Happy Holidays

We’re a generation of men raised by women. I’m wondering if another woman is really the answer we need.

—Chuck Palahniuk & Jim Uhis, Fight Club, 1999

Posted in incoherent ramblings | Leave a comment

It Does Take Dedication

There are few things humans are more dedicated to than unhappiness. Had we been placed on this earth by a malign creator for the exclusive purpose of suffering, we would have good reason to congratulate ourselves on our enthusiastic response to the task. Reasons to be inconsolable abound: the frailty of our bodies, the fickleness of love, the insincerities of social life, the compromises of friendship, the deadening effects of habit. In the face of such persistent ills, we might naturally expect that no event would be awaited with greater anticipation than the moment of our own extinction.

—Alain de Botton, How Proust Can Change Your Life

Posted in observations | Tagged Alain de Botton, meaning of life, observation, quotations, what the fuck is wrong with us?, why can't you just be happy for me? | Leave a comment

How To Use The Fucking Internet, Part One

Okay, look, this is getting out of control. Stop it with the passive-aggressive, dysfunctional relationship you’ve developed with your web browser. How is it that you have fifteen thousand bookmarks but you have no idea what is going in the world? Daily visits to I Can Has Cheezburger and MySpace are really the best you can do?

Really?

It is December of the year two thousand and eight and if you still have no idea what Really Simple Syndication is all about, you are a goddamn idiot. You’ve noticed the little RSS icon that pops-up in your location bar when you visit a site, right? Hey! Why look at that! The location bar for Super Secret Sunshine even has one of those RSS thingamabobs! Weren’t you the least bit intellectually curious as to what that meant? Even a teensy bit?

Then what the fuck is wrong with you?

Look, there is this neat thing that has been around for the better part of a decade that is now used by pretty much every web site in existence. IT IS FUCKING AWESOME. It allows you to gather up all your website bookmarks, place them in a special program, and then get notified when the website has new content. ISN’T THAT FUCKING INCREDIBLE? Furthermore, once you have read a story, you can mark it as read and never see it again. I AM IN SUCH ECSTASY THAT I JUST SCRATCHED MY FUCKING EYES OUT.

You have an account with Google, right? Right? Oh, come on. Are you retarded? You use the site a million times every day and you don’t have an account with the company? I AM SO FRUSTRATED WITH YOU RIGHT NOW I COULD KICK YOU IN THE NUTS. Go sign-up already. Go!

Once you have an account with Google, the rest should be pretty self-explanatory. Point your browser at Google Reader. Click on the a giant button that says, “Add a subscription.” Type in www.supersecretsunshine.com and press the return key on your keyboard. HOLY CRAP YOU ARE NOW IN THE FUTURE.

Did you just pee in your pants? Me too.

Posted in world wide web | Tagged fail, google reader, how to use the fucking internet, intellectual curiosity, rss, the ship is sinking faster than you can bail it out, there is no hope for you | Leave a comment

Thank you, Bettie Page

Bettie Page On The Beach

The news just crossed my desk that Bettie Page has passed away. She was 85.

Posted in art | Tagged beauty, bettie page, life, pin-up girls, youth | Leave a comment

Post-Coital Bliss

I just realized that I have been sitting here in a semi-catatonic state for most of the past month. If you ask me? That was some good election action. My favorite part was watching CNN try to spice things up with fancy-shmancy, Star Wars-inspired three-dee graphics — as if electing the first African-American to the nation’s highest office wasn’t enough of an event on it’s own.

Now that’s what I call cynical.

Anyway. Super Secret Sunshine will continue, although it’s publication schedule may remain erratic for the time being. Anger is our fuel and, for all the beating our economy is currently taking, we are still giddy with excitement over Obama’s ascendancy. Go America!

Posted in incoherent ramblings | Tagged a reason to breathe, cnn, hooray, it is a new age | Leave a comment

Some Preliminary Thoughts On Bioshock

Posted in video games | Tagged big daddy, bioshock, drawing, file under things you don't want to run into in a giant abandoned underwater city | Leave a comment

Fending Off The Rapture

The Super Secret Sunshine headquarters has been in panic mode for the past few weeks. So concerned are we about the outcome of today’s presidential election, we have been observing a variety of religious practices in order to fend off the coming end times. Because, make no mistake — if McCain is elected today? The Rapture is just around the corner.

