Graduation Approaches

Just attended my last class at Penn State, ever.  Just bought my graduation robe, too.  I got the money from my office; they threw me a going-away shindig and they all signed a Christmas card and pooled money together to put it in.  I felt really bad considering I came in late after Carlisle had a petit mal seizure.  That was awfully nice of them.

Anyway, now it's just a matter of studying.  I'm most worried about my plant physiology class (Biol. 441, as Penn State has cheekily named it).  I need the book to study but I have to sell the book quickly or the student bookstore won't take it since they have a limit on buy-backs.

Today's my last day in the office; tomorrow is my last day at the clinic; Saturday night is my last shift at UniMart.  (Thank God.)  I'll probably spend the next two overnights at UniMart studying and writing up a study guide, and sell my book Saturday.

I think my overall feelings on all this can be summarised as follows:

But this doesn't entirely capture my fear and dread of starting over again, of everything being all new and therefore unknown, of the creeping anxiety and paranoia that tends to be inherent to moves of this magnitude.

Next week I'm going to Centralia, PA to see the sights.  Sort of an early graduation present to myself, I guess.

As Promised

Well, blog, I promised you a fun post, didn't I?  Let it never be said that I don't deliver.  But be warned, my next post will be extra melancholy to make up for this.  And now...

Songs You've Heard and Danced To Recently (That Are Grossly Offensive)

(Originally Written on November 19, 2011)

 

1. Song: “Sexy Bitch” by David Guetta ft. Akon
   

Lyrics: 
 
“She’s nothing like a girl you’ve ever seen before / Nothing you can compare to your neighborhood whore / I’m trying to find the words to describe this girl without being disrespectful… / Damn Girl! / Damn, you’s a sexy bitch, sexy bitch! / Damn, you’s a sexy bitch!”

Problem: 
 
Wait. You want to not be disrespectful? So you took the high road and, instead of comparing her to a whore, you settled for “bitch?” The only way that’s not disrespectful is if you were previously going to call her something worse, like “cunt,” and abruptly realised there were kids present and you had to tone it down a notch.

And don’t try to tell me that it’s a compliment because you prefaced it with “sexy.” An insult laced with a compliment (“You sure are good at tennis for such a fat doughy fuck!”) is still an insult.

Possible Solution:

Pretend this is a subtle love song about a rapper suffering from Tourette’s who is struggling to win the girl of his dreams.

2. Song: “Whatcha Say” by Jason Derula
   

Lyrics: 
 
“Tell me tell me what to say I / I don´t want you to leave me / Though you caught me cheating… / Cause when the roof caved in and the truth came out / I just didn’t know what to do / But when I become a star we´ll be living so large / I´ll do anything for you.”

Problem: 
 
Basically this is a song about an unfaithful guy who wants his gullible girlfriend to forgive him. The thing is, it’s not like he was having an affair, felt guilty, ended it, and is coming clean and asking for forgiveness. No, the song implicitly states that he was in the process of cheating on her and she caught him. And now, suddenly, he’s sorry. Am I supposed to believe he was going to end it? Let’s face it, the guy isn’t sad he had an affair. He’s sad he got caught. If he hadn’t been, it likely would have continued. The poor girl is being totally duped. And by the way, you know the part about how he’d do anything for his girlfriend? Well, has he tried not cheating on her? Bitches love not being cheated on.

Possible Solution:

This is actually a song about an unscrupulous roofer, right? He’s trying to convince a dissatisfied customer whose roof just collapsed that he’s truly sorry for cutting corners and using inferior building materials and he’ll fix it.

3. Song: “I Like It” by Enrique Iglesias
   

Lyrics: 
 
“Girl please excuse me / If I’m coming too strong / But tonight is the night / We can really let go / My girlfriend’s out of town / And I’m all alone / Your boyfriend’s on vacation / And he doesn’t have to know.”

