Headline of the day:
It’s Not OK To Be Shitty: Guy Fieri, BuzzFeed, And The Tyranny Of Stupid Popular Things
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This is astonishing. Stunning. Staggering. Entirely mind-blowing. This video describing the sex tape drama between gossipy website Gawker and immoral wrestler and tanning product abuser Hulk Hogan will cause you to question the very nature of reality, if not the point of existence itself.
I know what you’re wondering; you have the same question as me. We all want to know the answer.
How does that studly himbo Gawker get his logo to float in front of his shirt like that?
Welcome to Sunday. Sunday is, quite obviously, the most important day of the week.
It is the day the restaurants close.
In an age of over-adequate labour supplies and chefs, sous chefs, and assistant-sub-sous chefs, there can, of course, be only one reason for EVERY FUCKING RESTAURANT I WANT TO GO TO being closed on a Sunday. TWICE IN A ROW.
Everyone on staff has gone off to worship.
For those of you picturing neat rows of Episcopalian pews filled with shiny, freshly-scrubbed food and beverage staffer faces, allow me to shatter your dreams now. Think back to the last time you were at a good restaurant. The bartender, the waitstaff, the chef, the buspersons…did they look familiar from church? Did they even look like the type of person who goes to your church? I think not. I very much think not.
Yet, Sunday closures. Therefore, they must be Cthulhu worshipppers. It’s the only logical conclusion. When everything impossible has been eliminated whatever is left, however improbable, must be the truth, and you KNOW those people don’t show up at your church, now do they? So does it really matter what flavour of damnation they choose, whether it’s Lutheranism or SisterWifeism or Whateverism? No. But restaurant staffers, if they’re clever, know exactly how to play the angles. They know how to pick a winner and glom on to him like there’s no tomorrow, which is why Gordon Ramsay’s busboy is the same as he was twenty years ago, only with more scars.
Now there’s a religion that pays out for your investment. The stars are going to align almost any day now and when they do, acolytes of the Cult of Cthulhu such as myself and all non-fast-food restaurant staffers are going to be on the top of the world, along with loathesome, towering monstrosities of which you’ve never dreamed in your worst nightmares. If you really, truly doubt that Cthulhuism has infiltrated, influenced, and irrevocably changed mainstream culture, listen up: has there not been a VAST increase in the number of women insisting on being eaten first?
I rest my case.
Now, let us sing, Cthulhian-hipster style.
The Fishy Song
Hey There Cthulhu
Now THIS is an avatar of feminine power we can all support. Sure, she may have taken jobs away from the odd dashing prince or fairy godmother, but now they can find new, rewarding careers as ghost writers for her autobiography, fan club presidents, or personal assistants. Win/win/win!
Besides, it’s not like those off-the-shelf Disney Princesses turned out so goddam well.
Which brings me to a slight rant, not for the first and surely not for the last time.
Have you been to the GA lately? No? Been to any populist movement of any kind recently? Even a City Council meeting? And seen? These girls? (and they’re always girls, you know?) Who really, really want to make the world, like, a better place, and, huh, oh, just want everyone to FEEL oKAY about it, okay? Okay?
“In case you hadn’t realized, it has somehow become uncool to sound like you know what you’re talking about? Or believe strongly in what you’re, like, saying? Invisible question marks and parenthetical ‘you know’s and ‘you know what I’m saying’s have been attaching themselves to the ends of our sentences? Even when those sentences aren’t, like, questions? Declarative sentences, so called because they used to, you know, like, declare things to be true, as opposed to other things that are, like, totally… not?” - Taylor Mali
Yes, our movement is a tentative one. It is conditional. It is not sure it should be out so late on a school night, and it doesn’t want to run into its boss at the GA. “If there ever was a time it would be now,” says Third Eye Blind in their Occupy anthem, and that’s as conditional a statement as was ever shoehorned into a revolutionary theme. Ambivalence is the precondition of all Occupiers, but we needn’t let it paralyze us. Let’s get okay with uncertainty, with backlash.
Kids, girls, poke your heads out of your scarves for a moment, unturtle thyselves, and listen to me:
Hipster guys for whatever reason don’t seem to insist that everyone feel okay about things, so I’m leaving them out of this rant although I’m sure to rant on them sometime or other, if only for their choice of novelty facial hair. It’s the girls (and yes, only some of them but enough that it’s led me to conclude this is a problem with the hipster worldview per se and not just two or three girls who bug me) who really want to change the world, who realize that to do it you need to step up into a position of action and power and who, once there, turtle themselves into their scarves, stare at their pigeon toes and hold up the GA while everybody gets “okay” with things.
This is your chance to change the world, our REAL chance to change the world, and it requires more courage than anything any of us have ever done before. It is okay to fear. There is plenty to fear. But fuck “fierce.” Become fearsome.
Hold your heads high when you facilitate a GA. Shut down the randos; empower the change artists. When you’re stacking, own your power, because the power of the GA flows through you; you are a vessel of democracy at that point. Feel it. Live and breathe it.
And then lay it on an unsuspecting world.
Of COURSE it’s a Powerpoint.
PowerPoint, which can be found on two hundred and fifty million computers around the world, is software you impose on other people. It allows you to arrange text and graphics in a series of pages, which you can project, slide by slide, from a laptop computer onto a screen, or print as a booklet (as Sarah Wyndham did). The usual metaphor for everyday software is the tool, but that doesn’t seem to be right here. PowerPoint is more like a suit of clothes, or a car, or plastic surgery. You take it out with you. You are judged by it—you insist on being judged by it. It is by definition a social instrument, turning middle managers into bullet-point dandies.
I am proud to say that I have stuck firmly to my Never Learning Powerpoint policy and am instead learning Prezi. I think Malcolm Gladwell would be disappointed and Marshall McLuhan would be proud, and that’s enough for me.
Speaking of First World Problems!