The Noise

The Noise

How long do we spend in the silence? 
Not long.
I wonder what’s in there?
In the gaps between?
If I stay in the silence will I come to an end?
Could I explore there forever?
Is it like space?
Would I float?
I don’t spend enough time there to give the silence more than a cursory glance.
If I don’t look for the silence I never notice it.
It’s blotted out by the noise.

Oh, there’s tons of stuff there in the noise.
The noise has information.
Lots and lots of information.
Market reports, planes crashing, fashion trends, babies born, people dead.
The noise can be hypnotic.
The noise is welcoming.
The noise is a snake charmer. 
Dance to its song!

Follow me, says the noise.
Don’t want to know about world news?
Come over here and listen to your favorite band.
Tired of looking at the bad stuff?
Here’s a picture of something cute.
Not feeling sugary? 
Well over here is some spice for you.
I’ll always keep you entertained. 
I’ll always be with you.
All you have to do is turn me on.
Most of the time you don’t even have to do that.
Just don’t turn me off
And I will keep you distracted.

I love the noise.
It makes me feel full.
It makes me feel useful.
It occupies the wee hours.
It keeps me from unpleasant thoughts.
The noise will always be there for me.
Without the noise I get
Without the noise there is silence.
Without the noise I feel empty.
If I ever stayed in the silence long enough,
I wonder if I might realize,
It was the noise that made me think I was
It made me think I was being
It made me feel like I wasn’t
I just didn’t have time to realize 
It was lying to me.


Don’t Own These or You are a Massive Tool

This post is inspired by the first product you will see on this list. I’m all for creativity and innovation, but there is stuff out there that is stupid to such a colossal scale that I have to wonder just how long humankind has been peeing into it’s own gene pool.

I’m pretty sure when I was a kid that when I wasn’t running around in my underoos with a blanket tied around my neck pretending to be Superman, that I probably wore my sister’s bathrobe backwards out of sheer boredom at some point. I didn’t like it then. Now, as an adult with still a smidge of self-respect left, I’m positive I wouldn’t like it.

Aren’t robes open in the front to allow free movement of the legs? Not only does this design flaw increase this product’s ranking on the dumbassometer, but, unlike a robe, it doesn’t end above the ankles. It flows down past the feet to the floor. Seeing as how I think this thing is probably sold mainly to the chronically cold elderly, isn’t this a lawsuit waiting to happen? I can see hoards of hollow boned elderly shattering hips across our great nation when they get up to grab one of their seventeen cats, and they trip over the hem of this thing. On the other hand, if you’ve ever been hospitalized and just happen to like the feel of an open backed hospital style gown, then this product may be for you and you can wear it with pride…schmuck.

I’m pretty sure if this thing worked anywhere near as well as the ads and videos claim it did, then they wouldn’t have had to give it such a weird name to garner attention. Just like when I originally saw the Bad Frog beer commercials. As soon as I noticed they had to put a frog on the bottle label with it’s middle finger raised, I knew the product would suck. Thankfully I was able to satiate my curiosity when a friend handed me a bottle and I didn’t have to insult my own intelligence by buying any of that swill myself. It couldn’t have tasted any worse if they had brewed it with Lindsay Lohan’s venereal drippings.

In the day and age of free internet pornography that is more plentiful than inbreds in West Virginia, is anybody really so desperate for a view of hypoallergenic polyfoam stuffed breasts that they will buy this? Oh, but that’s not all young sailors! These are Iboobs. Yes, speakers for your Ipod that you can rest your head on while snoozing away the evening hours listening to the dulcet tones of Zamfir, King of the Pan Flute.

Erm, eh…wow. If you can’t manage to walk from your car to the entrance of the multiplex without having to get out of your car in cold weather and put on this inconvenient mockery of a useful product, then you sir are beyond pussywhipped. Either you are too much of a daisy to withstand the cold for the hand-in-hand walk or you are just begging her to take advantage of your incredibly weak personality like the U.S. government took advantage of drunken Indians. One more point, if you make it through your walk in the park and don’t have your ass handed to you by every man that still does have a pair, then you were just lucky. Just because you lived through that crazy game of Russian roullette you played that one night you spent too much time in your darkened dorm room listening to Pink Floyd, doesn’t mean you should play the game again. Sooner or later your gamble is going to come up craps. If I see you wearing these, I will punch at least one of you in the face and it is quite possible I might have to punch the both of you. I’m not violent by nature, but I cannot tolerate the children seeing wussification on such a craptastic scale. It sets a bad example.

I can see someone owning one of these runny nose egg separators if it was made by their weird Uncle Herman out in his shed where he turned his niece’s old easybake oven into a makeshift kiln. The only reason they keep it on the shelf is they are worried that Uncle Herman may react in some sort of violent fashion towards their dog involving a weedwhacker and pungee sticks if he thinks his gift wasn’t appreciated. If you don’t have a weird Uncle Herman and you own one of these, you are now uber-douche material and far, far more comfortable with bodily fluids and functions than even the most jaded doctor of internal medicine has any right to be.

Well Shut My Mouth!

Had an absolute blast last night. Met Kim’s friends and got along with them both better than fine. I don’t know how they got along with me. You’ll have to ask them about that.

That Styx concert I didn’t care to go to, well, we couldn’t get tickets so I wasn’t bummed about that. It did create the dilemma of what the hell were Kim and I going to do while her two friends were in the concert hall which was attached to the casino that we had eaten dinner in. Too bad there is no way to turn stale cigarette smoke into a viable energy source cuz I know where there is plenty of it.

Anyways, ten minutes into the concert an ex-student of mine wandered up to me and asked me if I wanted to buy tickets to the show. So for half price I got to see the show with Kim. Somehow not paying full value for tickets made the idea of going to see a band I didn’t care all that much about seem more palatable. Wifey had a good time and so did I surprisingly. I may not be totally into Styx, but there is something very cool about seeing people who are a master of their craft perform. A very tight set and let me tell you, those boys can still play even if they are one step from a wheelchair. Tommy Shaw, the lead guitarist and co-vocalist was a pleasure to watch as he really seemed to simply enjoy being there. I’ve seen some other 80’s bands in the new millenium and some of them can come off as looking a little pissy that they aren’t still hitting platinum with every thing they do, but these guys seemed to enjoy being there and enjoy each other so it was very good.

After the concert we hooked back up with the friends and commenced to bullshit the night away. It was very cool as I hadn’t been out of the house for anything more exciting than grocery shopping in a couple months and it was a most necessary departure from the last few yawns of weekends.

I just felt I needed to post a follow-up to my last post. Now that I look back at it, I do come off and some kind of massive tool. I guess sometimes good times sneak up on you when you least expect it. I really need to keep more of an open mind.

It’s nice to get caught by surprise sometimes. This was one of those times. Glad I went instead of going to the fights which I hear were fairly boring anyways. There will be other times for Jeff and I to get together. We are severely overdue for some sort of complete explosion of immaturity the type of which only seems to happen when we get together. I just hope we don’t have to wait until summer for it.

Later all.