SemiConscious Dot Org

How out of touch am I these days? I didn’t realize, until reading Luke’s most recent post, that the Oscars had already happened. And I still remain blissfully ignorant of who won. This total absence of interest in the activities of the glitterati is just one of many side benefits accruing from strict adherence to my one and only New Year’s resolution: No More TV.

Oh, alright, that’s not completely true. It’s not so much “No More TV” as it is “Mo More Stupid TV.” You see, I’ve had a “P chip” installed in the ol’ idiot box. The “P chip” blocks out everything but Parody shows. Therefore, the only programs my television will receive are The Daily Show, South Park, Chapelle’s Show, and a goodly portion of the Adult Swim lineup. If I want to watch, say, a professional sporting event or a cooking show or that hilarious Croc Hunter fellow, I have to go to a friend’s house to do so.

Of course, the “P chip” is not perfect. It occasionally gets confused as to the line between Intentional and Unintentional Parody. This can sometimes lead to unpleasant side effects, such as last week when Fox News remained unscrambled for an almost an hour. Fortunately, it was an episode of the O’Reilly Factor, so I just watched and laughed uproariously, assuming that it must be some hilarious new Comedy Central show.

The lack of television input has had immediate and unmistakably positive effects on me. I can literally feel my brain synapses rebuilding themselves day by day, and I’m pretty sure the total embargo on network news has caused a drop in my blood pressure. I’m even reading more: I just finished hacking my way through all 875 pages of Gravity’s Rainbow for the third time, and this time I even understood most of the plot! To reward myself for my diligence, instead of turning on the tube, I immediately started another, even longer, confusing postmodern novel. Huzzah for me! Now I’ll be a pretentious boor, instead of a slackjawed mouth-breathing boor like most of my countrymen.

PS. Eternal Sunshine not getting a nomination for Best Picture was a travesty of justice. A pox on the Academy; may their Seed take no Root.

How long, O Lord, how long? America sure seems chock-full of America-haters these days. From former Presidents to the AARP, the ranks of treasonous Fifth Columnists grows by the minute. I am but one man, and the self-appointed task of exposing all the flag-burning weasels within our borders is a daunting one. Sure, I was the person who brought to light the insidious Clinton/French plot to aide the invasion of America by capitalism-hating creatures from the Saturn moon Titan… but who knows how many other Fellow Travelers have slipped past my nets?

Thankfully, David Horowitz has provided a database of liberals and other traitors; a handy “one-stop shopping” center where one can fill up a cart full o’ Commies. If you’ve ever said to yourself, “Self, I just know Jay Leno and Barack Obama and Howard Dean and Bruce Springsteen are working overtime to sell out their country to the Islamofascists, but I need proof, darn it!” then this is the place for you.

However, this database only chronicles famous traitors to America, ones who are easy to spot anyway. How can I find the traitors all around me in my everyday life? My first idea was to simply administer this handy Treason Quiz to my friends and relatives, and carefully inspect the results. However, this method is inherently unreliable, as the truly clever Taliban-coddler will most likely lie, telling me what I want to hear and thus protecting their cover.

“If only there was a way to easily and effortlessly generate screeds accusing people of being traitors, without that tiresome need for objective evidence!” I thought to myself. (After all, Drudge never lets quaint fripperies like the “burden of proof” stop him from posting stories, so why should I?) And, lo and behold, the answer to my prayers arrived like manna from heaven: R.Robot, the First Self-Writing Weblog! Simply punch in the name of the person you want to slander, and out pops a computer-generated right-wing tirade branding that person an enemy of America!

I’d be willing to bet money that this is how Ann Coulter writes her columns.

And that, I think, was the handle—that sense of inevitable victory over the forces of Old and Evil. Not in any mean or military sense; we didn’t need that. Our energy would simply prevail. There was no point in fighting—on our side or theirs. We had all the momentum; we were riding the crest of a high and beautiful wave…

So now, less than five years later, you can go up on a steep hill in Las Vegas and look West, and with the right kind of eyes you can almost see the high-water mark—the place where the wave finally broke and rolled back.

Those words were written in 1971, the year I was born. I came into this world too late to see The Wave, and throughout my entire life, there has never been a single moment when the forces of Old and Evil weren’t winning.

And tonight, I find out that one of the few people left who actually seemed to care that this country is fast becoming a pathetic mockery of everything it once stood for is gone. And to make matters worse, it wasn’t the Bastards who took him out; nope, he took himself out. He let us all down.

George W. Bush and Dick Cheney and Karl Rove and the rest of their poisonous ilk must be laughing their asses off tonight. Their job just got a little easier.

(Update: 7:57 pm) The blogosphere has, not surprisingly, been rife with HST tributes and memorials today. Even less surprisingly, the one that comes the closest to echoing the savageness of Herr Doktor’s own prose is offered by The Rude Pundit.

The nattering nabobs all said it would happen one day, but I never believed them. Alas, it’s coming true right before our horrified eyes. Long has Dear Leader’s war effort been bolstered by the 101st Fighting Keyboarders, that fearless band of conservative pundits and warbloggers who compensate for their lack of desire to actually fight in a war they loudly support by denouncing its opponents as traitors to America.

