying on a lot of very specific things to happen at the the same time. So although your statement may in fact be consistent with what happened in reality at that exact moment, that doesn't make it correct, even though it's right.
Hypothetically, you could be correct, but not right at a given time. Flukes happen all the time. You may have quite luckily hit two sevens and a two to give you a full house out of the worst hand in a game of Texas Hold 'Em, (not explaining this all the way through, just take my word for it) but that doesn't mean you were smarter, or more insightful, or whatever. You got lucky. Hence, not correct, but still right. If you folded that hand, you'd be correct, but ultimately you wouldn't be right because in that specific instance playing the hand would have yielded a good result. However, you played the odds and should be commended. Well done, you were correct.
Unfortunately, this distinction between "right" and "correct" is a mere pipe dream for me, the man with the logic fetish. I suppose I'll have to remain content with... fuck, I couldn't think of a way to finish that sentence. Let's go with beer.
P.S. Yes, this post is a not-so-subtle dig at 2012 end-of-the-world believers, but it's been bugging me lately. I thought I was being all arty and metaphorical, but upon writing it I realise it's pretty obvious.
Monday, September 19, 2011
You Aren't Funny.
Not everyone can be funny, just like not everyone can be tall. Some people have a speech impediment. Others have a particularly slow mind that isn't suited for the intellectual rigors of wit. This is not your fault, you just need to accept it and try not to be funny. You can still contribute to the conversation, I'm sure you're a lovely person, but your attempts at humour make me stop laughing. This is the opposite of what everyone wanted to happen.
The unfunny person will generally fall into one of these categories:
The "Way Too Obscure". This person is very knowledgeable about a subject (or group of subjects) and on their own may be very interesting. I have a few friends like this, and while they are a great time when we're both ranting about politics or anime (I don't actually know that much about anime) or the pre-amps of American made guitar amplifiers from the 60's (this is a thing that I talk about), when you get them into general company, they are mood poison. The constant attempts to tie it back to their area of knowledge alienate basically everyone else, but they stare at me with the little puppy dog eyes and so I have to give a courtesy chuckle even though I'm thinking "jesus, dude, pick your audience."
The "Way Too Intense". This person gives a shit about EVERYTHING. They have endless reserves of enthusiasm and interest for any little thing that comes up, and try very hard to get everyone else feeling just as fired up as they are. This is the kind of person that screams "FUCK YEAH!" in a quiet pub when you mention you're grabbing crisps. No matter how much you try to indicate that this is neither the time nor the place for Mexican waves, the "Way Too Intense" will try to turn everything into a cause for celebration, from the fact that you agree on some innocuous piece of trivia to the arrival of a drink at the table. Soon after, no-one else you are with will have energy for any conversation at all, because any slight point of interest will set the foghorn off.
The "Book of Quotes". You know this guy. This guy watches television. And movies. Lots of them. Based on their contributions to every conversation ever, this is all they do. Talking about politics? Simpsons quote. Talking about science? Hangover quote. Talking about how much you hate people that endlessly quote movies and shows rather than coming up with their own contribution to the discourse in a vain attempt to appear intelligent and culturally aware but really they just come off as derivative and thoughtless because half the time the quote isn't even relevant or insightful? Monty Python quote.
The "A Little Too Rude". This person doesn't quite know where the line is, but that won't stop them making a dead baby joke at your Nan's birthday. Or telling everyone about that time they got really drunk and forgot to wear a condom, but it was OK because he pulled out in time in a crowded restaurant. This person makes you want to curl up into the foetal position until the awkwardness goes away forever.
The "Annoying Voice". This person has an annoying voice. Nothing they say is funny or interesting because they have an annoying voice.
The "Poor Timing". This person may be funny if they weren't just that little bit off the mark. Maybe the conversation had just moved on and it's an awkward throwback. Maybe they said something predicting where the conversation was going before it got there. Whatever the reason, this terminally rhythm-free dolt will disrupt the internal flow of any conversation they're a part of, making everyone they're around have to try a little harder just to keep the conversation running.