So, as we sit here now around the office conference table, hugging our knees to our chests and slowly rocking back and forth like a group of autistic fourth graders, our eyes stare transfixed at the television in the corner where CNN is going ape-shit celebrating its highest ratings in years. Those commercials? Fucking Super Bowl ad rates, I’m guessing. Rosaries, Buddhist statues, a rabbit’s foot, candles, crucifixes, incense, The Idiot’s Guide to Feng Shui, Wiccan amulets, The Kama Sutra, a menorah, a live goat, and a french translation of The Dead Sea Scrolls are scattered around the room. In the corner, a shrine to the Greek goddess Athena has been erected. We won’t even get into the depraved sexual acts to which we’ve submitted in order to fulfill some of the more obscure pagan rites. Desperate times, desperate measures.

We wish you all a Happy Election Day. Please vote for Barrack Obama. Heck, vote for him twice if you think you can get away with it. We’re note picky about the details, okay? Just get the job done.

Posted in politics | Tagged barrack obama, election day, fending off the rapture, our only hope, yes we can | Leave a comment

New Game

(link)

Posted in politics | Tagged a reason to wake up in the morning, hope, obama, poster | Leave a comment

We Are Really and Truly Fucked

THERE IS SOMETHING WRONG WITH A SOCIETY WHERE SOME PEOPLE ARE RICH ENOUGH TO USE OTHER PEOPLE’S BODIES AS FOOD PLATES.

Posted in observations | Tagged naked sushi, republicans, rich people, why we will all be damned to burn in an eternal fire | Leave a comment

Resistance Two

Good news from Super Secret Sunshine World Headquarters: We’ve gotten ahold of a Resistance 2 beta code. Sony has officially deemed us worthy. The bad news? We’re on level twelve of Dead Space and our mission has been put on indefinite hold. The fate of the whole fucking galaxy hangs in the balance, and we’ve moved onto a world under perpetual siege from alien conquistadors. This is no laughing matter.

I should preface this by admitting that I am not a huge fan of first person shooters*, although I have played quite a lot of them and enjoyed a select few immensely. If you were to rifle through my little black book of past hook-ups, you’d find the likes of Wolfenstein, Doom, Duke Nukem, Heretic, Quake, Pathways Into Darkness, Marathon, Unreal, Star Wars: Dark Forces, Rainbow Six, Ghost Recon, Return to Castle Wolfenstein, Half-Life, Counter-Strike, Halo, Call of Duty, Medal of Honor, Brothers in Arms, Far Cry, Battlefield: Bad Company, and, of course, Resistance: Fall of Man.

Look, I am not bragging. I mean, the list is embarrassing. Can you imagine what I could have accomplished with my life if I hadn’t devoted so many hours to completing missions that helped no one and bringing aid to people that never existed? You know, like, what if I’d actually gone outside my house and helped real people? Or devoted those hours to projects that would bring to fruition wonders the likes of which the world has never seen? I could have made a difference! I could have changed everything!

I am but a helpless sinner, awash in my own filth.

So, the first couple of hours playing the demo left me with an unpleasant aftertaste. I picked competitive play, of course, and it really is nothing special. I’ve seen it before. Many times before. Pick a gun, spawn, shoot, kill or die, repeat. I imagine it would really be something in a land where Halo or Call of Duty had failed to penetrate the public consciousness. But that place? It is a desolate wasteland overrun by giant, malevolent sandworms and ruled by a young, pouty Kyle MacLachlan.

Things changed a bit when cooperative play was selected. None of us expected much from it, our preconceived notions of what cooperative play means having tempered our enthusiasm. Lo, we were wrong.

Something new appears to be happening here, although I admit the possibility of it all having done before. I am not an encyclopedia. Nor do I do research. If I am unduly enthusiastic about things that have been done better elsewhere, you have my permission to laugh at me. I am only try to help, in my own meager way.

The beta only appears to have one cooperative level. But it’s not just a level from the single player game like one usually expects from cooperative play. Instead, the level has been designed as a series of pens. Like on a farm. And gates connect all of the various pens together, each pen connecting to multiple other pens. The sum effect being that each time the level is played, the experience is different. When the game loads, the server decides in which pen one’s party will begin the level and which series of pens will need to be conquered in order to beat it, keeping the experience fresh each time. Even better, there are enough pens so that they will not all be visited each play through.

To bolster the experience, three types of classes are available to the player: soldier, special ops and medic. Like Return to Castle Wolfenstein or Team Fortress, the idea is to foster cooperative play by creating a balanced, symbiotic relationship between the character classes. A soldier can deal a great deal of damage, but he must rely on special ops for ammunition. Special Ops will never run out of ammo, but has a better chance of survival standing behind a soldier’s energy shield. If either gets damaged, only a medic can heal them… sort of. It all kind of breaks down in practice, actually.

