Turn Down For This

I’m always up-to-date on pop culture trends. Always. Recently, a song that has made some waves/hit some waves has been the smash hit of Lil John, “Turn Down for What?”

The song is a crazy rappy beaty mix song with effects and lyrics. The chorus of the song features Lil John in his signature gravel throat glarbling, shouting angrily at everyone a question for the ages, “Turn Down for What?”

You know what, that’s not fair. I say shouting angrily, but I don’t necessarily know that. As a man who has been misunderstood for decades, of a race that has been misunderstood for millennia, I can’t stand by and misrepresent. Lil John is probably a really decent guy. A quick internet scour teaches us that his name is actually Jonathan Smith! That’s the name of a hard-working American man! He was born in January! Lots of people are! He went to Saint Joseph’s University in Philadelphia, which is famous for…! ...something, probably! The man has at least a partial college education and is therefore intelligent and respectful and courteous. Clearly he is a normal guy.

After having learned so much about the man behind the glarbles, I’ve come to suspect that Lil Jon’s seemingly crunk and abrasive “Turn Down for What?” is a genuine inquiry—a social commentary of crunk proportions. So I’ve created a list of things that a normal guy like Lil Jon and his friends could/should/would obviously turn down for, presented the necessity or opportunity.

Things that Lil Jon would probably turn down for:

his neighbors maybe trying to fall asleep

AIDS

kony 2012

little kids who made a lemonade stand

an old lady crossing the street

baby birds chirping in a nearby tree

the sound of children’s laughter

encouraging words from a loved one

reruns of Gilmore Girls

a proposition for means by which to rid ourselves of social injustice

peaceful sit-ins

the new Daughtry album

Lectures on speculative capital

ways to end impoverishment in inner cities

Youth hospitals

Tea time

Fundraisers

Patriotism

Mutual respect and understanding

Hugs not drugs

A game of Yahtzee

the Industrial revolution

Maritime poetry

Love at first sight

PSAs

the silence of the xi

Girl Scout Cookies

hopefully a funeral

A twilight promenade

Sea slugs

Philosophical quandaries
Mr. Holland's Opus

diplomatic discourse

public transportation

a Shake Weight

The secret menu at Jamba Juice

smart financial planning

childhood dreams

a round of Bop-It

The Fault in our Stars

His mother

And this is just to name a few. Lil Jon’s a reasonable guy, albeit a bit crunk. But crunkness doth not beget bunkness. So let’s not jump to conclusions when presented things in even the crunkliest of packages. Lil Jon realizes exactly what’s most important in life because he’s not afraid to ask the hard-hitting questions.

We know what we would turn down for. Do you?

Still the Walrus

I stumbled across this little gem today:

This cries out to me with the voice of a thousand angel babies. In my last post, I expressed my affinity for maimed animal parts hanging prominently in my home. This is a chance to right a terrible wrong—a shot at redemption. However: I am savvy to the earth's position in relation to the sun, and how our path as we hurdle endlessly through space around a feebly burning ball of compact elements has been arbitrarily organized into a series of evenly divided sectors to make sense of the abstract and limited concept of time. Therefore, I know that our current position has been designated an appropriate one in which to affront one another with falsehoods and pranks in an attempt to mock and ridicule... Harumph. As if it were even real. As if I would even want that patrician beast's fuzzy noggin ennobling my harrowed heart. I won't be had again. I won't.


I can't.

I...

.

...want

...

I'll be right back.

I Am the Walrus

I’m not actually a walrus, nor do I think the person that wrote that song was.

Throughout time, there have been great ideas. One of those is craigslist, and related classified sites. Through them, I have made some highly worthwhile transactions and obtained some great products at a collectively reasonable price. Of late, I have been scouring a local site with a classified section called KSL. See, I moved a few months ago. The apartment to which I moved was unfurnished. This was nice because I felt like a big boy, but ‘twas less than ideal because furniture can be expensive and difficult to obtain. This is where KSL comes in; KSL has a free section, where people post things for free. Like without cost. Through this, I’ve been able to track down decent furniture for said place. With enough diligence, someone can furnish an entire apartment literally for free. This is great for financially strapped young dudes, of which my roommates and I are several. And this is what I did. I was able to furnish my entire bedroom (mattress, box spring, dresser, desk, bookcase) for approximately $15. I feel good about this.

