What's the worst part about watching commercials? No it's not the fact that the show you were just watching and enjoying goes on a momentary vacation. It isn't the fact that there's bunch of useless bullshit being shoved down your throat. It's the goddamn songs that ruin our day to day. And I'm not talking about the lame jingles either, like "SAVED BY ZERO" or "5 DOLLAR FOOT LONGS." Jingles are a part of the fabric of America.
Over the past few years, commercials have been the breeding ground where indie rock songs and classic rock go to die. Commercials have always been the epitome of selling out (either that or having your own action figure molded after your band, Jordan Knight!). Frankly, I'm sick of this. Every time a computer commercial comes on, I'm greeted with a quirky "indie" song with some moderate electronics for the optimum computer/digital experience. And the car commercials... haaa, don't even get me started. The car industry has successfully killed three great Queen songs, every decent song by The Who, and cemented the fact that Kid Rock will forever suck a big dick till the end of time. There's no worse television experience I can think of than watching a pickup truck cutting a sharp turn, in slow motion nonetheless, to a bunch of nu-metal.
Commercials, you suck. You just really suck. You've made millions of people, like my mother, want to download Feist and Imogen Heap songs. And that is just wrong Mom. But the commercials taught you to accept, and buy everything.
(However, I'm very proud of The Thermals who declined a half-million bucks for the use of one of their songs in a Hummer commercial. Also, Tom Waits sued the fucking shit out of some English company for ripping off his song "Innocent When You Dream" in their commercial after he declined. He claims that's how his family will live comfortably for a few generations. Thank you so much Tom. Thank you.)
December 9, 2008
I'm Making my Lists and Editing Them Once
It's that time of year again. Yes, time to start compiling those lists. And I don't mean your letters to Santa, because let's face it, the guy doesn't exist. Sorry, but he doesn't. Neither does the Tooth Fairy, Leprechauns, and a Colorado Rockies World Series ring. There all figments of a child's imagination.
But yours lists don't have to be. I'm convinced we only have months and moon cycles and linear time so when December rolls around, we can exercise our rights to publish our wonderful year round lists of everything in life that was worth checking out. December was created to give you a voice to tell the masses what was relevant in the year while you were alive to absorb it all. You can even make lists about things you didn't do. It's amazing!
I don't know about you, but all year long I make lists, some relevant, some daily and full of junk notes. Those include things I ate or how the weather made me feel. Those go in the garbage, fast!. But it's the year round ones that count. The list gives you the right to feel that you have some place in the human race, and that you were able to categorize such minute details into something important to you. And if one child in China happens to read my Best Albums of 2006 list and buys one of them, then let my life be not in vain.
So this December, compile your lists. Don't let US Weekly and Pitchforkmedia have all the say. Tell random strangers what the hell movies you liked, which people you wanted to kill, and what pets died on you in the year 2008. (a small sampling of the former would be: Burn After Reading, a waitress at The Adelphi Diner, and none).
This season, in between shopping and breaking bread with the family, make sure you make your lists. Because I want to know what the fuck you like to do with your time, or should I say, the Top 20 Things You Like (or Liked) to Do with Your Time in 2008.
But yours lists don't have to be. I'm convinced we only have months and moon cycles and linear time so when December rolls around, we can exercise our rights to publish our wonderful year round lists of everything in life that was worth checking out. December was created to give you a voice to tell the masses what was relevant in the year while you were alive to absorb it all. You can even make lists about things you didn't do. It's amazing!
I don't know about you, but all year long I make lists, some relevant, some daily and full of junk notes. Those include things I ate or how the weather made me feel. Those go in the garbage, fast!. But it's the year round ones that count. The list gives you the right to feel that you have some place in the human race, and that you were able to categorize such minute details into something important to you. And if one child in China happens to read my Best Albums of 2006 list and buys one of them, then let my life be not in vain.
So this December, compile your lists. Don't let US Weekly and Pitchforkmedia have all the say. Tell random strangers what the hell movies you liked, which people you wanted to kill, and what pets died on you in the year 2008. (a small sampling of the former would be: Burn After Reading, a waitress at The Adelphi Diner, and none).
This season, in between shopping and breaking bread with the family, make sure you make your lists. Because I want to know what the fuck you like to do with your time, or should I say, the Top 20 Things You Like (or Liked) to Do with Your Time in 2008.
December 8, 2008
Merry X-mas (The War is Over)
The year: 2003. The day: Saturday. Time: Morning.