The first really fun match I played was as a soldier. Let me tell you, I shot those aliens fucking dead. It was great. I didn’t really know what I was doing at first, but what made it work was that someone playing special ops started following me around, fed me ammo, and stood behind my shield while carving aliens into little chunky bits. I needed his ammo, he needed my shield. It wouldn’t have worked if I had run around the level like an ungrateful jerk, but I intentionally moved slowly and tried to hold a position for as long as possible so that my shield would actually be of use to anyone who wanted to stand behind it. This gave him incentive to stick around.

After that experience, I tried special ops. What I learned? It’s hard to be a good soldier. I was really nice when I was a soldier. Most soldiers? Very selfish. They want your ammo but they don’t get that you have needs of your own. They hardly stand, making standing behind their shields nigh impossible. It’s a very one-sided, dysfunctional relationship. I didn’t enjoy the experience much, but I do now feel a lot more empathetic towards my ex-girlfriend. So there is that.

The problem, I think, is that soldiers don’t earn experience points for sharing their shields. I’m not sure how this could be measured, but doing so would really make it to the soldier’s advantage to, you know, cooperate.

Anyway, I then found myself in a game where everyone decided to be special ops. I don’t know if this was just because the server had randomly assigned them all to special ops and they didn’t know how to change their class, or if it was just the best way to be a lone wolf and essentially negate the whole point of cooperative play, but I decided to try medic.

Medics are weirdly powerful. Shooting aliens as a medic will restore hit points. Shooting teammates will restore their health. As a medic, friendly fire is impossible. The downside? There isn’t one. All of these activities will generate experience points for the player, making it easy to get through as the top player in the match. Medics may not do as much damage as a soldier, but they do enough. Combined with the ability for a medic to self-heal, it’s very easy for one to run around on the battlefield without the need to stick with the group.

Balance is obviously needed, but I could see cooperative play as the compelling feature of Resistance 2. I certainly have little interest in the competitive offerings, whose mechanics are so antiquated as to be infused with old man smell. I can see little reason for their inclusion, other than the fact that new shipments of fourteen-year-old boys seem to be deployed on an annual basis, fresh reinforcements ready to replace retiring, older models who have moved onto more sophisticated gaming fare less reliant upon repetition and reflex. You know, like Cooking Mama 2.

Posted in video games | Tagged beta, how the west was one, impressions, playstation 3, ps3, resistance 2, video games, what would john wayne do? | Leave a comment

The Photographer’s Lament

I looked deeply into her eyes and slowly lowered her onto the bed. Our lips met in a passionate kiss. “Oh, Boris!” She moaned. Our fingers fumbled with buttons and clasps as fabric yielded to warm, soft flesh. We held each other close, our naked bodies intertwined. “Boris, my love, I feel like I have known you my entire life. My body is yours!”

“Just a minute,” I said. “I want to capture this moment forever!” I disengaged myself from my bewildered lover’s embrace, arose from the bed and pulled the Polaroid camera from the nightstand. She smiled coyly, bit her lip and vamped for the lens. “You look beautiful. Wait, just hold that pose while I check the light.” I fumbled through my bag and retrieved my light meter. “Hmm. Let me open the curtains.” As I reached the window, I casually mentioned that the Polaroid was a vintage 1968 Land Camera with a 114mm lens and an electronic shutter. As I rattled off the specs, I decided that the night light streaming in from the window was a bit too harsh. I thought briefly about setting up a soft box but decided that it would be easier to just use a couple of a-clamps from my bag to quickly cover the window with a white sheet and defuse the light. I then moved all the dirty laundry away from the bed so I wouldn’t have to Photoshop it out of the photo later. Perfect. “All right, my love, let’s —”

Fuck. She was asleep.

Posted in incoherent ramblings | Tagged fiction, photography, story, why nerds never get laid | Leave a comment

Holy Shit, Batman!

(Paul Richmond via Newsarama)

Posted in politics | Tagged a can of worms, batman, biden, Catwoman, how far we have fallen, illustration, mccain, obama, painting, palin, penguin, robin | Leave a comment

Wassup 2008

Posted in politics | Tagged climate change, poverty, the many ways the Republican Party has fucked us in the ass, war, wassup 2008 | Leave a comment

I Was Just Thinking

So, the dinosaurs all died and their bones were buried under layers of sediment and eventually turned into oil. Then humans came along, pumped the oil out of the earth and turned it into an array of miracle products — like legos and mop handles — and then promptly reburied it all.

