List Tuesday: Why is the World in Love Again?

Things I Would Like to Do and Even Imagine Myself Doing But Probably Will Not Do On My Last Day Of Work In DC Tomorrow

1. Moo like a cow as we all move like cows off the train and onto the escalator to our untimely demise


2. Meet the Press


3. Sing songs from the Rocky Horror soundtrack out loud on the train


4. Dress like Dr. Frank N. Furter on the train*


5. Spend all day reading the whole internet


6. Hire a barbershop quartet to sing a goodbye song to my office


7. Talk to Charles one more time


8. Do some serious shreddin'


9. Eat some pie


10. Not miss anybody here in DC


11. Write a Goodbye, You Stupid City post on Why.I.Hate.DC (you there Rusty?)

*After telling this joke I always like to clarify that I'm only kidding. I believe tomorrow will result in the average amount of desire to dress up in fishnet stockings etc. If you were to do a "dressing up in fishnet stockings etc desire test" tomorrow, my name would be right in the middle.

Bad Photoetry Thursday: I've Seen Everything Imaginable

The Original!

Warcene Creed courtesy of Get Your War On!

Always Hungry For Something

Well, here we are.
Here we are where we soon shall not be.
We are now officially in our last week living and working in DC. A week from right now (assuming I'm not just waking up from a wicked, last-day-of-work-in-a-soul-crushing-office-building hangover) we'll be somewhere on the road between here and the great city of Detroit. And by "great city" I mean "abandoned hellhole," but whatever.

So I guess I thought I would take the last few days here to recollect a little about the good and the bad of living here in DC.

Today's Sappy Post!

The Good: Obviously, the best thing ever about our time here in the Nation's Crapital (get it? I changed the word to make the meaning something different! LOL) is that I met so many wonderful people that populate my link field over there ---->
I will fucking miss the shit out them. And I'm angry about that. But it's a good anger, right?


The Bad: Actually, this just happened yesterday. I found out that over the weekend my friend Charles (the homeless(?) Street Sense vendor) was jumped, beaten up, and robbed by a gang of five "young'uns." Now he doesn't have money for rent and may have to move into a shelter again. He told me that it's a good thing he doesn't have a gun because now he'd be serving life in prison. What a world.

Where'd You Get That Point of View

So, as usual I found some stupid thing in the tubes today (thanks reddit) that is claiming to be the first image ever published on the world Wide WEB!!! Supposedly Tim Berners-Lee uploaded it back at CERN or something. Anyway, here it is.



However, I happen to know for a fact that this is NOT the first image to ever appear on the web. In truth, the first image to appear on the web is one of the oldest images in the history of mankind. It has crossed cultural and millennial borders, it has reached even the most remote of societies. In fact, some sociologists believe that this image is actually a part of what makes us human, part of our very identity. The first record of this image is found in cave paintings from the neo-paleolithic era, as seen below.


Even in this very early form, the image was always accompanied with a warning against masturbation. The characters below this version can be roughly translated as "Whenever thou [indecipherable, assumed to refer to autoeroticism] SunGod kills a kitten."

We also find records of this image nearly 5000 years later in frescoes produced at the height of the Roman Empire, as shown below. However, at this hedonistic point in history, the warning was reversed and read (in Latin) "Eneverwhay ooyay ontday asturbatemay, Aturnsay illskay a ittenkay."


After the fall of the Roman Empire and the rise of Christian Nation-state in the 5th century CE, all art was religious in nature and paintings of non-God related material were essentially forbidden. The warning remained and in this examplar piece of medieval art read "Everye Time Thoue Masturbateste, God Killse His Son."


Eventually, as the Enlightenment gained ground, art became more focussed on the natural as opposed to the supernatural, giving God's creation the primary spot as opposed to God himself. The impressionist era was, in many respects, the culmination of this naturalistic style of painting as it boiled art down to the essential substance in the universe: light. Monet (Painter of Light TM) finally brought this iconic image back to life. It is unclear whether or not he was aware of its prevalence throughout history. Most art historians agree that he was not and consider it one of the great masterpieces of humanist-impressionism. This was the first (and only time in the historical record) that the image was not accompanied by any warnings, in fact, rumors abound that Monet painted it primarily with his own semen, so.....


And finally, as all good things must, this picture showed up on the internet. And, like all things on the internet (including this very post) it is almost irredeemably stupid. In fact, the existence of this monumentally moronic proto-image, this meta-idea in the human conscience is used by many to justify a hard nihilism. Many Christian groups believe that God put this image into our DNA to test us and that the fossil record shows this image to be no more than 65 years old at the most. Carbon dating is unreliable.

Bad Poetry Thursday: I'd Probably Break Down and Cry

So, somebody at Wells Fargo Bank in San Francisco found AToB by googling a poem using the words pants spoons and powerade. Now, unfortunately I've never written a poem using those three words so his search was in vain. Today's poem will fix that egregious error. From henceforth, the internet will contain a poem using the words pants, spoons, and powerade.



All Things to All People
Inspired by a true story

A door hangs open
in a musty room full of fear.
Pants lie strewn across the floor
like giant, deflated inflatable flailing-arm waving guy balloons.
And in the center of this melange
amidst the rubble and the spite
a group of three spoons stands erect
surveying their kingdom of trash,
their domain of some crazy garbage.

What the hell is going on?
says Spoon 1 to spoons 2 and 3.
What happened to our joy? Our life? Our land?

Spoon 3 points his fingers at spoon 2 and says
It was he, my dear, that ruined it all.
He that poisoned our hearts and drank up
all our Powerade. We have no Powerade any more.
Our wells have run dry. Our blue gold is gone.
Peak Powerade has come,
and now has gone.

And now spoon 2 must protest
Wait, s/he says
We haven't used it all.
Here, under the pants, and trash and fire and hate
we can find some more.
We can mine some more.
We can try some more.
Here is the hope for our future,
the hope for our illustrious race of spoons.

I Think About You

I just don't know what to think any more. I thought I had seen the world's best and worst commercials. I thought I was immune to the efforts of the Global Marketing Elite. I am not. I saw this advert two days ago and the song is still reverberating around my head. Make it stop. Except you can't make it stop. I'm pretty sure it's a secret government plot to beam these sorts of things into our head with high frequency radio waves that can make us hallucinate. That way we are under control when the inevitable Malthusian collapse comes along right about...........NOW!



Flea Market!

Montgomery!

It's just like,

It's just like,

A mini.............MALL!

Of course, I would be remiss not to mention that one of the leading conspirators in the Global Marketing Elite is, without a doubt, the Vatican William H. Gates III, Jr. of Microsoft infamy. It's Windows 386, beotch! (Yes, this is real)


*there are 6 links in this post