...i want for Capitalismas
Freedom Tray
Hand Gun
Dog Snuggie
Yacht
Slapchop*
A star named after me in the star registry
Going Rogue
Rogue Trader
Rogue
Infrared Rotisserie
Americans create, advertise, and buy some really, really stupid stuff.
My sister asked me for a "stoneware (corrected) muffin pan" and she was totally serious. I will keep mocking her on this blog until she decides to read it. I now know she actually reads it, which somehow escaped the spies at google analytics....blast!
Shopping shopping shopping (pick me up somfin)
-mas for kev
*I actually really want a slapchop. Please, someone get me a slapchop.
Friday, November 27, 2009
Wednesday, November 25, 2009
Internetz?....
....On Airplanes?????
Ach! This plane is definitely crashing.
Also, please enjoy your mealz. I'm going to New Mexico without my sister because she has swine flu. I think it's because of all of the kissing parties hosted by her theater company.
As a result, the only think that makes being at my fathers house even remotely bearable is not going to be there. If it's even remotely possible, I'm bout to get all wasted.
Ugh, just realized the gravity of the situation.
Don't think about it Don't think about it Don't think about it Don't think about it Don't think about it Don't think about it Don't think about it Don't think about it Don't think about it Don't think about it Don't think about it.
Thought about it.
This boat is obviously sinking.
-kevin turkey
p.s. We got the dog yesterday. His name is officially Manny Pacquiao. And he has wormz.
p.s.s. Hilarious foto comparison.
Ach! This plane is definitely crashing.
Also, please enjoy your mealz. I'm going to New Mexico without my sister because she has swine flu. I think it's because of all of the kissing parties hosted by her theater company.
As a result, the only think that makes being at my fathers house even remotely bearable is not going to be there. If it's even remotely possible, I'm bout to get all wasted.
Ugh, just realized the gravity of the situation.
Don't think about it Don't think about it Don't think about it Don't think about it Don't think about it Don't think about it Don't think about it Don't think about it Don't think about it Don't think about it Don't think about it.
Thought about it.
This boat is obviously sinking.
-kevin turkey
p.s. We got the dog yesterday. His name is officially Manny Pacquiao. And he has wormz.
p.s.s. Hilarious foto comparison.
Monday, November 23, 2009
listening to melt banana....
...has at once brought me a step closer to a permanent place of hyperactive, ecstatic mania.
It has also delivered me to the door of a nervous breakdown.
I thought about ending there, but it seems dangerously close to twatting.
Uh, i've been meaning to start listening to melt banana for like 4 years. Never did. Finally bought some songs on the internet. And when it comes on itunes i force myself to listen all the way through. And it's good. Like, really good. But i find myself bouncing uncontrollably and getting funny looks. It's also become clear that listening to what is the sonic equivalent of a pixie stick is not conducive to clear, well thought-out writing.
RaWR!
-ekvin
It has also delivered me to the door of a nervous breakdown.
I thought about ending there, but it seems dangerously close to twatting.
Uh, i've been meaning to start listening to melt banana for like 4 years. Never did. Finally bought some songs on the internet. And when it comes on itunes i force myself to listen all the way through. And it's good. Like, really good. But i find myself bouncing uncontrollably and getting funny looks. It's also become clear that listening to what is the sonic equivalent of a pixie stick is not conducive to clear, well thought-out writing.
RaWR!
-ekvin
Thursday, November 19, 2009
here's....
....a bunch of reasons why schools in the Americuh are the not good.
1/ Wall decorated with strange dogmatic instructions for learner outcomes like, "Student will demonstrate adequate control of first-person narrative in written work." Who the fuck is this for? 3rd graders? Teachers? I, for one, was TOTALLY INSPIRED by these things, which are all over the elementary school.
2/ Cafeterias smell like factories, just like when i was in school.
3/ 60-something year old, white, mean teachers are sucking the will to learn out of 3rd, 4th, 5th, and 6th graders who are not white everywhere i turn. It hurts to watch. Why don't these teachers get fired?
4/ Clear de facto segregation, even in the most "progressive" of southern college towns, Athens, GA.