Problem: 
 
This is a blatant song about cheating on one’s significant other. It’s not like they’re in an open relationship and it’s cool. No, the singer is actually proposing they keep the whole thing a secret. Being unfaithful and lying about it is not okay.

Possible Solution:

Okay, get this. The boyfriend is not actually on vacation. He’s madly in love with his girlfriend and wants to marry her, but questions her faithfulness. So he hatches a plan. He knows that his girlfriend’s very favourite singer in the world is Enrique. He hired Enrique to tempt her. If she spurns his advances, then Enrique is going to pop the question on the boyfriend’s behalf and also sing at their wedding. Isn’t that sweet?!

4. Song: “Don’t Trust Me” by 3oh!3
   

Lyrics: 
 
“Hush girl / Shut your lips / Do the Helen Keller / And talk with your hips.”

Problem: 
 
Holy shit, are you forgetting that Helen Keller was a real person, who had major disabilities and strove to overcome them? Also, most history books agree she spoke with her hands, not her hips.

Possible Solution:

The person you’re hitting on at the club is not only blind and deaf, but lacks hands, thereby forcing her to talk with her hips, perhaps by gyrating out Morse code or something.

 ("But for all the little ladies who really got flare / 

Be like a vegetable and dance in yo' chair!")

5. Song: “Alors On Danse” by Stromae ft. Gilbere Forte and Kanye West
   

Lyrics: 
 
“Wave your hands in the sky / if anybody got 5 dollars in your pocket right now / I call this club Titanic / why because it’s going down!”

Problem: 
 
Alright, two problems. First and much more obvious is the fact that the Titanic was one of the worst peacetime maritime disasters in history and over 1,500 people died. Imagine how offended you would be if we changed the word “Titantic” to “Twin Towers.” Yeah. But the second problem is that Kanye, who sings this particular verse, appears to be about to mug everyone in the club. Generally, it’s retarded to go out to a dark, crowded club and advertise the wad of cash you have in your pocket. Yet, he asks everyone with money to identify themselves. That seems sort of weird. If their hands are in the air, indicating they have money, that leaves their pockets open to attack. Beware clubgoers! Kanye’s about to rob you blind, after which you’ll be forced to talk with your hips!

Possible Solution: 
 
There’s no metaphor here. Everyone is on a yacht, having fun, unaware that they’re sinking. Kanye identifies those with money to rob them, knowing that, as was the case with the Titanic, the rich assholes will be the ones to live. After stealing their money to pay his way onto a life boat, only then does he inform them of their grim fate.

 (Pictured: Fun.)

6. Song: “Last Friday Night” by Katy Perry
   

Lyrics: 
 
“We went streaking in the park / Skinny dipping in the dark / Then had a ménage à trois / Last Friday night.”

Problem:

Believe it or not, I’m not going to rag on any of the things you think I’m going to. I could point to the glorification of excessive drinking and fiscal irresponsibility, or the blatant disregard for basic legal and social behaviours. But you know what? It’s a catchy song and I don’t feel like any of the content is damning by itself. Except this line. See, “ménage à trois” is a French term meaning “household of three,” and it usually refers to a man-wife-mistress arrangement. It most often describes a long-term relationship and usually the three partners are living together. I was in a ménage à trois once. It was an eight-month-long relationship filled with eight-inch-long penises, and it was fantastic. (Disclaimer: I was informed after writing this that the penises in question were not actually eight inches. That's right; I was actually told to fix this to reflect the smaller and more accurate penis size of 7.5 inches. This is why engineers don't get laid much.) Anyway, a ménage à trois is obviously not the same as a threesome, anymore than an engagement is the same as a one night stand. And it’s not like Katy Perry was forced into using that term; she kind of took some liberties with rhyming “trois” with “law” later on. “Threesome” is actually easier to rhyme. Watch: “After having coke and rum / we had a freaky sweet threesome / Last Friday night.” Or, she could avoid labeling altogether and just describe it for us: “After everyone was nude / I fucked a couple dudes / Last Friday night!” See? Writes itself!

