Friday, December 12, 2014
I heard a Michael Buble Christmas song on the radio the other day. I almost drove my car off the road and into a tree (on purpose). I don’t know why but I have an unnatural hate for the guy. I obviously don’t know him or anything about him. But whenever I hear his music a blind rage starts to burn deep inside of me. I literally want to break shit and hurt people (and I’m not an angry person – I swear). Maybe he wronged me in a past life. Maybe I’m jealous of his fame and fortune. Or maybe I’m spot on and his music is complete garbage. Fuck – just writing this post makes me think about him singing and that stupid (I’m so sexy) look he gets on his face. Thinking about him singing with that stupid look on his face makes me angry. Now you’ve done it Buble – you’ve pissed me off without doing anything at all. Damn it – why do I hate you so much? Clearly the only thing left to do is write a poem:
Buble, Buble I wish you’d go away
Your wife is super hot, though I thought you were gay
A smug look in your eyes, you think you’re the shit
But I cannot stand you, not one little bit
The awards that you’ve won I cannot explain
Your voice makes me sick, fills my soul with disdain
Your hair is just so, you are never clean shaven
You’re a miserable douche bag just like Cliff Clavin
Every time that you sing it makes my ears bleed
My hatred for you it grows like a weed
You’re a self-absorbed jackass there isn’t a doubt
But what is this deep seeded loathing really about?
I googled your name and it became plain as day…
You’re a maple leaf loving Canadian, eh?
And there you have it.
Friday, December 5, 2014
I’ve been having trouble getting inspired lately. Maybe it’s because I’ve been distracted by football season or the holidays. Maybe it’s because nothing blog worthy has been happening. Or maybe I’ve simply run out of shit to write about. Any of these things are entirely possible but I suspect the problem may actually lie deeper below the surface. Images of people behaving badly are literally plastered all around us. Kim Kardashian attempting to “break the internet” with a shameless picture of her mountainous, bare ass on the cover of Paper Magazine (crave attention much?). Shia Labeouf allegedly getting raped by some random, unnamed woman at his existential #IAMSORRY “art” exhibit in Los Angeles (good thing he’s “not famous anymore”). Justin Bieber, well, being Justin Bieber (how did Canada’s turd become our problem?). At some point does it all just fade into white noise until we’re completely numb to it? Or to put it another way in this new age of big data, social media, and wireless mobility is unabashed douchebagery the new normal? Poor behavior is not just confined to celebrities either. Every night on the news we are inundated with images of people in cities and towns across America breaking and stealing shit that doesn’t belong to them in the name of social injustice (is the irony more palpable when I say it out loud?). I log on to my kid’s Instagram accounts and it’s a barrage of kissy-faced selfies and inappropriately clad tweens. I go into restaurants and see families glued to their “smart” phones and tablets instead of conversing with one another. It’s enough to make you shake your head and think to yourself, what the fuck happened? And how did we come to this?
I fear that we are now living in a modern day Sodom and Gomorrah. God’s probably sitting up there on his throne looking down and thinking to himself, “What the fuck did I do? Those asshats are completely missing the point of human creation. What a colossal waste of the last 2000 years.” He’s probably got his finger on the release button getting ready to make burning sulfur rain down upon us. Perhaps if we immediately sacrifice all dickbag celebrities and throw away our cell phones we can avoid divine retribution and reverse our fiery fate?
And then it hits me – I turned 41 years old today. People are no more fucked up now than they’ve always been. I’ve just become more cynical and less patient at my advanced age. Holy shit – I’ve officially turned into a grumpy, old man. Happy birthday to me.