5/ In the, "Where can I look to find facts?" poster outside of a 2nd grade classroom, "Google" ranks 4 spots above "Books".
This stuff just struck me on my last day of the semester for facilitating a tutoring program for 3rd and 4th graders. It might be my last day ever, depending on how things shake out.
There are also good things about schools. Children are awesome. Some teachers are awesome. But even visiting a school for an hour and a half a week for 6 weeks makes it clear that we're doing something wrong.
i have no control over 1st person narrative.
-kevucation
1/ Wall decorated with strange dogmatic instructions for learner outcomes like, "Student will demonstrate adequate control of first-person narrative in written work." Who the fuck is this for? 3rd graders? Teachers? I, for one, was TOTALLY INSPIRED by these things, which are all over the elementary school.
2/ Cafeterias smell like factories, just like when i was in school.
3/ 60-something year old, white, mean teachers are sucking the will to learn out of 3rd, 4th, 5th, and 6th graders who are not white everywhere i turn. It hurts to watch. Why don't these teachers get fired?
4/ Clear de facto segregation, even in the most "progressive" of southern college towns, Athens, GA.
5/ In the, "Where can I look to find facts?" poster outside of a 2nd grade classroom, "Google" ranks 4 spots above "Books".
This stuff just struck me on my last day of the semester for facilitating a tutoring program for 3rd and 4th graders. It might be my last day ever, depending on how things shake out.
There are also good things about schools. Children are awesome. Some teachers are awesome. But even visiting a school for an hour and a half a week for 6 weeks makes it clear that we're doing something wrong.
i have no control over 1st person narrative.
-kevucation
Monday, November 16, 2009
Am i still in the South?...
...I am, without a doubt, in the South.
This is just a brief little description of where i went yesterday, so that i will not forget it.
Sometimes, i write this as letters to space. The nice thing about these letters is that the internet is infinite carbon copies.
I went to a town that is sort of a suburb of Atlanta (~20 minutes away), it is a strip mall paradise, Emily reminded me what a subdivision is. This was a town where i think most of the houses were situated within subdivisions.
I was in this town to get my car's windshield fixed. I have a friend whose brother installs them for a living. She has become a consistent person that we spend time with, along with her kinda boyfriend.
She is friendly, optimistic, and energetic, if a bit neurotic. She has a southern accent that seems to be fading with more time in graduate school. She is not an idealist and it is clear that she has some issues with race that are embedded in her mind, probably due to a certain kind of upbringing that was cemented when no one was willing to tell her not to be a racist.
The plan was to meet at her parents' house, have her brother install my windshield for $165 dollars, possibly have dinner, and then to go home. I guess I've been so insulated from this 'America' that I'd forgotten what it was like. Immediately upon shaking hands, I was transported to my fathers house. A man with a medium build and a goatee, drinking beer and taking down his above-ground pool for the winter. A woman cleaning her house for the week, Velveeta cheese on the stove, and a bible verse pulled up on a laptop. Football was playing on three televisions in three rooms with a radio broadcast game in the garage.
My friend's brother had an adorable new baby, and the baby's mother drifted aimlessly from place to place as we waited for my new windshield to set.
There was a cute small dog. It liked to chew on golf balls. If you hit the balls into the woods with a golf club, the dog would sprint in and retrieve them for you. The dog had dark fur with tan accents. As Em and I stood, watching the brother hit balls into the woods, two other children riding a four-wheeler, and listening to stories about my friend's childhood, the sister-in-law made a seemingly innocuous observation.
"Good thing that dog's black. I white dog wouldn't fetch them that way."
I laughed at the observation, not knowing what it meant, in an effort to be polite. I'd laughed at everything i heard to that point, even though most of the jokes were not funny. Then Em and i made eye contact, and i realized that i should not be laughing.
In fact, i was appalled. I returned to a moment minutes earlier when my friend told me that that the family had left their old neighborhood because it was too "dark". I was reminded about this later. I also returned to several things that just...were wrong I've heard my friend say. Her kinda boyfriend calls her out on this stuff, usually before I open my mouth.
Anyway, this was all disgusting. Em and I sat with our friend in the living room, and ate chili and velveeta and cheese and watched football. Then we drove home feeling kinda sick. Or I felt kinda sick anyway.