In this search for furniture, I sifted through a lot of postings for free things. Not long ago, I came across something that would change my life forever: a taxidermied walrus head.

What?: my first response. NEED: my second and overriding response. Of the strange and bowel-curdling things to find on the internet, this was one of them, and it reigns supreme. Of the things I find on the internet and want but don't need, this is a big one, and it reigns supreme. How did someone obtain this? Where did it come from? Why was it a thing? I had so many questions; I was twitter-pated. But I didn't need answers. All I needed was that walrus head.

I immediately texted the seller. "give me your walrus head," was my desperate plea. After 2 excruciating minutes, they hadn't responded and I couldn't risk being beaten out by another. I called the number; it went straight to voicemail. By this time I was in a panic. I writhed on the floor where I waited, pressed against my couch and circumstance. My crumpled body lie rung by helplessness, subject to the will of another. But there was no return to ignorance—I'd already seen too much. I couldn't just pretend that there was no walrus head and that I'd be happy without it on my wall. I'm just not that strong.

Minutes turned into hours, hours into hemorrhoids. Finally, as if respite from a heavenly messenger, the familiar buzz of a text shook the couch near my tear-drenched cheeks. "come pick it up$20." To this was reduced my humanity.

Encouraged by the contact, which glimmered as a beacon of brightest hope, I pressed on. I questioned the price (having found it in the free section), but decided that if he weren't willing to barter, $20 was worth foregoing a lifetime of regret. "mountain dew bottles work best," was the response.  

… ?

I tried calling a couple more times, hoping to arrange the exchange before this man produced any more words, which only stood as a symbol of the separation between me and my one true desire. After continuing to call and reaching only a blank line, a confused child, and a strange one-sided conversation with a grown man, a disheartening reality began to vie for my attention.

Among the nice things about KSL is that it allows for many people to contact each other that wouldn’t be able to otherwise. Among the downsides of KSL, and internet-based interactions in general, is anonymity: an inability to interact with people face to face makes some of these transactions strange and uncomfortable, to say the least. It also allows for fake ads to be made with real numbers, and the perpetrator can walk away scot free. But the perpetratee is left to walk alone, forever held in tow by what might have been.

O Walrus mistress! O Cruellest of fates! O Heartless and cunning tricksters—Hear my lament! For such is the cry of a lover's scorn, wanting nothing of her own, yet left only therewith...

Eventually I accepted my suspicions as reality. Turns out the whole thing was a hoax. The ad was taken down shortly after my calls, and I was quickly able to find the exact same image that captured my heart merely minutes before on a google image search—an image that I thought represented something uniquely personal, something wholly mine. But an image near the top of a google image search is anything but.

I sat for a while, silent as the emptiness that had come to replace my boyish gumption. It's hard to lose something you hold dear; but sometimes it's harder never to have held it at all.

I sent a text to the number that was the source of my disdain—a disabused yelp into a mockingly indifferent void. In it, I offered congratulations for a prank well pulled. But the text was carried on the wings of heartache, borne on the winds of sorrow. And I hope they felt it.

Sometimes we are defined by the choices we make and the life we choose to live. Sometimes, just as defining is the life that passes us by, despite our ever reaching, ever yearning.

I am not the walrus, and I will never be.

2/2

Today, as I was writing the date on a piece of paper, I had to notice that it is February 2nd. This is a day that already boasts a lot of important holidays like World Wetlands Day, Inventor's Day in Thailand, and Groundhog Day, which is when a subterranean rodent named Phil emerges from its earthen abode to do absolutely nothing and have that decide the very weather patterns which will soon befall us, and at whose mercy we live our fragile little lives. Despite all this, I realized something about today that I never had before: it is missing a very important tradition.