I woke up one Saturday morning in 2003. I could hear my family milling about in
the kitchen, roaming in and out of the living room, getting their day underway.
I rolled out of bed with one thing on my mind; Cinnamon Toast Crunch. However, my mind quickly shifted when I saw the note that had been slipped under my bedroom door.
It was clearly my mothers handwriting on a piece of white paper one would
write a shopping list on. On it, in blue ink, were 4 simple words, "THE
WAR IS OVER." The war is over? I thought. HOLY SHIT, THE WAR IS OVER!!!
Immediately, my mind raced with CNN news clips of the troops pulling out of Iraq, thus adverting further US submergence into additional Middle East skirmishes. My ultimate fear of the reinstatement of the draft, ultimately leading to my inevitable drafting, was now eradicated.
I opened my bedroom door, waiting for my parents to tell me our country was not
doomed after all. 'Good morning,' my mom said. "GOOOOD
Mornin'," I whistled back. I took a seat at the kitchen table, poured my
cereal, tapped my feet to the rhythm of Stars and Stripes Forever.
But still, no one was telling me any good news. My dad was watching infomercials, not the 24 hour coverage that would celebrate the end of our involvement in Iraq.
Finally, I said smugly, "So, we're out of Iraq?"
My mom looked at me, clearly confused, "Huh?"
"You know, I saw the note you slipped under my door. THE WAR IS OVER."
I showed her the note. 'Man,that was fast. Stupid George Bush. At least he
got us out of there.'
My mom didn't say anything. "Oh that note." I looked at her,
confused. "Your brother just told me to write that and put it under your
door."
I was as confused as you might feel, reading all of this pointless bullshit. That's just
what the note was; pointless bullshit from my pointless bullshit little
brother. "Why'd he ask you to write that?" I asked, the sinking feeling of a
country in flames crashing into my soul, thus thrusting me back all my panic
attacks of one day having to fight in a war (I like movies about Vietnam).
"I don't know why. He just told me to write that."
To this day, I am mad at my little brother, seven years my junior, for telling
my mom to write me stupid notes that have important connotations related to our
countries well being. I didn't even consider myself patriotic in anyway back then.
I just like exciting news.
I woke up one Saturday morning in 2003. I could hear my family milling about in
the kitchen, roaming in and out of the living room, getting their day underway.
I rolled out of bed with one thing on my mind; Cinnamon Toast Crunch. However, my mind quickly shifted when I saw the note that had been slipped under my bedroom door.
It was clearly my mothers handwriting on a piece of white paper one would
write a shopping list on. On it, in blue ink, were 4 simple words, "THE
WAR IS OVER." The war is over? I thought. HOLY SHIT, THE WAR IS OVER!!!
Immediately, my mind raced with CNN news clips of the troops pulling out of Iraq, thus adverting further US submergence into additional Middle East skirmishes. My ultimate fear of the reinstatement of the draft, ultimately leading to my inevitable drafting, was now eradicated.
I opened my bedroom door, waiting for my parents to tell me our country was not
doomed after all. 'Good morning,' my mom said. "GOOOOD
Mornin'," I whistled back. I took a seat at the kitchen table, poured my
cereal, tapped my feet to the rhythm of Stars and Stripes Forever.
But still, no one was telling me any good news. My dad was watching infomercials, not the 24 hour coverage that would celebrate the end of our involvement in Iraq.
Finally, I said smugly, "So, we're out of Iraq?"
My mom looked at me, clearly confused, "Huh?"
"You know, I saw the note you slipped under my door. THE WAR IS OVER."
I showed her the note. 'Man,that was fast. Stupid George Bush. At least he
got us out of there.'
My mom didn't say anything. "Oh that note." I looked at her,
confused. "Your brother just told me to write that and put it under your
door."
I was as confused as you might feel, reading all of this pointless bullshit. That's just
what the note was; pointless bullshit from my pointless bullshit little
brother. "Why'd he ask you to write that?" I asked, the sinking feeling of a
country in flames crashing into my soul, thus thrusting me back all my panic
attacks of one day having to fight in a war (I like movies about Vietnam).
"I don't know why. He just told me to write that."
To this day, I am mad at my little brother, seven years my junior, for telling
my mom to write me stupid notes that have important connotations related to our
countries well being. I didn't even consider myself patriotic in anyway back then.
I just like exciting news.
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