Think about anyone you know that is terminally unfunny. They fit into one (or more) of these categories, without fail. Or they will now, at least, because you won't be able to stop thinking about what kind of unfunny they are. My work here is done.
The unfunny person will generally fall into one of these categories:
The "Way Too Obscure". This person is very knowledgeable about a subject (or group of subjects) and on their own may be very interesting. I have a few friends like this, and while they are a great time when we're both ranting about politics or anime (I don't actually know that much about anime) or the pre-amps of American made guitar amplifiers from the 60's (this is a thing that I talk about), when you get them into general company, they are mood poison. The constant attempts to tie it back to their area of knowledge alienate basically everyone else, but they stare at me with the little puppy dog eyes and so I have to give a courtesy chuckle even though I'm thinking "jesus, dude, pick your audience."
The "Way Too Intense". This person gives a shit about EVERYTHING. They have endless reserves of enthusiasm and interest for any little thing that comes up, and try very hard to get everyone else feeling just as fired up as they are. This is the kind of person that screams "FUCK YEAH!" in a quiet pub when you mention you're grabbing crisps. No matter how much you try to indicate that this is neither the time nor the place for Mexican waves, the "Way Too Intense" will try to turn everything into a cause for celebration, from the fact that you agree on some innocuous piece of trivia to the arrival of a drink at the table. Soon after, no-one else you are with will have energy for any conversation at all, because any slight point of interest will set the foghorn off.
The "Book of Quotes". You know this guy. This guy watches television. And movies. Lots of them. Based on their contributions to every conversation ever, this is all they do. Talking about politics? Simpsons quote. Talking about science? Hangover quote. Talking about how much you hate people that endlessly quote movies and shows rather than coming up with their own contribution to the discourse in a vain attempt to appear intelligent and culturally aware but really they just come off as derivative and thoughtless because half the time the quote isn't even relevant or insightful? Monty Python quote.
The "A Little Too Rude". This person doesn't quite know where the line is, but that won't stop them making a dead baby joke at your Nan's birthday. Or telling everyone about that time they got really drunk and forgot to wear a condom, but it was OK because he pulled out in time in a crowded restaurant. This person makes you want to curl up into the foetal position until the awkwardness goes away forever.
The "Annoying Voice". This person has an annoying voice. Nothing they say is funny or interesting because they have an annoying voice.
The "Poor Timing". This person may be funny if they weren't just that little bit off the mark. Maybe the conversation had just moved on and it's an awkward throwback. Maybe they said something predicting where the conversation was going before it got there. Whatever the reason, this terminally rhythm-free dolt will disrupt the internal flow of any conversation they're a part of, making everyone they're around have to try a little harder just to keep the conversation running.
Think about anyone you know that is terminally unfunny. They fit into one (or more) of these categories, without fail. Or they will now, at least, because you won't be able to stop thinking about what kind of unfunny they are. My work here is done.
Saturday, September 17, 2011
Russian Circles Review
The Bakery in Northbridge is pretty much the perfect venue for obscure, pretentious prog rock gigs, for good and bad reasons. The entrance being around the back of a club almost completely patronised by caricatures of Jersey Shore characters gives you an overwhelming sense of pretentious smugness as you stride past the line, wearing the shirt of a band they haven't heard of and jeans so skinny you can tell if the wearer is circumcised or not. The floor is sticky, it perpetually smells of marijuana and urine and the bar has regularly run out of the crappy house spirits it exclusively stocks because, apparently, alcohol that doesn't want to make you retch is about as naff as popped collars on pink polo shirts. You can't help but feel all underground and cool when the venue is made entirely out of old shipping containers.
Local opening act Drowning Horse set the bar for self indulgence at a new level of height (or is it depth?) with their two song drone set. My hat goes off to their lead singer though, the man has the easiest job in music. I counted about two minutes of vocals in a fifty minute set, the remainder of the set spent swaying in time to the two power-chord fuzzed out drone that lacked melody, dynamics or even a remotely listenable volume level. Drowning Horse are the fuzztone equivalent of the man who loves the sound of his own voice a little too much.