When the planet is over run by Mister Buffett’s army of super gorillas? What do you think their theory of evolution will look like? Because I’m thinking? Those mop handles are going to cause some problems.

Posted in observations | Tagged evolution, food for thought, super gorillas, why you are wrong and i am right | Leave a comment

Warren Buffett Is A Motherfucking Pimp

I always pause before I tear into a man who, while sipping his morning tea, could fucking raise an private army to fucking erase me from the goddamn planet. That’s why I’m going to refer to the man as Mister Buffett. I am nothing if not respectful. Just ask my dear Italian mother. She’s always saying wonderful things about me. Well, I think she is. I don’t speak Italian.

Mister Buffett has been getting some mad props from all over the internet this past week for taking some words and arranging them into phrases and sentences which became a column in the New York Times. The money shot was this:

A simple rule dictates my buying: Be fearful when others are greedy, and be greedy when others are fearful.

And, you know, in case you were not aware, Mister Buffett is rich. So he must know what he’s talking about right? If you want an economics lesson, don’t listen to the fucking economist who is sitting in a fucking crackerbox apartment that’s been outfitted by fucking Ikea — listen to the clever rich fucker who is snorting coke off the First Lady’s ass, you know?

(Not that Mister Buffett does that. I’m not saying that at all. I’m just, you know, saying he could. If he wanted to. The First Lady would probably enjoy it. Although, I’m not saying she would enjoy it. I don’t actually know her personally. This is just an opinion based on my knowledge of her and the man she picked as her husband. Not that I’m saying that they’re unfaithful to each other. I wouldn’t actually know that either. I mean, I heard something about The Dude’s father taking a mistress, but that doesn’t mean that the First Lady likes it when billionaires do lines of illegal narcotics off her butt cheeks at swingers parties. Not that I’m saying she even goes to swingers parties. She probably turns down the invitations. You know, if she’s even invited. I mean, not that billionaire swingers don’t want her at their parties — I’m sure they’d love to have her, you know what I’m saying? Oh God, there is an army of lawyers reading this right now looking for some way to destroy me, isn’t there?)

Anyway, Mister Buffet’s quote is the kind of thing that poor people love to celebrate. And let’s be clear, anyone who is not worth sixty-two billion dollars is poor, okay? The fifty-nine billion dollar man? A poor motherfucker. I mean, he’s behind by two billion dollars. The thief down the street will rob you for the buck seventy-five that’s in your wallet, okay? Lets keep this in perspective.

Except, here’s the thing. Mister Buffett’s article? It’s kind of like taking advice about poker from a professional gambler. In fact, it is taking advice from a professional gambler. Make no mistake: Mister Buffett is rich because he is lucky. He can give a thousand talks about his leet sk1llz, he can commission a million studies to demonstrate his economic prowess and businessmen around the globe can stroke themselves to a gentle climax while listening to Mister Buffett’s books on tape, but he’s still a lucky son-of-a-bitch.

Look, I’m not saying that hard work doesn’t pay off. It does. Except when it doesn’t. Because it sometimes doesn’t. In fact, considering that something like ninety percent of the nation’s wealth is held by only ten percent of the population, I would say that it doesn’t pay off most of the time. Unless you want to say that ninety percent of the nation is lazy. Because I wouldn’t say that. What I fear more than Mister Buffett and his genetically engineered army of super gorillas? Pissing off two hundred and twenty-five million people. That’s a bar fight I can’t win.

Monetary success on a micro level looks like an inevitable result of hard work and smart decisions, but if you look at the big picture the system clearly runs more like a fucking casino in the Nevada desert. And not the modern, family friendly kind with goddamn petting zoos and lunch buffets and Celine Dion, but the kind with cocktails and whores and Sammy Davis, Jr., you know what I’m saying? The kind where hitting blackjack one too many times in the casino is liable to get you hit by a blackjack one too many times in a back alley. The kind where… uh, that’s all I had, actually.

When Mister Buffett speaks, I’m not one to say that one should not listen to what Mister Buffett says. And I’m not saying that the sentences that Mister Buffett espouses couldn’t be considered, in some form, to be wise and practical. But fuck that. Wise and practical is not how the race is won. You will not become Warren Buffett by being wise and practical. Dropping the sixty-two dollars you have in your savings account into equities? That will become sixty-two billion dollars about the time that our sun dies and the earth is swallowed into an infinite blackness filled with terrible creatures arrayed with a multitude of tentacles that have been sent forth by the ancient gods that sit in judgement of mankind and found us wanting.