Written in most month/date formats, today's date would generally be 2/2. If you forget all the associated date stuff and simply pronounce the numbers, it then becomes 2 2, or two two. This sounds phonetically identical to an article of clothing worn by ballerinas called the tutu. Therefore, it stands to reason that there be established a tradition that people start wearing tutus on February 2nd to celebrate two two with a clever play on words/numbers/dates/stuff! Yeah! Look how awesome it could be!!!

Adorable!

I can't stand it!

Splendid!

Okay sure!

Uh... well, maybe.

Wait

uh...

Oh geeze

Okay

...

After some more thought, maybe we already have enough holidays.

Internet Treachery

The internet can be a dark, devastating place. Part of the reason this is possible is because of its rampant anonymity. Sometimes people choose to do abhorrent things when they know their identity will not be attached to their deeds. Today, I tell a tale of internet treachery.

As the story goes, I was on the internet. I was scrolling and looking and reading and chuckling. It was a fairly normal interaction with the internet. I wouldn’t say we’re close, but we do spend a fair amount of time together and have developed a mutual understanding. As I scrolled mid-chuckle down a feed of the internet, I saw a thing. The thing was an article that touched on what was, for me, a topic of great interest. As I slouched there on my couch, I became intrigued.

The only thing that gave me pause was that the title of said article seemed click-baity to me. As I expressed in a blogpost that none of you have read because I never published it and would therefore not serve to present you with the following information, I

/loathe/

click-baiting articles. They make me upset in ways that leave me feeling really upset. Sometimes, I will forego clicking on a link that seems very interesting to me simply because the title is click-baity, and I refuse to give in to such base dross. This probably speaks to deep issues of my own, but, hey, look over there.

This time, however, the subject matter was of such great interest, and the article title was not-blatantly-or-annoyingly-click-baity-enough and I couldn’t refuse.

So! Situation set up, I was scrolling and saw an article entitled Tonight will be the longest night in the history of Earth—Why it’ll be the longest period of darkness in the last 4.5 billion years. Color me intrigued! You might notice the last post on this very blog has to do with Daylight Saving Time, the shortening of days, and increased darkness. I am passionate about my sunshine, and had been excited about the solstice for weeks because it marks the point where the amount of day in a day starts increasing again. That, coupled with my love of all things astronomy, helped me swallow my pride and convinced me to click on this little linky to learn a lil sumthin about some science in preparation for my day in the sun. But when the internet did its thing and the article loaded, this was the title that awaited me:

Correction: Tonight will not be the longest night in the history of Earth.

What? Wait, what? You mean to tell me I clicked on your link because I was interested to read about its subject matter and your article exists merely to tell me the literal opposite of what I was interested in? Hmm. Go on.

What the heck? You drew me in by piquing my interest just to make me come all the way across these bandwidths to tell me that the thing that piqued my interest isn’t actually a thing at all. The very explanation we promised you doesn’t exist, so here’s a sentence telling you something else entirely. Hope that works. Hey if you come over here I'll tell you about this thing! Nope jk nvrmndlol

With all the effort that goes into editing in the correction, why not just change the title or delete the post entirely? Maybe the effect of the original click-baiting has worn off and now articles will just have any old title that might get you to click, and when you get there it will be about literally anything else.

Lose weight in 3 easy steps!

Ways to use meat!

A touching story about puppies!

Your favorite actor on vacation!

Will robots?

Money, etc.!

After all, clicks, etc., and who doesn't love a good surprise?

Harbinger, Lifebringer

Gather close all you hold dear, and run and hide—a great evil is upon us.