Experimental four piece Tangled Thoughts of Leaving saved what Drowning Horse had nearly killed (almost went with "drowned" there... but I'm far too talented for that) with their unique brand of piano-led instrumental progressive rock. Keyboardist Aaron Pollard proved that you can rock behind the keys with his lively performance, with a few heart-in-mouth moments where I was afraid he was going to smash his ever-banging head into his synth, and all the while tinkling out flawlessly clean arpeggios and melodies. A special mention goes to drummer Ben Stacy, who moved seamlessly from quiet and restrained to all out cymbal and snare destruction without ever missing a beat. Definitely one for the "drummers people need to see live" category.
With a sound to match the all out pretension of their name, Eleventh He Reaches London unleashed their three guitar attack onto an increasingly fired-up crowd. Vocalist Ian Lenton looked on the verge of mental breakdown with every throat-shredding shriek, wandering about the stage pulling at his hair as if each lyric was bringing him closer to mental breakdown. The group clearly know their epic, multi-layered songs from front to back, putting on a tight and streamlined set that could have benefited from a slightly livelier, animated performance. Nonetheless, the punters remained well and truly satisfied as they waited for Russian Circles to take the stage.
Sporting a sound far bigger than conventional wisdom would say a trio can muster, the Chicago-based post rockers came on stage without a single word of greeting, letting their instruments do the talking. Bassist Brian Cook suffered some technical difficulties during the first tune, but some quick thinking on the part of the sound guys meant that the show went on without too much of a delay, and when the low end finally got rumbling again, it was greeted with rapturous cheers.
Guitar player Mike Sullivan played his pedalboard like a second instrument, with washy, reverb heavy guitar lines looped and layered to create the illusion that there were more people on stage than just these three incredibly talented musicians. The demands of the music meant that there was very little by way of showboating or on-stage acrobatics, but such is the quality of the music and the flawless precision of their execution that it wasn't even necessary. Once again, the man with the sticks stole the show, with drummer Dave Turncrantz a whirling dervish of activity.
With top notch local support (opening act excluded, of course), Russian Circles demonstrated that, be it home grown or international, Perth is the only place in Australia worth being for alternative and underground music. The lads are sure to receive a very warm welcome should they come back any time soon.
Local opening act Drowning Horse set the bar for self indulgence at a new level of height (or is it depth?) with their two song drone set. My hat goes off to their lead singer though, the man has the easiest job in music. I counted about two minutes of vocals in a fifty minute set, the remainder of the set spent swaying in time to the two power-chord fuzzed out drone that lacked melody, dynamics or even a remotely listenable volume level. Drowning Horse are the fuzztone equivalent of the man who loves the sound of his own voice a little too much.
Experimental four piece Tangled Thoughts of Leaving saved what Drowning Horse had nearly killed (almost went with "drowned" there... but I'm far too talented for that) with their unique brand of piano-led instrumental progressive rock. Keyboardist Aaron Pollard proved that you can rock behind the keys with his lively performance, with a few heart-in-mouth moments where I was afraid he was going to smash his ever-banging head into his synth, and all the while tinkling out flawlessly clean arpeggios and melodies. A special mention goes to drummer Ben Stacy, who moved seamlessly from quiet and restrained to all out cymbal and snare destruction without ever missing a beat. Definitely one for the "drummers people need to see live" category.
With a sound to match the all out pretension of their name, Eleventh He Reaches London unleashed their three guitar attack onto an increasingly fired-up crowd. Vocalist Ian Lenton looked on the verge of mental breakdown with every throat-shredding shriek, wandering about the stage pulling at his hair as if each lyric was bringing him closer to mental breakdown. The group clearly know their epic, multi-layered songs from front to back, putting on a tight and streamlined set that could have benefited from a slightly livelier, animated performance. Nonetheless, the punters remained well and truly satisfied as they waited for Russian Circles to take the stage.