The short version brings me back the title of this post.
I am, without a doubt, still in the South.
love,
-kltee
This is just a brief little description of where i went yesterday, so that i will not forget it.
Sometimes, i write this as letters to space. The nice thing about these letters is that the internet is infinite carbon copies.
I went to a town that is sort of a suburb of Atlanta (~20 minutes away), it is a strip mall paradise, Emily reminded me what a subdivision is. This was a town where i think most of the houses were situated within subdivisions.
I was in this town to get my car's windshield fixed. I have a friend whose brother installs them for a living. She has become a consistent person that we spend time with, along with her kinda boyfriend.
She is friendly, optimistic, and energetic, if a bit neurotic. She has a southern accent that seems to be fading with more time in graduate school. She is not an idealist and it is clear that she has some issues with race that are embedded in her mind, probably due to a certain kind of upbringing that was cemented when no one was willing to tell her not to be a racist.
The plan was to meet at her parents' house, have her brother install my windshield for $165 dollars, possibly have dinner, and then to go home. I guess I've been so insulated from this 'America' that I'd forgotten what it was like. Immediately upon shaking hands, I was transported to my fathers house. A man with a medium build and a goatee, drinking beer and taking down his above-ground pool for the winter. A woman cleaning her house for the week, Velveeta cheese on the stove, and a bible verse pulled up on a laptop. Football was playing on three televisions in three rooms with a radio broadcast game in the garage.
My friend's brother had an adorable new baby, and the baby's mother drifted aimlessly from place to place as we waited for my new windshield to set.
There was a cute small dog. It liked to chew on golf balls. If you hit the balls into the woods with a golf club, the dog would sprint in and retrieve them for you. The dog had dark fur with tan accents. As Em and I stood, watching the brother hit balls into the woods, two other children riding a four-wheeler, and listening to stories about my friend's childhood, the sister-in-law made a seemingly innocuous observation.
"Good thing that dog's black. I white dog wouldn't fetch them that way."
I laughed at the observation, not knowing what it meant, in an effort to be polite. I'd laughed at everything i heard to that point, even though most of the jokes were not funny. Then Em and i made eye contact, and i realized that i should not be laughing.
In fact, i was appalled. I returned to a moment minutes earlier when my friend told me that that the family had left their old neighborhood because it was too "dark". I was reminded about this later. I also returned to several things that just...were wrong I've heard my friend say. Her kinda boyfriend calls her out on this stuff, usually before I open my mouth.
Anyway, this was all disgusting. Em and I sat with our friend in the living room, and ate chili and velveeta and cheese and watched football. Then we drove home feeling kinda sick. Or I felt kinda sick anyway.
The short version brings me back the title of this post.
I am, without a doubt, still in the South.
love,
-kltee
Thursday, November 12, 2009
Friday, November 6, 2009
ode to...
...the dreadlock rat tail guy.
Esteemed Rat Tail Guy,
There is something growing out of your head.
What could it be?
Did you rush your barber? Pay her for 95% of a haircut? Insinuate that his razor might be put to better use on his lady's moustache?
Is that valiant tress the last known member of the famed dreadlock resistance army?
Or is your skull simply pooping?
Your girlfriend is not attractive. That's ok. She never says anything about your smell and will even occasionally attend your Devilstick competitions.
You are a rogue agent, Rat Rail Guy, and that's fucking righteous. Grow that thing out ad infinitum. No person can take your head poop away from you. It is yours and yours alone.
Your hairdo gives honor to all of that lone dred's fallen brethren.
I salute you,
-rat terr
Esteemed Rat Tail Guy,
There is something growing out of your head.
What could it be?
Did you rush your barber? Pay her for 95% of a haircut? Insinuate that his razor might be put to better use on his lady's moustache?
Is that valiant tress the last known member of the famed dreadlock resistance army?
Or is your skull simply pooping?
Your girlfriend is not attractive. That's ok. She never says anything about your smell and will even occasionally attend your Devilstick competitions.
You are a rogue agent, Rat Rail Guy, and that's fucking righteous. Grow that thing out ad infinitum. No person can take your head poop away from you. It is yours and yours alone.