Possible Solution:

A one-night ménage à trois is totally possible assuming time isn’t linear. So I’m forced to the conclusion that Katy Perry has a time machine and that the point of this song has to do with the butterfly effect and her trying to fix the havoc she accidentally wrought by going back and tampering with the past. Also, one of the partners in her ménage à trois is probably a dinosaur.

(Rated XXX.) 

7. Song: “Don’t Want to Go Home” by Jason Derula
   

Lyrics: 
 
“ A-yo me say day-oh / Daylight come and we don’t wanna go home / Yeah so we losing control /Turn the lights low cause we about to get blown / Let the club shut down / We won’t go oh oh oh / Burn it down / To the floor oh oh oh.”

Problem: 
 
You might recognise these lyrics as a modified version of “The Banana Boat” song, a Jamaican calypso song best known for its awkward placement in the movie Beetlejuice. That cutesy little song you took and modified to be a club anthem? It’s kind of about slave labour. You see, in Jamaica and South America, it gets very hot during the day, so hot you can’t really work. So the workers (in this case, the dock workers) work 12-14 hour nights unloading bananas for less than a dollar a day, and when the sun rises, they go home, assuming all their bananas are accounted for. Contrasting their shitty manual labour slave-wage jobs with the lifestyle of a bunch of self-absorbed, privileged fucks who willing stay out all night drinking and have the money to do so is downright crass.

Possible Solution: 
 
I thought up a couple good ones, actually.

First of all, perhaps this song is entirely facetious. Jason Derula is the ultimate hipster, who has ironically established himself as sort of a dick, and is now ironically mocking how modern consumeristic society is out of touch with the struggles of developing countries.

Or, secondly, Jason is on the cusp of establishing an entirely new trend of music. Take this genre to the logical extreme and start remixing all songs about oppression. Remember “Sixteen Tons,” by Merle Travis? Let’s take a second to remix that like Derula would: “Go to the bar and what do you get / Another shot drunker and deeper in debt. [drop dubstep]” Or, just imagine a dance/electronica version of “Swing Low, Sweet Chariot.” I don’t want to ruin the premise of the song for you, but “Chariot” is the name of the girl with the Ugg boots.

Lastly, I find some solace in the fact that Derula mentions that they’re burning the club to the floor, and yet still refusing to leave. This “cleanse it with fire” approach ensures no more shitty club anthems can be recorded by Derula. And that, at least, is something all of us can be thankful for.

African Sleeping Sickness?

I think I might have African Sleeping Sickness.  Yesterday I slept 16 hours and missed all of my classes, plus work.  Today I slept 14 hours and was late for work.  Fortunately I had already called in over the weekend because I sprained my back, so it wasn't a big deal, but missing class is fairly unacceptable, especially in the week before finals, when they're reviewing everything that'll be on the cumulative exams.

(This is me at every review session, ever.)

I think this is either some sort of horrific degenerative disease (I have my fingers crossed!) or it's just a really hardcore case of senioritis.  My senior doesn't look very inflamed, but you never know.  I feel like everything's in order and I don't have much to get up for; I'm just telling time flow around me like a stream and waiting for the future, when I go to California.  I'm trying not to be too hopeful.  This isn't going to make everything in my life magically better.  Actually everything will be about the same except I'll have a support network (that is, Jack and Andy).  And maybe a little more money since I'll have my degree and be able to get a real job, as opposed to my working-nights-at-UniMart or sitting-at-my-desk-pretending-to-look-busy type of job.  Those are the worst.  I need a job where I feel like I'm accomplishing something that's not just occupying space and time and getting money; something where I can say, "Look at the difference I've made!"  And not just referring to the break room microwave catching on fire.

(My God, they have a stock image for everything.)