Sporting a sound far bigger than conventional wisdom would say a trio can muster, the Chicago-based post rockers came on stage without a single word of greeting, letting their instruments do the talking. Bassist Brian Cook suffered some technical difficulties during the first tune, but some quick thinking on the part of the sound guys meant that the show went on without too much of a delay, and when the low end finally got rumbling again, it was greeted with rapturous cheers.
Guitar player Mike Sullivan played his pedalboard like a second instrument, with washy, reverb heavy guitar lines looped and layered to create the illusion that there were more people on stage than just these three incredibly talented musicians. The demands of the music meant that there was very little by way of showboating or on-stage acrobatics, but such is the quality of the music and the flawless precision of their execution that it wasn't even necessary. Once again, the man with the sticks stole the show, with drummer Dave Turncrantz a whirling dervish of activity.
With top notch local support (opening act excluded, of course), Russian Circles demonstrated that, be it home grown or international, Perth is the only place in Australia worth being for alternative and underground music. The lads are sure to receive a very warm welcome should they come back any time soon.
Wednesday, September 14, 2011
Tomorrow Is My Fucking Birthday!
But I'm so fucking fantastic that I'm gonna give all you guys a present. The present is me telling you all why I'm the best fucking human being ever to have lived. Aren't you all so very lucky?
1) I'm really fucking sexy. I'm not kidding, if you see me, you'll want to fuck me. You'll want to have sex with me, but my iridescent beauty is such that you'll feel like an ugly piece of shit just by being near me, and you'll lose any confidence to make a move. Luckily, I'm also charming as all hell, so if I decide that you are gorgeous enough to be in my proximity, I'll charm the underpants off you. Not in a metaphorical sense, I'll say something so witty that your underwear will evaporate, and the cool caress of the breeze on your privates will make you want to have sex with me even more. I'm that good looking.
2) I'm the smartest human being on the planet. I edited "A Brief History of Time," "The God Delusion" and "Das Capital", because every single author and academic on the face of the earth is in awe of my fiery, burning intellect, and if their observations didn't pass mustard with me, I'd think sharp thoughts at them, but I'm so fucking intelligent that my thoughts would manifest as the purest distillation of the quality of sharpness, unseen in nature, and pierce through their very being. I have to drink a couple six packs of quality imported beer every morning just so I can be on the same intellectual level as the other people I meet, otherwise I come off as way too smart and alienate everyone.
3) My musical taste is better than yours. It doesn't matter what music you like, I know a band that does it better. It doesn't matter how metal you are, I'm more brutal. It doesn't matter how indie you are, I'm more pretentious and artsy. It doesn't matter how country you are, because any degree of country is wildly gay and probably implies a deep seated desire for a loving relationship with a much larger man than you.
4) I look dashing in a suit.
5) I can lift a car over my head.
6) I write a blog that has been rolling in critical acclaim since the day I started writing it. I have been receiving advertising requests pretty much 24/7, but I turn them all down because I don't need money, as I get everything I need for free due to my handsomeness, charm and intelligence.
7) I am in complete and total self denial.
1) I'm really fucking sexy. I'm not kidding, if you see me, you'll want to fuck me. You'll want to have sex with me, but my iridescent beauty is such that you'll feel like an ugly piece of shit just by being near me, and you'll lose any confidence to make a move. Luckily, I'm also charming as all hell, so if I decide that you are gorgeous enough to be in my proximity, I'll charm the underpants off you. Not in a metaphorical sense, I'll say something so witty that your underwear will evaporate, and the cool caress of the breeze on your privates will make you want to have sex with me even more. I'm that good looking.
2) I'm the smartest human being on the planet. I edited "A Brief History of Time," "The God Delusion" and "Das Capital", because every single author and academic on the face of the earth is in awe of my fiery, burning intellect, and if their observations didn't pass mustard with me, I'd think sharp thoughts at them, but I'm so fucking intelligent that my thoughts would manifest as the purest distillation of the quality of sharpness, unseen in nature, and pierce through their very being. I have to drink a couple six packs of quality imported beer every morning just so I can be on the same intellectual level as the other people I meet, otherwise I come off as way too smart and alienate everyone.