But, sadly, it looks like three-plus years of pitched keyboard battle against the insidious forces of Reason and Common Sense have taken their toll. Many of these brave, brave pundits are dropping out of the fight:

Declining rates of reenlistment among right-wing pundits are forcing units on the home front in the War on Terror to operate at partial strength, limiting their effectiveness, say media sources. Factors such as long tours of duty, fierce and costly battles against a ruthless and evil enemy, and carpal tunnel syndrome have taken a severe mental and physical toll on the conservative punditry, and many pundits are opting not to enlist for second or third tours. There are rumors that a draft may be necessary to ensure that cable news, talk radio and the blogosphere have sufficient manpower to defeat the terrorists and their liberal allies.

If this manpower drain continues unabated, we are headed for catastrophe! Without a steady supply of shrill, bloviating right-wing pundits to distract their attention, people might actually notice that we’ve spent 1,469 American lives and over $300 billion in taxpayer money in Iraq to turn it into a Shiite theocracy. That would be just awful for Dear Leader’s approval ratings. It must be avoided at any cost!

Thank Jeebus we still have Colonel O’Reilly on the front lines. His smokescreens are truly a wonder to behold. After all, it’s not the revelations of prison torture at Abu Ghraib and Gitmo that are hurting America’s reputation abroad; nope, it’s the damn media that reports those revelations! They’re all traitors! Bravo, Colonel.

But a few other members of the 101st are not holding up their end of the smokescreen. I’m looking at you, General Hume! Stop wasting time lying about Social Security and get back to lying about the war. Priorities, people!

I know it’s been a long, hard fight, soldiers. And I applaud your superhuman strength and stamina; any ordinary person would have suffered a brain hemorrhage months ago, if forced to crank out the kind of jabbering bullshit you guys can churn out in your sleep. But this is no time to break down. Wingnuttia needs you as never before!

And for Christ’s sake, someone get The Emperor a towel.

Ok, so the millenium’s only five years old. What the hell has that got to do with anything?

I was originally going to do a Top 25 for the first five years of “The Oughts,” but decided to limit it to 20 when I realized that several bands were going to get two (or in some cases three) albums on the list. In particular, Outkast, The White Stripes, Queens of the Stone Age, and The Shins were all tough calls to limit to one each. Maybe in five years, when I figure out my favorite releases for the entire decade, they will get extra representation. As it is, Radiohead and Wilco got two each on the list anyway. (And yes, I realize I will catch hell for ranking A Ghost Is Born ahead of YHF and both Hail to the Thief and Amnesiac ahead of Kid A. Luckily for me, I don’t care.)

Incidentally, in case anybody’s wondering why On The Beach, an album released in 1974, gets on my Top 20 for this decade, it’s because they finally got around to putting it out on CD for the first time in 2003. Also, it’s one of the best albums Neil ever recorded, and it’s been remastered. How this dark, brooding opus remained out of print for so many years, while insipid crap like Harvest made it to CD years ago, is beyond me.

1. Queens of the Stone Age, Songs For The Deaf
2. Radiohead, Hail To The Thief
3. Wilco, A Ghost Is Born
4. The Beta Band, Hot Shots II
5. The White Stripes, White Blood Cells
6. Deltron 3030, Deltron 3030
7. Built To Spill, Ancient Melodies of the Future
8. Drive By Truckers, The Dirty South
9. Outkast, Stankonia
10. Wilco, Yankee Hotel Foxtrot
11. The Shins, Chutes Too Narrow
12. Soledad Brothers, Voice of Treason
13. Tomahawk, Mit Gas
14. Ryan Adams, Heartbreaker
15. Eagles of Death Metal, Peace Love Death Metal
16. Radiohead, Amnesiac
17. Probot, Probot
18. Menomena, I Am The Fun Blame Monster!
19. …And You Will Know Us By the Trail of Dead, Source Tags and Codes
20. Neil Young, On The Beach

So, once again, February 14th has rolled around; a day infamous for enriching greeting card companies while simultaneously causing near-suicidal despair amongst the hordes of Those Not Getting Any. But why be glum, chum? You just need to break yourself out of the conditioning, man. Don’t think of Valentine’s Day as a day to obsess over the fact that no one loves you or ever will; think of it, instead, as a day to spend in pursuit of a far more valuable and worthwhile endeavor: anonymous hookups with drunken strangers.

There, you feel better now, don’t you? I knew you would; it’s always better to be proactive then reactive. Unfortunately, as the leader of a cult with millions of sheeplike followers, I am the wrong person to be offering practical hookup advice. After all, due to my exalted position, women are constantly throwing themselves at me, as well as at the other members of the Church hierarchy. (Forget what that asshole librarian said a few weeks ago. Believe you me, we get all kinds of strange. He’s just jealous because we rejected him for membership.)