We are currently entrenched in probably my favorite time of the year: the autumn. This has likely been apparent to those of you who have eyes and use them to see things. On the calendar, it tells you we are in the months generally held in the northern hemisphere to make up autumn. Also trees start going through weird hormonal changes, and it looks cool to the rest of us, unlike our own hormonal changes as tweens. Autumn presents a time of transcendent beauty, and a time of transition. Although the transition itself is a sight to behold, it is a transition to a bleaker time. Indeed, after fall’s beauty has passed us by, a heartless dame comes to take something precious and usher in the cold night of winter...

Whether or not you buy into its efficiency or sensibility, Daylight Saving is a veritable entity in the majority of the United States. It comes around twice a year. Each time, Daylight Saving involves a mysterious form of time travel—you go to bed and wake up and time itself has shifted. You see, Daylight Saving time was invented by the druids, who cast a spell on the sun and created a wormhole through which the sun and the earth would pass twice a year, once taking us back in time an hour and once propelling us into the future an hour. Because of this wormhole time travel and paradigm shift, the relationship between the earth and the sun is altered, and the time at which the sun sets and rises is altered along with it. So Daylight Saving comes twice a year, and we’re lucky to survive it—it’s a pretty big deal. One of these times, it is harbinger lifebringer, my favorite thing in the entire world. The other time, it is my greatest enemy, the bane of my very existence. The former is Spring Forward. The very mention of it makes my heart spring from my chest and propel itself an unsafe distance from my body. The latter is Fall Back. Many people enjoy ‘Fall Back,’ because it gives them an extra hour of sleep. These people are the wrongest people I’ve ever mentioned on the internet.

Imagine a world shrouded in darkness. It shouldn’t be too hard to imagine—Pitbull won a Grammy. You awake to the sound of nothing, echoing off of nothing else. You peer out the window and see shadows, cast by nothing onto nothing else. The moon hails from afar, distant enough that it’s light ne’er seems to reach. There is no laughter, there is no hope. Darkness without respite, hollowness without end. You peer into the lugubriousness and feel only a reflection of what has become of your conscience. You arise to blackness—a blackness that accompanies you throughout your day, surrounding your physical being while permeating the mental. You lie down again in blackness. The accomplishments of your day are swallowed up in the gaping hole left in the sky by the departure of the only thing that gave you any meaning. This is your life now.

Now think about the alternative. You time travel to another time, full of light and warmth and heat and prosperity. You have an extra hour of light to do whatever you please, or whatever pleases you. And in this extra hour, you are warm. You can feel the love and innocence of a child. You bask in the majesty of life and understanding. You are at peace. You are one. The reason you lose an hour of sleep is because you are so excited to travel to this time and place. It’s something new and exciting, yet familiar all at the same time. It’s something brave and candescent, something inspiring and grand. Inaudible music ebbs and flows around you and you feel inspiration in each ray from the sun that gently glazes your skin. You know that this is where you’re meant to be. You’ve always been meant to be, but especially here. It’s like coming home to a home, the air filled with the scent of freshly baked bread, the walls covered in pictures of loved ones and achievements. You plop down on a gentle couch and it all comes rushing back to you. Disappointed that you’d ever let it leave in the first place, you take it all in, top it off with a deep breath, and sink into the dream-like reality.

If you're not awares and maybe missed the wormhole, we have just experienced Fall Back. Sure, Fall Back allows for an extra hour of sleep. But that only happens once. And in this Fallen Back world you’ve encountered, an hour of sunlight has been sucked from your day every day. When you’re subject to an early sunset, the darkness onsets sooner. This reminds you of the frailty of life and your inability to control your surroundings. As the darkness sets in, so does your doubt and all of your fears—one hour earlier than usual. So you get to keep your hour, but instead of being an hour of light and happiness and hope and motivation, it’s an hour filled with dread and regret for all the things you’ve done and all the things you could be. I feel it. I feel it every day. To me the choice is clear.

And so until then, I await thee, Harbinger, Lifebringer, Songsinger, Lightslinger; until the bright dawn of lengthened day sends forth a new hope and fills our lives with surety, allows us to dream again. Until the dross of frailty is pulled from our hearts, I will press on, eager in anticipation, waiting strong for that great day. Yea; come.