3) My musical taste is better than yours. It doesn't matter what music you like, I know a band that does it better. It doesn't matter how metal you are, I'm more brutal. It doesn't matter how indie you are, I'm more pretentious and artsy. It doesn't matter how country you are, because any degree of country is wildly gay and probably implies a deep seated desire for a loving relationship with a much larger man than you.
4) I look dashing in a suit.
5) I can lift a car over my head.
6) I write a blog that has been rolling in critical acclaim since the day I started writing it. I have been receiving advertising requests pretty much 24/7, but I turn them all down because I don't need money, as I get everything I need for free due to my handsomeness, charm and intelligence.
7) I am in complete and total self denial.
Tuesday, September 13, 2011
What I Should Do Is Stab You In The Neck And See Where You Go First
Sorry for the late post, I've been a bit all over the place lately. This may be a consistent theme for some time, life is just crammed full of stuff right now. Uni, work, the constant struggle just to get out of bed... yep, it's a cavalcade of wonder.
So, I wanted to write this one like a wondrous tale of adventure, similar to the way Allie Brosh writes in the delightful Hyperbole And A Half, but she's all full of joy and I'm full of bitter hatred for all mankind, so that didn't work out. So, here's a rant about why doctors rule.
Doctors, man. They're smarter than you. They're smarter than you because they went through some ridiculous amount of schooling, filled their heads with incredible amounts of vital lifesaving knowledge and they do not get paid enough. They dedicated the best part of their youth to learning the skills necessary to stop you from dying if you drink too much, or fall off your bike or do something else stupid that is your own damn fault but as a society we don't like the idea of idiots killing themselves off so you get treatment anyway. Which is fine, you shouldn't die if you do something stupid, but don't give doctors shit.
You always hear the same old screeds from people, it's fucking retarded. "Doctors never know what's going on, they never get it right." Yeah, OK, I know some people that have had some pretty awful experiences as a result of doctors making a mistake, but luckily, another doctor came along and didn't make a mistake, and so they're still alive. Can you really begrudge them for making a few mistakes? Their job is saving lives, all the time, forever. You don't know the stress they have, it's huge. Not only that, do you count all the times doctors get it right? I would imagine the amount of mistakes doctors make over the amount of times they get it right would be a pretty fucking tiny number, you only hear about the mistakes because people want their 15 minutes of fame and malpractice money. I make an exception for deaths and when quality of life is adversely affected as a result of negligence here, but that shouldn't tar all doctors with the same brush.
Then there's the whole "doctors talk down to you" complaint. What do you expect? You've come in for a sore throat, what's he gonna say? If it's winter, he's probably heard that shit like 20 times today. He tells you to go home, drink some Lemsip or something. Then you bitch coz you wanted, I dunno, Xanax and methadone for your uncontrollable discomfort... just do what they say for fuck's sake. Why do you think you're smarter than them? What on earth gave you that impression? Would you bitch to an engineer about his bridge building skills? Of course you fucking wouldn't, you suck at maths, but suddenly you're a medical super-genius because it's not just a sore foot, it's inoperable foot cancer and fuck Mr. Medical Degree if he says otherwise! No wonder my blood pressure is high all the fucking time, having to listen to people telling me why their expert diagnosis is somehow superior to their GP's.