Since I have to expend absolutely no effort whatsoever to get all the lovin’ I want, I understandably can’t offer you any useful advice on hooking up with drunken strangers. I can, however, point you in the direction of those who can:

If you’ve ever tried, “Say, let’s fuck!” you’ll know that it’s not the winning strategy it appears to be. At first glance it seems to have all the elements of a great pick-up line: it tells the girl you’re interested and suggests a fun romantic activity you can both enjoy. The problem? No innuendo.

Women hate direct statements. A popular line, “I’m on top of things. Would you like to be one of them?” has had a far better success rate. You’re not saying exactly what you want to do, but there’s just that chance that it involves your genitals. This drives women wild.

When using innuendo, be careful that you’re not being too subtle, or you won’t be flirting at all. You’ll just be having a conversation, which is pointless. This is why after I’ve used innuendo and waggled my eyebrows, I usually like to add, “I’m talking about fucking.”

(link via DRT )

So you see, kids, all is not lost. You have a task set before you, a goal if you will, as well as some practical steps to follow in pursuit of that goal. Now get out there and score with some drunks! Jeebus knows, it’s better than actually attempting to form a (yurgh) meaningful relationship involving feelings and emotions. Feelings are for chumps.

You’re welcome.

If Dante was right, and the punishments of Hell are specifically tailored to each individual, I now know what my personal Hell will be.

Previously, I always figured that, when I arrived in Hell, I would find myself in an automobile, driving along Interstate 40 in Texas. Both lanes would be occupied by cars driving exactly seventeen miles per hour. The cars would be right next to each other, and there would be no shoulder or breakdown lane, leaving me no way to pass them. And the radio in my car would be stuck on a station playing Fleetwood Mac’s Rumors over and over and over, with no way to either change the channel or turn it off.

Forever.

Yes, a truly horrific vision, I know.

For years, I have always assumed that’s the scenario I would face when I died and met a punishment made inevitable by a lifetime of sin, debauchery, and lack of respect for God and Capitalism.

But no more.

For today, I have seen firsthand the true face of Hell, and it is a face so gruesome as to make even the horrors of Fleetwood Mac pale in comparison.

Hell is trying to teach a library full of ADD-afflicted second graders how to use PowerPoint.

Lo these many years has the sneaky, insidious Homosexual Agenda been on the warpath. Long before Reverend Dobson outed Spongebob, and even before Reverend Falwell exposed Tinky Winky, we had Fundamentally Oral Bill, the original prophet crying in the wilderness, and his clarion call to rouse a complacent America to the danger in our midst: Penguin Lust.

Sure, they laughed at Bill back in 1988, but who’s laughing now? For years, we’ve read terrifying stories detailing the spread of homosexuality amongst the world’s penguin population. Heck, the Liberal Media’s ceaseless attempts to “legitimize” this deviant avian lifestyle even led to a gay penguin running for President. (We’re pretty sure that the penguin’s candidacy siphoned off crucial support from Ralph Nader, thus undermining his bid to undermine John Kerry’s bid to undermine George Bush’s bid to have himself crowned Emperor For Life. But that’s a story for another day.)

Well, no more will the defenders of Decent, Family-Friendly Penguindom take this lying down. We’re fighting back, by gum! Yep, we’re gonna turn those homo penguins straight.

However, as the article points out, the attempt, while noble,

...may not be as successful as hoped after earlier experiments revealed great difficulties in separating homosexual couples.

In case they show no interest, the zoo has also flown in two new male penguins “so that the ladies don’t miss out altogether”, Kueck added.

Good thing they’re taking those sensible precautions. We don’t want the lady penguins, should they be rejected, to turn as les-bionic as your average Oklahoma high school student.

Onward, Christian Flightless Waterfowl! There are penguin souls to be saved. It won’t be easy, but then, The Lord’s Work never is.

October 27th, 2004:

February 6th, 2005:

In honor of New England’s complete and total dominance over the American professional sporting landscape, I present to you an online quiz. And no, not one of those dumbass “Which Buffy Character Are You?”-type quizzes, but one that actually answers important psychological and sociological questions. Namely:

Are you a bigger Red Sox fan or Patriots fan?

For me, taking this test was the sporting equivalent of Sophie’s Choice. I mean, how can you possibly choose between your children? And, not surprisingly, my test scores perfectly displayed my inner turmoil. I just couldn’t decide!

Now, for those of you out there not blessed enough to have been born within the borders of one of the six New England states, I understand if this test holds absolutely no interest for you. After all, there can be only so many Chosen Ones. And I sympathize with your plight. Really, I do.

PS. As of this writing, the Boston Celtics are currently in first place in the NBA’s Atlantic Division, and, if the playoffs started today, would be the third seed in the Eastern Conference playoffs. Just food for thought…

(Update – 2/7: This post previously concluded with a mocking, profanity-laced tirade directed at the good people of New York, in which I pointed out the obvious fact that Boston has now surpassed NY as the Sports Capital of America, and taunted them for their newfound Choker status. However, a friend pointed out to me that the vicious, condescending tone of the tirade made me sound, ironically enough, like a Yankees fan. This simply will not do. Therefore, consider the tirade revoked. Mea culpa.)