It just isn’t going to happen. Sorry to be a wet blanket. I love you anyway.

Posted in finance | Tagged how to become rich by doing nothing more than giving your money to someone else, income, mister buffett, outcome, the secret of success, we are a nation of fools | Leave a comment

Oh God, Yes!

Pepsi is re-branding itself. Finally. I’ve been harping about this for weeks. “Why hasn’t Pepsi re-branded itself?!” I’ve been saying. I mean, it’s like, come on. My vagina is getting wet just thinking about it.

It’s what we all need, am I right? We’re fucking fighting a “war” in Iraq. (Somehow, even though the Iraqi government supports us — I think it’s like punching your friend in the face after he high five’s you in the hall after math class because you think he’s been hitting on your girlfriend even though he’s actually secretly gay.) Our labor has been devalued. We’re in the midst of a presidential race that could doom the planet to a hostile take over by goddamn Sleestacks. The four horsemen, ladies and gentlemen, have their motherfucking boots in the motherfucking stirrups. But, you know, it’s all good — Pepsi is rebranding itself.

I feel so much better now.

It’s like an enema for my brain colon.

I drank too much last night.

Posted in incoherent ramblings | Tagged advertising, it only hurts at first, pepsi, you dropped your towel | Leave a comment

Week in Review

With about ten minutes to go, I figured I’d sit down and pound out a few words to bid farewell to the week. I don’t know about you, but I say: good riddance. So what if we’re all a week closer to our eventual and inevitable deaths? Pshaw, I say. The week sucked. What can you do?

I say you take it out back behind the barn and shoot it. It’s a mercy killing.

We here at Super Secret Sunshine were stuck in meetings all week and dealing with people is not really something of a specialty among the staff. Let’s just say that five minutes after the meeting started? Goddamn Steven Seagal would have thought twice about entering the room. A hazmat team was called to clean up the remains, but just how does one explain to ones wife how brain matter and bone fragments adhered to one’s suit? Diplomatically is an understatement. Let us say that a certain jeweler is going to be spending an extra week in Bora Bora this winter and leave it at that.

Deep breath, everyone. And there is goes. The week is done.

Shanti.

Posted in incoherent ramblings | Tagged committees are the work of the devil, week in review, why we hate meetings | Leave a comment

An Update

So, I don’t know, I feel like I let you down. I mentioned that I pre-ordered Dead Space, but I wasn’t actually able to get ahold of it today. So, here you are, thinking that I’m sitting at home playing the game when I’m actually not. Look, I want your internal fantasies regarding my current whereabouts and activities to be as accurate as possible — I’m not trying to mislead you, okay? I went to five stores today looking for the game but no one had it. It turns out? The “release date?” That’s the day the game ships, not the day the game goes on sale. Apparently, everyone knows this. Like, duh.

I am so embarrassed.

Posted in video games | Tagged dead space, pre-order, the savage and unforgiving judgement of your social superiors, video game | Leave a comment

You’re home!

Hey. How are you? I’ve missed you.

Work has been crazy.

How’s your day been? How was the meeting?

It’s really good to see you — you smell good.

Yeah, I know, it’s late. You’ve got to get to bed. Heck, I should try to get some sleep too.

I wish we had more time to spend together.

By the way, I’ve been fucking the dog.

Posted in incoherent ramblings | Tagged a good way to get on peta's list, intimacy, lies, secrets | Leave a comment

My Mind Cannot Handle So Much Joy

Wow, I really expected to hate these illustrations by Michael Fleming, but… they’re wonderful! (via Hicks)

Posted in art | Tagged a reason to live, abcs, illustrations, star wars | Leave a comment

Sowing The Seeds Of Love

So, The Atlantic, a magazine nobody actually reads, has been redesigned by Pentagram, a design firm nobody actually… something. I don’t know what, okay? We’ll deal with that later. I never was very good with analogies.

Anyway, Pentagram has an article up (more like a press release gussied up in a fancy dress) that shows off how thorough they were in doing the redesign before, you know, choosing to reuse the same nameplate the magazine had forty years ago. Sweet. Way to make dead tree pamphlets relevant again.

Look, whatever, I don’t really care. I still read a couple of stupid magazines myself, more for nostalgia than for practical purposes, but there you go. And anyone who wants to read The Atlantic? More power to them.

But here’s the deal.