Okay, I just looked up African Sleeping Sickness and the symptoms are WedMD-style vague ("fever, aches..."), but since I don't think I've been exposed to any tsetse flies recently I probably don't have it.  That's a real bummer, sort of.  I'm all about weird gross parasite infections.  (Biiioloooooogist!)  Oh my God, one of the actual symptoms is called "Winterbottom's sign."  Ha ha!  Wacky disease naming people.  You'd think they'd take this shit seriously.

Anyway, speaking of disease, I should probably go study up on Becker's and Duchenne's for my genetics final before more sleepiness hits me.  Sorry this post was terribly uninformative, Blog.  Next post will be fun and hilarious, I promise.

Dean Koontz Drinking Game

Now that school is wrapping up, the truth is, I'm having a bit of an existential crisis.  Not my usual, ongoing existential crisis, but an entirely new one.  You might even call it depression: I sleep all the time, feel like shit pretty much constantly, and have no motivation to do anything at all.

The thing is, I feel like I won the game.  It's all over now.  I proved everyone wrong and I graduated and got my degree and... now what?  What do I really want to do with my life?  I guess just to be happy, but I don't see any clear like from point A (here) to point B (there).  I feel like I'm in a real fug.  Mostly I just want to sleep away time and hope I wake up in some future utopia, which seems unlikely.  I also really want to drink which is stupid because pouring depressants over depression is like pouring gasoline over fire.  It's a pity, too, since I have a couple of bottles of rum in the liquor cabinet and, oh yes, I just recently finish making a little something that I like to call... The Dean Koontz Drinking Game.

Hey Kids! It's time for...

The Dean Kootnz Drinking Game!

The fastest way to encourage reading while getting so trashed that you can no longer recognise this as a terrible, terrible idea!

Take a shot every time...

• Someone is wearing Rockports.
• Something evil is also genetically engineered.
• The bad guy is German or Russian. Take an extra shot if they're Nazis or part of the KGB.
• The bad guy has a sweet tooth. Take a extra shot for each additional trait he has: parent issues (double if it's a mommy issue), handsomeness or charm, a ridiculously expensive wardrobe, OCD levels of neatness, extreme narcissism.
• An Asian person is described as either a serene Buddha or a concentrated, determined karate master. Take an extra shot if they actually know kung fu or another form of martial arts. Take an extra shot for every time the word “Zen” is used.
• Someone's close family member has autism or Down's syndrome. Take an extra shot if they have an extraordinary ability like teleportation or are psychic.
• The dog is a golden retriever. Extra shot for every time a dog gets called “Fur-Face.”
• Someone has a Chief's Special handgun.
• Evil scientists.
• The person with the gun “recognises the need for guns in a troubled world” even though they're basically a level-headed pacifist. Take an extra shot if they've been to a shooting range.
• Anytime Koontz goes on for a paragraph or more about how the world is troubled and it seems like there's no moral fiber left in society anymore, et cetera et cetera. Take an extra shot if he tries to awkwardly disguise his rambling as the character's rambling.
• Indian laurels or bougainvillea.
• When the protagonists are a man-woman team, and the man is calm, gentle, and level-headed and the woman is a total spitfire.
• Anytime the protagonist's backstory includes someone being murdered. Take an extra shot if the person murdered was one of their parents.
• Someone who needs to steal a car conveniently finds one unlocked with the keys in the ignition or tucked in the sun visor.
• “The Book of Counted Sorrows” is quoted. Take an extra shot if it doesn't end up having any relevance whatsoever to the section it's introducing.
• The person who steals the car switches its license plates with the plates of another car.
• A shot for every time anyone ends up in a church. Extra shots for every time someone has a conversation with a priest or other religious authority figure.
• Koontz makes a point that the good guy has never had a premonition and doesn't believe in them, but immediately after having a foreboding sense of doom, goes with his gut and abandons all reason.
• The child is a genius, or at least an eccentric sort of savant. Take an extra shot if they also have supernatural abilities or can see/sense dead people/ghosts.
• It's set in Southern California. Take an extra shot if Arizona gets mentioned. Take two if any of the main characters visit Arizona.
• Koontz makes a point of saying that it rarely rains in California, and then sets up a scene in a total deluge. Take an extra shot for every subsequent thunderstorm.
• The character's BMI is less than 21; if it's a woman, less than 20.
• A crack is made about how the motel the characters are staying at has clashing orange and blue wallpaper/carpet/sheets/lampshades.
• They make spaghetti. Double shot if someone seems to be overdoing the salad preparation.
• Someone wears a Hawaiian shirt.
• They order Chinese take-out.
• The male character was a cop/detective but now he's retired.
• Someone has an “ethnic” name that's such overkill it borders on offensive. (Such as Abraham Malachi Rosenstein.) Take extra shots if the person with the “ethnic” name has additional “ethnic” clothing or jewelry because they're so “ethinc” (such as yarmulkes, sombreros, et cetera). Take triple shots if one of the MAIN characters has a pun-based name like Drake Everyman or Jim Ironheart or Montgomery KillYourFace.
• There's a chase scene in a snow storms. Double shots if it's anywhere in a vicinity of Lake Tahoe.
• You know what? Shot for every visit to Lake Tahoe.
• Sodium vapour lights.
• A child speaks awkwardly, indicating that Dean Koontz has never heard a child speak and doesn't know what the hell kids sound like. Bonus shot if he attempts to write from the child's POV and fails abysmally.
• And, last but not least... finish the bottle anytime the word “literally” is used completely, unforgivably incorrectly.