New age hippies, please shut up about how modern medicine has failed. It totally fucking hasn't. The native whereverthefuckyou'refrom-ians didn't have a cure for cancer, you're fucking stupid. You know how we know? Because of SCIENCE. If they did, we'd be taking whatever weed has this magical property, isolating the active ingredient, sticking in in a pill with a picture of leukemia being punched in the nuts on it and shipping that shit out as fast as we could produce and charge people for it. Haven't had such luck yet, but hey, this particular mixture of grasses and ox sperm might do it... oh wait, no it won't. Moron. I know I covered this in the homeopathy rant, but open-minded is not the same as "buying whatever bullshit that spiritual weirdo du-jour is selling." And on that topic, you notice how new age hippie medicine men, crystal energy exponents, psychics and basically every psuedo-scientific nutjob with a unique "insight" into the workings of the universe charge for their services? Oh man, modern medicine is totally profit driven, it disrespects mother earth, but you can have this yellow piece of silicon dioxide that prevents you from feeling vexation for the low, low price of $50.00. A cursory googling or a rudimentary understanding of geology should tell you that most of these so-called magic stones have exactly the same chemical structure save a slight impurity giving them their colour, and yet they can apparently do all these wildly different things that have little to no explanation attached to them. Apparently I'm an earth sign, which means I'm supposed to be level headed and reasonable... guess what, you frauds? I'm going to cut your legs off. Maybe I'm a fire sign.
So, I wanted to write this one like a wondrous tale of adventure, similar to the way Allie Brosh writes in the delightful Hyperbole And A Half, but she's all full of joy and I'm full of bitter hatred for all mankind, so that didn't work out. So, here's a rant about why doctors rule.
Doctors, man. They're smarter than you. They're smarter than you because they went through some ridiculous amount of schooling, filled their heads with incredible amounts of vital lifesaving knowledge and they do not get paid enough. They dedicated the best part of their youth to learning the skills necessary to stop you from dying if you drink too much, or fall off your bike or do something else stupid that is your own damn fault but as a society we don't like the idea of idiots killing themselves off so you get treatment anyway. Which is fine, you shouldn't die if you do something stupid, but don't give doctors shit.
You always hear the same old screeds from people, it's fucking retarded. "Doctors never know what's going on, they never get it right." Yeah, OK, I know some people that have had some pretty awful experiences as a result of doctors making a mistake, but luckily, another doctor came along and didn't make a mistake, and so they're still alive. Can you really begrudge them for making a few mistakes? Their job is saving lives, all the time, forever. You don't know the stress they have, it's huge. Not only that, do you count all the times doctors get it right? I would imagine the amount of mistakes doctors make over the amount of times they get it right would be a pretty fucking tiny number, you only hear about the mistakes because people want their 15 minutes of fame and malpractice money. I make an exception for deaths and when quality of life is adversely affected as a result of negligence here, but that shouldn't tar all doctors with the same brush.
Then there's the whole "doctors talk down to you" complaint. What do you expect? You've come in for a sore throat, what's he gonna say? If it's winter, he's probably heard that shit like 20 times today. He tells you to go home, drink some Lemsip or something. Then you bitch coz you wanted, I dunno, Xanax and methadone for your uncontrollable discomfort... just do what they say for fuck's sake. Why do you think you're smarter than them? What on earth gave you that impression? Would you bitch to an engineer about his bridge building skills? Of course you fucking wouldn't, you suck at maths, but suddenly you're a medical super-genius because it's not just a sore foot, it's inoperable foot cancer and fuck Mr. Medical Degree if he says otherwise! No wonder my blood pressure is high all the fucking time, having to listen to people telling me why their expert diagnosis is somehow superior to their GP's.
New age hippies, please shut up about how modern medicine has failed. It totally fucking hasn't. The native whereverthefuckyou'refrom-ians didn't have a cure for cancer, you're fucking stupid. You know how we know? Because of SCIENCE. If they did, we'd be taking whatever weed has this magical property, isolating the active ingredient, sticking in in a pill with a picture of leukemia being punched in the nuts on it and shipping that shit out as fast as we could produce and charge people for it. Haven't had such luck yet, but hey, this particular mixture of grasses and ox sperm might do it... oh wait, no it won't. Moron. I know I covered this in the homeopathy rant, but open-minded is not the same as "buying whatever bullshit that spiritual weirdo du-jour is selling." And on that topic, you notice how new age hippie medicine men, crystal energy exponents, psychics and basically every psuedo-scientific nutjob with a unique "insight" into the workings of the universe charge for their services? Oh man, modern medicine is totally profit driven, it disrespects mother earth, but you can have this yellow piece of silicon dioxide that prevents you from feeling vexation for the low, low price of $50.00. A cursory googling or a rudimentary understanding of geology should tell you that most of these so-called magic stones have exactly the same chemical structure save a slight impurity giving them their colour, and yet they can apparently do all these wildly different things that have little to no explanation attached to them. Apparently I'm an earth sign, which means I'm supposed to be level headed and reasonable... guess what, you frauds? I'm going to cut your legs off. Maybe I'm a fire sign.