By the end of the week, every fucking design blog is going to come out and gush about this redesign. And a lot of non-designers, sensing that they should like what they are looking at because Pentagram designed it, will join in the chorus. Two noble institutions will be lauded for their magnificent work. Nevermind that most of the praise is coming from people that I can almost guarantee do not actually read The Atlantic. Nevermind that no one is actually taking any time to digest the new look and think about it in context. Nevermind that most sites are just mentioning it because they are desperate to keep up their post count.

That’s right, post count. I said it. Look this article has been drastically rewritten from its initial posting. The first draft? Just kind of snarky. But that didn’t sit well with the crack editorial team here at Super Secret Sunshine. We had some meetings. Discussed it around the water cooler. The consensus? We’re okay with simply sharing content we see elsewhere if it helps us to continue to pick at whatever scab we’re working on at the moment, but what we realized was that this post wasn’t doing its job. It wasn’t doing anything. It was just leaving us satisfied and relieved to see our post count inch up another notch. Well, fuck that.

Look, we’ve only been at this a week, but we can see the dangers of this business. In order to build a readership, one has to post. If one state too many opinions, one will inevitably alienate readers. If one is too critical of the community, one will find their Google ranking stagnate from a lack of link support. That was the genius of the Associated Press, you know — they realized they could sell their stories into more newspapers if they just kept them politically neutral. That’s where the whole idea of journalistic objectivity started.

So there are advantages about being neutral. Or only posting about items that one feels positively about. That is, it’s not so much that one doesn’t like some things, but one just doesn’t mention them. Look at the blogs you read. Do you see much critical discourse? I mean, it’s mostly about how this thing over here is cool. Or that thing over there is beautiful. Or look at what that guy was able to balance on his nose. Oh, what a noble experiment, humanity!

Okay, so what Pentagram did wasn’t bad, I’ll agree to that. But I’m not willing to go any further. One, I don’t read the magazine, so I can’t really speak with any authority that what they are doing to it will enhance my reading experience. Two, I haven’t actually seen the magazine, so I can’t make a meaningful determination about how the redesign works in its intended medium. Three, the redesign just doesn’t look all that remarkable to me. I mean, it looks fine. But I don’t feel the earth trembling beneath my feet or anything. I’m not swooning.

So where is all the gushing going to come from? Well, first everyone will look at the design and acknowledge that it isn’t terrible. Then they will see that the design was done by Pentagram, so it will seem like a pretty safe bet that the redesign is actually good. Or, at least, that the people will deem it good. Then they will look at their post count quota for the day. Now, they can’t post about the redesign if they just think the redesign is okay or if they are withholding judgement — their readers would wonder why they posted at all. The point it to give special focus to things that deserve special focus, right? So, rather than taking the time to digest the redesign — perhaps to even pick up a copy of the goddamn magazine off the newsstand — they will post the news of The Atlantic’s glorious metamorphosis. This whole process will take about ten minutes.

And if popular dude at Site A likes the redesign, then popular dude at Site B will have less reason to think about whether they like the redesign before they post about it. Then less popular dudes at Site C, Site D, and Site E can jump in on the action and push up their post counts as well. Before you know it? The internet has turned into one big circle jerk. And it will happen fast, because if you talk about The Atlantic redesign next week, after you’ve had a chance to look at the actual magazine? You will be considered jurassic.

Posted in editorial | Tagged dangerous practices, magazine, please stop drooling on my sweater, post count, the atlantic, the web as a jello mold filled with prunes, things we never read | Leave a comment

Choose Hope Over Fear

Link

Posted in politics | Tagged a reminder that running from the devil isn't the same as running towards god, biden, obama, poster | Leave a comment

For The Record

Posted in video games | Tagged burnout paradise, cartoon, things i don't like, video games, why i am on blood pressure medication | Leave a comment

Addendum

In all seriousness, I am not actually a drunk. I do, of course, enjoy a nice pinot or cab and I’m not one to turn down a finger or two of expensive scotch (neat, of course — you never water down good scotch). But most of the posts here on Super Secret Sunshine were written while 100% sober and, I’m proud to say, I think that shows in their quality.

That is, they don’t all devolve in the second paragraph into me telling you how good you’re look tonight and asking if you’d like to come back to my place to break a few commandments. Then, after a wink and a nod, immediately throwing up on your shoes and laughing about it in your face — my sour, acidic breath leaving a thin, sticky film on your skin. You then starting to cry and running to the bathroom while I stagger out to the alley, falling asleep in a pile of garbage.