SHOO, FLY

Summer is usually a nice time. Aside from sweltering heat that swelters, the sun is nice, and the weather is nice, and the long days are nice. One thing that’s not nice about summer is insects, which are technically a plethora of things. One insect that is particularly not nice is the fly.

Despite their hipster appeal and glowing mystique, flies are common, and inconsiderate, and make a habit of touching gross things. This understanding has caused me a bit of concern over the last day or two. Somehow, a couple of flies have made their way into my abode. As far as I’m aware, there are two of them. One is in my bedroom. The other is in my living room. These are the places that I spend all of my time when home. So! When I’m relaxing in my chair in my room, there is a fly to annoy me. When I’m relaxing on my couch in the living room, there is a fly to annoy me. And annoy me they do! They buzz around me almost constantly. They’ll buzz onto my leg, so I swat at them. This will cause an evasive buzz before they turn and plop back exactly where they were before. Maybe they didn’t get the hint. I swat again and they courteously buzz around for a moment on their way up to my face, which is obviously preferable. I swat and then they go for the ear, which completes my annoyance by providing a grating soundtrack to the whole pantomime. You know the routine.

Seeing as how this has become a regular occurrence, I have been thinking about it a lot. And this is where the concern comes in. Here is internet knowledge—partake:

House Flies

• House flies, also known as "filth flies," have the ability to harm humans and animals. They're attracted to garbage, manure and carrion. Once they land on these substances, they transport bits of them to people when they land on food and surfaces where food is prepared. House flies not only regurgitate their stomach contents onto food before ingesting it again, they also defecate on food. House flies are not picky about the foods or filth that they consume.

House flies are horribly annoying and endlessly disgusting. This paragraph consists of 4 sentences. In them, we are brought to understand 7 horrendous facts about flies. This is an unpromising ratio for one’s reputation. However, the second sentence is the one upon which I am currently fixated. If flies are attracted to garbage, manure, and carrion, why are they so infatuated with me all of a sudden? My apartment is not always a cleanly place. In fact, until the other day, it was quite uncleanly. Why, if there’s a sizable pile of trash 15 feet away, do these flies find the need to instead come and poop and barf on and then get a taste of me? I mean I’d understand and maybe be a little flattered if these flies had the reputation of being attracted to charm or wit or nuance. But when you type ‘what are flies attracted to’ into your web browser, those are not the responses. They’re trash, poop, and rotting corpses.  I take pride in being able to fully bathe myself. Does that mean nothing to them? Do I smell bad? Do I not clean myself well enough? Am I rotting? I’m pretty sure I’m not a corpse yet. Furthermore, not only are they attracted to these things, but they literally will not eat anything until they smother it in a layer of vomit or crap, or both. What about me is so like the epitome of waste that they would go out of their way and risk being swatted or smashed or enduring a livid diatribe to                   get some?

Guh. So not only are these flies annoying and filthy and hipster and uncouth, but they have succeeded in withering my self-confidence. Herein we see the effects of the first point brought up in the all-knowing paragraph above: flies can harm people. We all know flies can’t physically harm us unless attached to a bomb. But they sure can do some emotional damage if you let them. If something as unawares as a fly senses something putrid about me, I find it difficult to assume that sentient, cognizant human beings won’t be able to pick up on the same. If I stink or otherwise remind you of roadkill, please please let me know. I want to change. I really do.

On a related note, fall is (has been) here! As we traverse the season, colder weather draws ever nearer. In fact, I’ve received reports that tonight will be accompanied by freezing temperatures for the first time all year. Colder weather will bring an end to these flies, and perhaps, a rebirth of my self esteem thereby. The circle of life, everyone.

Let this be a lesson to us all that, no matter how large our trials and challenges may be, we can chip away at them until they become a crumpled sobbing heap on the floor of life. All you have to do is treat them like they’re fecal. Also, tell someone you love them today, and maybe that they don’t smell terrible.