Your hairdo gives honor to all of that lone dred's fallen brethren.
I salute you,
-rat terr
Wednesday, November 4, 2009
this is what happens...
...when a chubby Jewish man who has henceforth written shallow, amusing, strange, and catchy ditties starts to write about what is in himself. What results is all of the best neuroses of Annie Hall and Portnoy's complaint whined over music that is serious, sad, and serene. But still strange.
Witness "Eskimo Snow", the newest release from Why?. I bought this record because I liked the self-titled Joey played for me in college. I've been listening to it a lot and the lyrics of the song below ("Into the Shadows of My Embrace") are something special, I think. I played it on the radio the other night but the person in charge of me made me turn it off after he sang "masturbatin".
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
I conquered my own childhood silence and now the world is my lit confessional marquee,
but it'd take a busload of high school soccer girls to wash those hospitals off me
Oh, am I clean?
Nineteen.
They said sex will keep you young and make you older at the same time,
They said sex will have left you aged normally,
And so I guess it's sorta like smoking and walking at the same time
In that it will have left you aged normally
Oh, am I clean?
Lord, please, why me?
I wish I could feel close to somebody but I don't feel nothing.
Now they say I need to quit doing all this random ffff-(uckin)
Now I think my upstairs neighbor hears me masturbating,
And there's other one's peeping through the slits in my curtains
And I never got a name for my shady compulsion
'Cause i messed up and kissed my shrink in a jersey city hotel room..
And I know saying all this in public should make me feel funny,
But ya gotta yell something out you'd never tell nobody.
We found the dead fox, and a dozen matchbox cars, when we cut back the hedges on Cortelyou place,
How many got lost left so long they grew moss 'cause they recoiled into the shadows of my embrace?
We found the dead fox, and a dozen matchbox cars
When we cut back the hedges on Cortelyou Place,
How many got lost left so long they grew moss 'cause they recoiled into the shadows of my embrace?
Oh, am I clean?
Lord, please, why me?
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Dunno...I thought that these lyrics were pretty good and expressive of why (Why?) people sing disturbing and/or embarrassing things on physical artifacts (albums) for thousands of listeners forever and on. So I gave them to you in print.
You should listen to this album.
i'll never write a movie with a father character who speaks like an animatronic in an afterschool america,
-kevin?
Witness "Eskimo Snow", the newest release from Why?. I bought this record because I liked the self-titled Joey played for me in college. I've been listening to it a lot and the lyrics of the song below ("Into the Shadows of My Embrace") are something special, I think. I played it on the radio the other night but the person in charge of me made me turn it off after he sang "masturbatin".
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
I conquered my own childhood silence and now the world is my lit confessional marquee,
but it'd take a busload of high school soccer girls to wash those hospitals off me
Oh, am I clean?
Nineteen.
They said sex will keep you young and make you older at the same time,
They said sex will have left you aged normally,
And so I guess it's sorta like smoking and walking at the same time
In that it will have left you aged normally
Oh, am I clean?
Lord, please, why me?
I wish I could feel close to somebody but I don't feel nothing.
Now they say I need to quit doing all this random ffff-(uckin)
Now I think my upstairs neighbor hears me masturbating,
And there's other one's peeping through the slits in my curtains
And I never got a name for my shady compulsion
'Cause i messed up and kissed my shrink in a jersey city hotel room..
And I know saying all this in public should make me feel funny,
But ya gotta yell something out you'd never tell nobody.
We found the dead fox, and a dozen matchbox cars, when we cut back the hedges on Cortelyou place,
How many got lost left so long they grew moss 'cause they recoiled into the shadows of my embrace?
We found the dead fox, and a dozen matchbox cars
When we cut back the hedges on Cortelyou Place,
How many got lost left so long they grew moss 'cause they recoiled into the shadows of my embrace?
Oh, am I clean?
Lord, please, why me?
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Dunno...I thought that these lyrics were pretty good and expressive of why (Why?) people sing disturbing and/or embarrassing things on physical artifacts (albums) for thousands of listeners forever and on. So I gave them to you in print.
You should listen to this album.
i'll never write a movie with a father character who speaks like an animatronic in an afterschool america,
-kevin?
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