Anyway.

Look, this is a cruel and unjust world and I don’t blame anyone for escaping its horrors by means of chemical manipulation. More power to you, Mr. Spaceman. But I’ve attempted to read Naked Lunch, okay? It’s shit.

Posted in editorial | Tagged drinking, drunkenness, scotch, why i cry myself to sleep at night | Leave a comment

Today In Tokyo, Japan

Posted in observations | Tagged flickr, japan, photos, the world is a never ending tide that carries us ever onward into eternity, today, tokyo | Leave a comment

And Another Thing

Glass houses being what they are, I recommend listening to This American Life’s coverage of the monetary hurricane that is currently whipping its way across the globe. The Giant Pool of Money, an episode that was aired in May, ladies and gentlemen, breaks down the whole shit-astrophe into easily digested chucks of greasy, gooey, gelatinous information. It’s only an hour of your time. When your kids get to that awkward age where they realize how fucked up the world is that they will be inheriting from you? You can avoid the uncomfortable silences and tearful sobs of an actual face-to-face conversation by just twittering this url to them over your iPhone. If you think some levity is required to soften the message, “OMGWTFBBQ ;-)” is always good for a chuckle or two.

By the way, This American Life just put together a couple of sequels to The Giant Pool of Money, Another Frightening Show About the Economy and A Better Mouse Trap. I haven’t had a chance to listen to either of them yet as I have been hard at work building my underground survival shelter, so this isn’t actually a recommendation. But I plan to put them on after hitting publish on this post. Why not listen along with me? It’ll be like we’re listening together in the same room. It’s chilly in here. Let’s snuggle.

Posted in politics | Tagged financial crisis, has anyone ever noticed how Ira Glass and Alex Bloomberg sound exactly alike? what is up with that?, this american life | Leave a comment

Just Shut the Fuck Up for a Second

So, I’m listening to NPR tonight and, you know, they’re talking about the economy. There are a couple of analysts trying to pretend that they know what the fuck is going on when nobody seems to know what the fuck is going on and one of them says, in effect, that for all the finger wagging that’s been aimed at Wall Street and the Republican Party, that a lot of the blame for this mess has to go to the American people.

Well, yeah, if by that he means that the American people are responsible for electing all these idiots that have failed to protect their constituents from a completely avoidable worldwide financial butt-fucking. But, if by that he means that the average American should have known better than to get themselves locked into a shitty loan? Fuck you.

Look, I believe in personal responsibility. We should all do research and educate ourselves before making serious, life-changing decisions. We should consult with experts for help and advice. And, in the end, we shouldn’t knowingly get ourselves into a situation that we know will not only strip us of our home, but our life savings as well. I mean, who does that anyway? “Hmm. I clearly can’t afford this loan and there is no hope of ever paying it back. Aw, fuck it. Let’s do it anyway!” I just can’t picture that happening all that often.

But, you know, we don’t even offer our high school students a class in basic personal finance. How to balance a check book. How to set-up a budget. How to plan for retirement. The benefits of unmanaged mutual funds over managed funds. The power of compound interest and why it’s crucial to start an IRA early in life. How to use credit responsibly. Or, fuck, how to buy a goddamn house. I mean, we figured out how to talk to our children about puberty. You sit them down in the auditorium, turn out the lights, and show them some cartoon penises and vaginas and then send them home with a little booklet explaining why their armpits are smelly. A few years later you pelt them with condoms as they’re walking to math class and then, when they pick them up, you shame them for having sexual thoughts in the first place.

Okay, so maybe that isn’t the ideal metaphor. But, still — isn’t it funny that we’re still too embarrassed to even start a conversation with our children about money? And, no, sending them home with math homework about nickels and dimes and sales tax does not make for an adequate financial education.

I mean, fuck. Just yesterday I receive another one of those mailers from my credit card company that extolled the virtues of covering my debts with checks underwritten by my credit card. “Write a check now. Pay it off later.” Fucking awesome. If the basic message we’ve drilled into the average american is to spend money they don’t have so that they can enjoy a life they can’t afford, how can we then expect them to turn down a loan offer that will suck them into a financial abyss from which they will never ever emerge? Where is the guy running in slow motion, waving his arms above his head and shouting for them to duck and cover? What part of the home buying process is that? When they sit down with the mortgage broker? The real estate agent? The bank? Are you fucking kidding me?