Tuesday, September 6, 2011
Human Beings Are Complicated. I Am Not.
"What do you want?" This is a question that, apparently, causes a lot of people serious confusion. From experience, this causes people to collapse into a ball of existential angst while doubting everything about themselves. Seriously, guys, calm down.
I don't stress about this kind of question because the long-term is made up of lots and lots of little short-terms. I know that seems like an obvious statement, but it seems lost on people who stress about the future. The kind of person who conflates any small issue into something large and uncontrollable. Here is a particularly personal example.
"I don't know what I want to do in life." This is a big thing to say. It implies such a void of meaning. My current theory on this is that if you break it into smaller questions, you can arrive at a solution. For example, here is how I left the useful and lucrative degree of mining engineering to become the most pretentious hobo in the alley with my communications degree;
a) I hate engineering. I'm gonna stop attending classes.
b) Shit, I failed everything and spent all my savings on liquor. Best I stay marginally employed for 6 months and spiral into shiftless depression.
c) It's impossible for me to find proper employment without a degree, but I won't make the engineering mistake twice. I'll do a degree in something I enjoy.
d) What do I enjoy? Well, it's writing and playing music, writing my opinion, writing shorter pieces in general and being the centre of attention.
e) I don't want to get a music degree, I'd much prefer just doing my own thing. There is no "being an attention grabbing wanker" degree, so I guess that leaves writing.
f) Journalism is punchy, short form writing, it's a job at the end of the degree, it opens a lot of doors for different styles of writing... sold.
And that's how I went from a useless engineering student to a pretty fuckin' awesome journalism student. If you don't tell the middle bits, it sounds like a huge arbitrary leap. In reality, it was a series of logical decisions based on my station in life at the time.
I tend to take this piecewise view on basically everything in life, and for the most part, it kinda works. I mean, reality is complicated enough, right? Why make it worse? It does make human relationships strange for me, because I view them as problems to solve... not to say I lack empathy, I guess I'm just a people-pleaser. But that's my advice; life is made up of a lot of short term events, so attack them one by one and take it a day at a time. And drink lots so you can't remember if you messed up, that's important too.
I don't stress about this kind of question because the long-term is made up of lots and lots of little short-terms. I know that seems like an obvious statement, but it seems lost on people who stress about the future. The kind of person who conflates any small issue into something large and uncontrollable. Here is a particularly personal example.
"I don't know what I want to do in life." This is a big thing to say. It implies such a void of meaning. My current theory on this is that if you break it into smaller questions, you can arrive at a solution. For example, here is how I left the useful and lucrative degree of mining engineering to become the most pretentious hobo in the alley with my communications degree;
a) I hate engineering. I'm gonna stop attending classes.
b) Shit, I failed everything and spent all my savings on liquor. Best I stay marginally employed for 6 months and spiral into shiftless depression.
c) It's impossible for me to find proper employment without a degree, but I won't make the engineering mistake twice. I'll do a degree in something I enjoy.
d) What do I enjoy? Well, it's writing and playing music, writing my opinion, writing shorter pieces in general and being the centre of attention.
e) I don't want to get a music degree, I'd much prefer just doing my own thing. There is no "being an attention grabbing wanker" degree, so I guess that leaves writing.
f) Journalism is punchy, short form writing, it's a job at the end of the degree, it opens a lot of doors for different styles of writing... sold.
And that's how I went from a useless engineering student to a pretty fuckin' awesome journalism student. If you don't tell the middle bits, it sounds like a huge arbitrary leap. In reality, it was a series of logical decisions based on my station in life at the time.
