I'm plotting against my fellow man in what could be an attack of art and writing to shift the social paradigm to a slightly madder and much more acceptable level.
I've had it with the e-zombies tweeting and Facebook updating their boring mundane little lives into my pop culture peripheral.
If you want your life to be worthy content, then do something content worthy.
Have an adventure.
Have an original, interesting thought for Christssakes!
You are the star of your life story, so go be a star.
There is a conspiracy against you.
I'm the bastard behind it.
I will do things to screw with you for the sheer sake of making the world weird and less boring.
I'll spin utter nonsense into the plausible for expressed purpose of jarring your brain in different directions.
I am a memetic concussion.
You are riding the shockwaves of the mad thoughts that generate in my reptilian brain, filter through the alternate dimension that I created through my will, and ping off everything you see and hear.
The mountain of self importance I possess can crush politicians.
I am the Biochemical Nightmare Revolver.
Dodge my bullets.
I dare you.
I'm just about fed up with the radio. Mike and Bobby are entertaining, but I only get to hear about a half hour of them. The Political Battle Royale with Ham and Cheese has become a bit tiresome on talk radio. That's even with Stephen Colbert holding court in front of Congress.
I need a new album to come out, and I need it to be good. Yes, I know I'm an e-troglodyte and albums are nearly an outmoded thing being replaced by songs cherry-picked online and downloaded into easily lost devices.
I keep going back to that My Chemical Romance video with Grant Morrison in it and hope like hell its an insane concept album of the quality of "Welcome to the Black Parade", but trading in the the exploration of impending death for a mad musical battle in the spirit of SIX STRING SAMURAI. My mind has already filled in the pieces to the story of the Fabulous Killjoys.
I want this album to live up to the story I've created for it.
Screw "hope and change" promised by a pop star who would be king.
Gimme hope for some damn good rock-n-roll. The kind that begs you to find open roads with no speed limits and a car with a fuel tank of gas.
I hope for art.
Nothing like celebrities to make me feel better about myself. It used to be the big names invoked envy among us poor folks who got work bust our butts to set our tables. Now look at them.
Paris Hilton isn't being allowed into countries, deemed as an "undesirable". That's hot!
Lindsey Lohan didn't pass GO! or collect $200. Apparently, she didn't need the 200 smackers or needed to roll doubles.
Debates rage over who is a bigger scumbag: Mel Gibson or Charlie Sheen. The winner? Sheen publicist.
Idolatry is dead.
"Why did you stop drawing?" was the question that got posed to me this week. Might have something to do with 40 hours or labor and topping it off with hours of Karate are getting to me. My hands are sore and occasionally shake a bit depending on what I've been doing. No that shaking bit is not a warning sign of some horrible neurological problem which should prompt you people to comment and tell me to go see someone about it. Its the result of working with power tools for hours at a time. You grind cement off a couple hundred tiles or sand a wood floor that's older than indoor plumbing into an acceptable appearance and your hands would shake too.
But I haven't been drawing, which should be obvious by know as this post makes it sound like I've gone off the deep end. That's what happens when I'm not drawing. I go nuts. So I might have to do a bit of sketching just to keep the boys in the white coats away. Then its back to the salt mines.
Although if this blog takes weird turns you now know what's up. That or I'm screwing with all of you. I'm in one of those moods which makes me want to start Facebook accounts and just torment any poor soul would tries to friend me there with impossible updates.
I'll drive them mad and call it "art". I wonder if that excuse still works on the authorities? "Yes officers I did make those updates. Why no, I never intended to start a riot with them. No, I didn't really run through downtown Norfolk naked and whack random people with lawn furnature."
Fun fact: Facebook can be used to obtain warrants for arrest. E-art is dangerous.
The season premier of SUPERNATURAL was last night. This is the first season without the shows creator at the helm. I love this show, I truly do, but I just wasn't feeling it last night. Everyone played their parts. Parker Lewis joined the cast, and is looking good. Last I saw him, he had put on some weight. There's other new cast members.
The whole things just felt a bit too contrived. I completely bought into Dean in retirement. I was eager to find out how Sam, if it was Sam, returned. I'm OK with not having all my questions answered, but the new questions posed don't make me want to walk through the door to find out what's up. It felt like fan fiction. Eric Kripke left the show because he had told his five season long story. The Winchester Brothers stopped the apocalypse. Not a lot of places to go from there.
While the people who took the reigns are very capable, the premier left a lot to be desired. Foremost, what happened to Adam? He didn't even get mentioned. Ug. I really want this season to be good. It still could be, but its not off to a good start.
Because if Batman played a musical instrument it would be a banjo!
That's it for today. I need to either drink a lot more or a lot less.
I'll let you know when I figure out.