"i was hoping i'd catch you out of luck." - haywood
the most insulting thing in America right now is the show Rich Girls on the so-called Music Television Network, which teaches persons too young to know better to idolize the idle wealthy simply for being idle and wealthy. this is much worse than so-called reality shows focusing on celebrities who previously achieved fame through the media for being beautiful, for being able to memorize lines, for being able to make their faces do things that convey McDonalds-quality emotions via the idiot boxes clotting the discourse in homes around the globe. The dipshits who star in this reality program are on TV simply because of their wealth. And while people of my vintage and temperament can find ideological or just plain grammatical fault with every goddamn word that comes out of the pieholes of the dumbasses pictured therein, my fear is that MTV's target audience of money-besotten teens don't have the critical thinking skills to not view the entire thing as something to aspire to: being rich for the sake of being idle and fully satisfied. At no point in the admittedly only 10 minutes of viewing my newly re-patriated wife subjected me to yesterday did there seem to be any acknowledgement that Tommy Hilfiger worked (or, more likely, thousands of underpaid third world garment workers worked) so that these teen idiots could alternate weekends between Nantucket and the Hamptons, as they did in what I watched yesterday. It would be easy to take this tirade to a million different places having to do with the younger generation going to hell, or hell, every living generation going to hell. But instead I will simply award the stupid vanity fair a super-sized "fuck you very much" and move on.
A rousing game of admittedly less-competitive dominoes was executed thursday night at the MOS with H-Dog from Accounts Receivable, Jimmy 4N and Jimmy's cohabitants. Good times. Friday the wife returned and proceeded to catch up on some much needed rest, so I headed over to A.R.C. to the Common Ground to mark the 29th bdays of Jonny Vegas and La Cardona. I was too tired from the preceding night's revelry to really get down, but it was fun hanging out with the aforementioned company and Ricky C.
Thanksgiving is this week, and we are looking forward to a return to PA to see the various families. After that December is shaping up to be a blur, as work-related parties are popping up left and right like weeds. Should be fun on the whole, and the next 7 or 8 weeks will just be a long coast down hill with no hands on the handlebars, what with the pending Woodbury/Perkins nuptials slated for mid January. The new laptop is en route and this is likely the penultimate if not ultimate post to clicky clicky 2004v.2 from this tired old machine. Once I get the data wiped I am going to recycle, unless Mathews thinks there might be a way to rig it as simply 4 gigs of external storage for the other machine? We'll take that up with him later.
Just to get some of the usual music talk in, here is what has been getting the heavy music rotation this week:
The Beatles: Please, Please Me/Hard Day's Night
Lawrence: The Absence of Blight
Notwist: Neon Golden
Mendoza Line: Poems to a Pawnshop/Like Someone in Love
Uncle Tupelo: March 16-20 1992
That is all.