Blast from the Past: YOU GET NOTHING

Hey, Blog.  I got your analytics up and running so now I can track page views.  Yesterday we had a  visitor!  Look's like the water is really boiling now.  We'll probably get an endorsement deal soon.  The pressure's definitely on to deliver, in any case.  Of course, I worked a night shift last night, so I'm pretty wiped out.  Here's an old retro post I never published; I have a few of these lying around, so expect to see them over the next week:


Last night I was thinking of how terribly unfair life is, because when you’re depressed, that’s a topic worth mulling over.

Specifically, I was thinking that one of the most unfair aspects of life is that we’re taught that life is fair, and then have to find out later that it’s not.  For some reason, we live in a society that happily and insincerely fills the brains of our little ones and then, laughing, rips the rug out from under their feet.

When I was contemplating this last night, I thought of the example of “Charlie and the Chocolate Factory,” which is a warm-hearted tale of a poor little boy who gets his own candy factory from a probable pedophile, while all of his wretched peers get their ironic come-uppances: the glutton gets caught in a chocolate tube and nearly dies, a gum-chewer gets turned into a blueberry person, a TV-obsessed kid gets shrinked, and a spoiled brat gets thrown down a garbage chute.  Okay, they’re not exactly perfect analogies, but the way their demises all come about are supposed to be ironic.

But then I realised something: Charlie Bucket was never actually tempted.

In every child’s case, they were tempted with the single most important aspect of their existence.  For example, the gum-chewer was presented with some gum, and the TV-obsessed kid was presented with a TV.  What about Charlie?  He wasn’t specifically tempted with anything.

Now, you might argue that Charlie was free from such obsessions, and that the reason he won the contest was that he was the best choice, the most selfless child.  But that doesn’t mean he couldn’t have been equally tempted.  We know, for example, that his family was very, very poor and that he had grandparents who were deathly ill and immobilised.  Why didn’t Willy Wonka take the kids to see the vault where all the money is kept, or perhaps a gumdrop-powered wheelchair?  It seems to me that Wonka tipped his hand a little and Charlie won because he had the unfair advantage of never actually having been tempted in a way comparable to the trials faced by the others.

In this way, I supposed, “Willy Wonka and the Chocolate Factory” is a great story because it reinforces the ideas that:

1) Anything is possible.

2) Life’s not fair, fuck you.

3) Slave labour is okay as long as they look different from you.

4) For real, fuck the Oompa-Loompas, life’s not fair.