You know what I really don’t get? How was it possible that all of these economists that the government employs to keep an eye on the country’s financial health didn’t know that this was going to happen? How was that possible? I knew it was going to happen. I talked to other people that knew it was going to happen. When everyone was going bat-shit over the housing market? It didn’t take a genius to see that what was happening wasn’t just a “market correction.” It was fucking crazy. People were selling fucking closets in fucking North Dakota for millions of dollars — it doesn’t take a genius to figure out that kind of demand just isn’t sustainable or healthy.

So now everyone is trying to figure out who to blame for this colossal fuck-up without actually addressing the central problem that caused this whole mess in the first place. This isn’t about unregulated housing mortgages. It isn’t about myopic economists. It isn’t even corrupt politicians or greedy CEOs. It’s about the long-term promotion of an unsustainable and unhealthy national credit policy. I mean, why isn’t anyone talking about how it’s wrong to base the economic health of a country on debt accrual? We lease our cars, we mortgage our homes, and we buy goods and services with plastic cards that are backed by nothing more than a promise. And we don’t do it for the benefit of our economy, but for the benefit of the rich.

The rich are the ones loaning out the money. If the rich put their money into a bank, the bank can then use the money to give out loans. If the rich put their money into a stock, the stock issuer can then use the money to increase their production capabilities. And then the rich get richer by demanding a vig on their loan, which gets passed all the way down the chain to you and me. I mean, that’s how it works.

Look, I’m not going to get into wealth redistribution. That’s not what I’m advocating. I’m just saying, we should be admitting, as a country, that the accumulation of debt is bad. We should start discussing how to create a sustainable, growing economy that doesn’t require people to purchase goods and services that they cannot afford. We should educate people about personal financial management. And we should regulate business so that financial schemes that rape the entire economy are no longer rewarded.

Because $700 billion dollars? Unless it’s going to be used as a suppository, that’s not really what I’d call a punishment.

Posted in politics | Tagged economics, fail, financial planning, money, mortgage crisis, the economy, the reason why my mattress is lumpy, the republican party | Leave a comment

A Pale Imitation of Greatness

Hmm. Just stumbled onto a neat little Flickr collection of Calvin and Hobbes drawings. Nothing mind-blowing, but fun. This one here was done by Jordan Crane.

Posted in art | Tagged a burning ember extinguished in the quiet darkness, calvin and hobbes, drawings, flickr, sketchbook | Leave a comment

Milton Glaser On Obama

Look, it’s Milton Glaser. He’s famous. And the poster is in support of Barack Obama, our last, best hope for peace and prosperity in these United States. Sweet.

Okay, yeah, so it’s not Glaser’s best effort, cut the man some slack. He’s old.

What? Why does the big “O” looks like a vinyl record? Uh, why do you ask? Because it references a technology that is no longer relevant in our modern society or because connecting Obama with sound recordings makes absolutely no sense in this context? Well, whatever… just ignore it.

Huh?

The hanging Bama? What’s that? Well, yeah… it doesn’t make much sense either. Well, it looks like he was trying to be clever with the “Oh!” part and just didn’t know what to do with the rest of the letters. But, come on. It’s Glaser. Just shut the fuck up already.

You can’t do that, can you?

You have to mention the quote, don’t you? The one from the anthropologist that’s been dead for over thirty years. No, I don’t know how that ties in with the giant vinyl record and Alabama reference. What? What did you just say?

You are such an asshole.

30 Reasons

Posted in politics | Tagged barack obama, future, milton glaser, poster, scraping the bottom of the barrel, you're not my real mother anyway | Leave a comment

Paul Pope Has A Dirty Mind

Famed comic book artist, Paul Pope, has created a new “toy” with the help of Playboy and Kid Robot. It’s made from vinyl, is about 7.5″ in length and, with a little lube, is probably perfect for anal insertion. But I think it’s supposed to sit on your shelf.

Other than helping to shore up Pope’s retirement fund, I’m not sure what to make of this. Why would I want this to sit on my shelf? I mean, I know that artists are in a pickle. I know that Pope would probably rather do other things with his time. And I know a man’s gotta eat. And I don’t really have a huge problem with the vinyl figure thing. I mean, fuck, if you want to invest your money in little plastic idols that you get to dust every few weeks, more power to you. But I don’t really see how this relates at all to Pope’s oeuvre.

There’s a rant here that I’ve been stewing on. Coming soon. I really just posted this for the boobies. And the chance to use the word oeuvre.

Posted in art | Tagged a man's gotta eat, anuses, boobies, kid robot, paul pope, playboy, the shallow space my soul once occupied, vinyl toy | Leave a comment