If only my parents had bought me this when I was little!
Okay so judging by the computer clock I have 12.5 minutes to finish this post and get it up, which may give you a hint why most of my posts seem rather … thin … lately. I have to jam them all up before the web cafe closes or walk several miles in the rain to get to the nearest 24 hour cafe and then pay another $2 for lousy coffee or $5 in the case of the nearest cafe, which has a two-drink minimum and NO I AM NOT EVEN JOKING so is it any wonder I’m having an emo breakdown? It’s only Monday by a few minutes and I’m already three days behind in posts.
So let me tell you about the time I had an emo meltdown on my one and only celebrity follower. Well, I have some celebrity journalists following me, thank god, because validation from writers better than one’s self is always welcome, but I have only one Actual Movie Star Follower, and that’s John Cusack. I’d tell you about him, but I don’t have time and you DO have google, so knock yourselves out.
It happened after I’d stayed up too long liveblogging Japan (for which I did get on the front page of Google for “Japanese Earthquake” for a time at least; I do think I did a good job, but GOD who can blog that for long without going ever so slightly insane, eh? I ask yez) two nights in a row and gotten an email from a friend in Hawaii mentioning the two quakes he’d had while he was replying to my email of a few minutes ago. Oh, swell.
Then I heard about the reactors.
That’s about when I DM’d my one and only Genuine Celebrity Follower, a man I know through conversations of about 420 characters total. And nothing is to be deduced from that purely coincidental number.
And what did I say to this near-stranger? “Do you ever have one of those days when you think the end of the world is actually here already?”
So, yeah, I’m apparently That Fan. Mother would be so proud.
On that note, here are your emo links for an early Monday morning. I should drink more, at least I’m a happy drunk.
Well, you can see by the comments on the post below that pointless internet drama is the catalyst for ever-more-random explosions of other pointless internet drama. There’s some sort of magnetic effect going on, in which the drama calls out to drama queens, and so you have a post about a fanblog at WordPress.com being taken down generating a rather heated (or icy, depending on your point of view) and completely unrelated 24 comments about the infallible superiority of the Echo commenting system, my unspeakable rudeness at DARING to insult the commenting system, etc etc.
So I wonder what kind of comments this will generate. It’s a comment thread on Gawker in which the whole thing was discussed again. The Baroness and I have nothing whatsoever in common, but we’ve always gotten along pretty well because we respect one another and don’t believe the world needs to be filled with people who are identical. I mean, how do people who agree on everything even HAVE discussions?
I think Monet died before he really hit his stride artistically.
Yup, he sure did!
End of conversation.
Anyway, here it is for good or ill. By the time I wake up tomorrow, this post will probably have 789 comments about how it’s all my fault NASA cancelled the space shuttle program or something. It’d be typical. Putting it over the jump so this page doesn’t become endless, but all the good stuff is there, INCLUDING THE DEADLY ASSASSIN.
Meerkats. Behind every conspiracy theory of the last two thousand years. Fucking meerkats.
Yes, I’m in a bit of a mood, and my internal editor who whispers “perhaps you could rephrase that in a more positive way, perhaps by deleting the word ‘motherfucker'” is AWOL until I get my strength back, and yes, I’ve been insulting people’s cats left and right (I don’t think they mind, actually, but HELLYEAH the people sure do, even though I’m pretty sure cats can’t read, except Abyssinians), but even so I’m not sure I have enough bitter gall within me (impacted or not) to do justice to the following video.
This is the Christmas song for people who consider Enya “bad*ss.” And spell it that way.
Yes, ladies and gentlemen, this is “The Christmas Shoes“. Apparently there’s also a tv special, and what they put in it to stretch it out to an hour is anyone’s guess, because basically what you’ve got here is dumbed-down O. Henry run through a White, Middle-Class American Who Admires Black People Especially Oprah and That Other One, Oh Yeah, the President, filter. Production values by Vaseline, Inc.
Yes, that sentence parses, by the way.
I suppose, now that I’ve pondered awhile and self-medicated with repeated viewings of Christmas in Hollis, I suppose I can find it in my worldview to picture a meaningful, even beneficent, role for this song: as an emetic, to bring sweet release and relief after a toxically-enthusiastic consumption of holiday treats. To that end, I present the lyrics, downloaded from (where else?) CowboyLyrics.com.
It was almost Christmas time
There I stood in another line
Trying to buy that last gift or two
Not really in the Christmas mood
Standing right in front of me
Was a little boy waiting anxiously
Pacing around like little boys do
And in his hands he held
A pair of shoes
And his clothes were worn and old
He was dirty from head to toe
And when it came his time to pay
I couldn’t believe what I heard him say
Sir I wanna buy these shoes for my Momma please
It’s Christmas Eve and these shoes are just her size
Could you hurry Sir?
Daddy says there’s not much time
You see, she’s been sick for quite a while
And I know these shoes will make her smile
And I want her to look beautiful
If Momma meets Jesus, tonight.
He counted pennies for what seem like years
And cashier says son there’s not enough here
He searched his pockets franticly
And he turned and he looked at me
He said Momma made Christmas good at our house
Though most years she just did without
Tell me Sir
What am I gonna do?
Some how I’ve got to buy her these Christmas shoes
So I layed the money down
I just had to help him out
And I’ll never forget
The look on his face
When he said Momma’s gonna look so great.
Sir I wanna buy these shoes, for my Momma please
It’s Christmas Eve and these shoes are just her size
Could you hurry Sir?
Daddy says there’s not much time
You see, she’s been sick for quite a while
And I know these shoes will make her smile
And I want her to look beautiful,
If Momma meets Jesus tonight.
I knew I caught a glimpse of heavens love as he thanked me and ran out.
I know that God had sent that little boy to remind me
What Christmas is all about
Sir I wanna buy these shoes for my Momma please
It’s Christmas Eve and these shoes are just her size
Could you hurry Sir?
Daddy says there’s not much time
You see she’s been sick for quite a while
And I know these shoes will make her smile
And I want her to look beautiful
If Momma meets Jesus tonight
I want her to look beautiful
If Momma meets Jesus tonight
raincoaster 