I tend to take this piecewise view on basically everything in life, and for the most part, it kinda works. I mean, reality is complicated enough, right? Why make it worse? It does make human relationships strange for me, because I view them as problems to solve... not to say I lack empathy, I guess I'm just a people-pleaser. But that's my advice; life is made up of a lot of short term events, so attack them one by one and take it a day at a time. And drink lots so you can't remember if you messed up, that's important too.
Sunday, September 4, 2011
Stop Failing Semantics!
Far be it from me to turn down Schadenfreude pie, what with it's flaky crust and delicious filling, but I've had my fill. I've gorged on feeling superior, and now it's just getting sad. I guess it's high time I clarified it so you can all stop being wrong.
Theory does not mean what you think it means. It does not mean the same thing in science as it does in common parlance. The lay-person's use of the word "theory" could probably be replaced with "hypothesis" quite comfortably. A theory is an explanation of a phenomena that is (and this bit is really important) consistent with all scientific observations pertaining to it. You can't have a theory that is wrong, by definition. If it isn't consistent with observations, it's not a theory anymore, it's thrown out and disregarded. Therefore, you're complaint that x is just a theory and as such may not be true is... well, just plain silly. Yeah, sure, we might later find the theory is inaccurate, but when you say "oh, I don't subscribe to that particular scientific theory," what you are really saying is "I am not swayed by every existing scientific observation on the subject pointing to this conclusion, so I am going to draw my own, men and women of science be damned!" Which makes you a dullard. A pretentious, self-centred dullard at that. So, well done there.
I can kind of understand why people reject the theory of evolution, it might just fly in the face of your holy gospel. I'm OK with this, you have a lot to mentally sort out. You're still wrong, but it's kinda forgivable. Climate skeptics on the other hand... just what are you rebelling against? I understand, a lot of the data is kinda predictive and leaves some wiggle room for interpretation, but 100% of the scientific community (save that one guy who was published until his ideas got discredited... so it's still 100%. Never mind, disregard) is kinda agreed on this one. And as harsh as it is... you aren't smarter than them. You don't have some secret, hidden insight. You aren't the final arbiter of truth. You're a silly crank who has no idea what they're on about but feels smugly superior because you're a maverick skeptic, the last bastion for reason in an insane world... just kidding, you're a dumb fuck. Stop licking windows and get off your fucking high horse.
Theory does not mean what you think it means. It does not mean the same thing in science as it does in common parlance. The lay-person's use of the word "theory" could probably be replaced with "hypothesis" quite comfortably. A theory is an explanation of a phenomena that is (and this bit is really important) consistent with all scientific observations pertaining to it. You can't have a theory that is wrong, by definition. If it isn't consistent with observations, it's not a theory anymore, it's thrown out and disregarded. Therefore, you're complaint that x is just a theory and as such may not be true is... well, just plain silly. Yeah, sure, we might later find the theory is inaccurate, but when you say "oh, I don't subscribe to that particular scientific theory," what you are really saying is "I am not swayed by every existing scientific observation on the subject pointing to this conclusion, so I am going to draw my own, men and women of science be damned!" Which makes you a dullard. A pretentious, self-centred dullard at that. So, well done there.
I can kind of understand why people reject the theory of evolution, it might just fly in the face of your holy gospel. I'm OK with this, you have a lot to mentally sort out. You're still wrong, but it's kinda forgivable. Climate skeptics on the other hand... just what are you rebelling against? I understand, a lot of the data is kinda predictive and leaves some wiggle room for interpretation, but 100% of the scientific community (save that one guy who was published until his ideas got discredited... so it's still 100%. Never mind, disregard) is kinda agreed on this one. And as harsh as it is... you aren't smarter than them. You don't have some secret, hidden insight. You aren't the final arbiter of truth. You're a silly crank who has no idea what they're on about but feels smugly superior because you're a maverick skeptic, the last bastion for reason in an insane world... just kidding, you're a dumb fuck. Stop licking windows and get off your fucking high horse.
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