Itty Bitty Living Space

You know who needs to chill the hell out? Genies. Well, actually wish-granters of all kinds. Fairies, Magic Amulets, Witches, Elves, Wells, Magic Shells, whatever. It's like all they want to do with their limitless power is provide you with a perspective that makes you appreciate your life as it is. They eerily warn you in their breathy, condescending voice that you should "be careful what you wish for." But guess what, it's not a warning. It's a message that they are obsessed with.

Off the top of my head, I can think of like 734 stories about people getting schooled by the old Wish Switcheroo (five times fast. Go.) Homer gets repeatedly screwed by a cursed monkey's paw in Treehouse of Horror II. In the X-Files episode Je Souhaite, Moulder matches wits with a nitpicky genie who fucks people over with cruel irony when their wishes aren't specific enough. In the Buffy episode The Wish, Cordelia confides in a new girl at school--who happens to be an evil granter of vengeful wishes--that she'd rather Buffy had never come to Sunnydale. Through cunning amulet use, the wish is granted, thus destroying the balance of good and evil and plunging Sunnydale into a dark alternate reality where vampires run shit. Plus side: Willow is a vampire in this reality and she totally bites Cordelia. Nice.


See? These jerks never had the slightest intention of making anyone's dreams come true. All they care about is pounding this stupid message into their victims brains. It shows a complete lack of faith on the genie's part. They're all, "You don't even know what sort of power your dealing with, do you? Here, I'll pretend to grant your wish, but really I'll just set you up for disaster so that later you'll realize what a fool you were to tinker with the delicate flow of time and the fragile frame of reality." FUCK YOU. I just want to be able to set things on fire with my mind. It's that simple. Make it happen.

Side note: If I were Johnny Storm, I'd walk around with chocolate bars, marshmallows, and graham crackers all the time (especially in the winter). Whenever I saw a cute group of girls hanging out, I'd walk up and be like, "Excuse me, do you guys like s'mores?" If they say "No" or "What?" or "Please leave, creep." I'd be like, "You're killing me, Smalls." But if they go, "Yea." I'd toss them the ingredients and be all, "Flame on." BEST PICKUP SCENARIO EVER.

Long story short (too late?), be careful if you ever run into a genie, guys. Chances are they just want to teach you a valuable lesson that you'll forget in a month or two. Word things carefully and never forget to say "please" and "thank you." Genies are huge on manners and they'll pull your card for less.

When "It" Simply Will Not Do.

Hey, guys. You are "guys" right? Of course you are, because I use "guys" as a sexually homogeneous collective noun. I use it all the time. I mean, I probably wouldn't use it for a group of really hot girls (that's when I whip out my "Check out that skulk of superfine foxes." type vocabulary. [Animal group names are hilarious and fun to use. Learn them.])

But, quirky words aside, let's be serious: sometimes it's hard to tell just what sort of junk a person has stashed in his?/her? trunk. And I'm not even talking about the Pat-esque amorphous humans you see on the street. These days, there are actually attractive people who make you scratch your head. Ask any 15 year-old girl. They're all dying to get their smooch on with a JoBro or a Beiber (who I am fairly certain is--indeed--a woman.) And it's not just the effeminate boy that turns the tables, there are a few female sex symbols that would make Macho Man Randy Savage seem dainty. Lady Gaga is an intriguing specimen. She's like Tank Girl come to life with sweet pipes. Hot. Suicide Girls have taken the place of the docile bombshell pinup girl with a very scruffy look and a tomboy attitude. Things are getting interesting; that's all I'm saying.

Ok, this isn't anything new. We've all seen Some Like It Hot, Tootsie, and Mrs. Doubtfire. We've listened to Lola and King For A Day. We like blurring the lines and playing dress-up every now and again. It doesn't have to be gay--not that there's anything wrong with that. We've come to terms with these tendencies as a modern, ultra-connected society and now it's only the really weird stuff that offends anyone. So before we completely break down the walls of sexism and gender identification, let's take a look back at a few cartoon characters that always confused the hell out of me.

Samus Aran


Samus is kind of like the impossible daughter of Boba Fett and Mega Man. If that makes any sense...wait, no it doesn't. BECAUSE SHE'S A GIRL. Now you know how millions of kids felt after blasting through wave after wave of deadly alien forces, cold capping Metroids like it was their job. You save the universe and wait for Samus to remove his helmet just so he can take a refreshing swig of cold beer. Guess what? Samus strips down and you get a load of this smoldering sexpot.


What is she going to take a celebratory swig of? Arbor Mist? Fuck that. AUUUUGH. All this time, I've been playing as a girl? But he was so cool. Did you see that armor? I should go shower: I probably have like a stage 4 cootie infection right now!

Alright, calm down. Maybe girls don't have to dress to kill. Maybe they can roll up into little balls and set timed mines and stuff. Well played, Samus, you dangerous, sexy orphan, you.

Link


Voted "Hottest Video Game Character" by the gay/lesbian magazine Out, Link is certainly known as an all-around cutey. Straight, gay, man, woman: you have to admit Link is a sexy beast. I remember playing Ocarina of Time as an impressionable young boy and constantly referring to Link as "Zelda." I'm pretty sure I knew that this was a girl's name and I'm pretty sure I knew that you were supposed to give the hero of Hyrule a name of your choosing (I remember laughing every time I'd hang out with my brother and the great Deku tree would be like "Lumpy, do you accept the quest? You must be brave. Go fight Ganon. Save us, Lumpy.") And I'm pretty sure I knew Link was a boy. But none of that stopped me; it was just second nature to refer to such a confusing character without using "he" or "she." Zelda was the name of the game (quite literally) and it seemed to fit fine.

And, dude. Let's be real. You put Zelda and Link side-by-side, take away her crown and his sword...they're pretty much the same character. He's just a beautiful badass. Nothing wrong with that. Props, you weirdo little elf guy.


Nermal



If Nermal is a boy why does he have such nice eyelashes? And why is he so cute? And peppy? Ok, granted, he is a kitten. But still, it seems much stranger when he can talk (can Garfield talk? It's more like telepathy, right? Whatever.)

All of his tendencies and his overexcited, bubbly personality lead the reader to assume that he is an adorable little girl cat. It probably wouldn't have blown my mind to learn the truth were he not so catty (pardon my idiot pun) about Garfield's age and weight. He's constantly flaunting his rad kitten body and busting Garfield's balls like some 17 year old cheerleader hussy. But yea, maybe my misguided assumption is just a mark of my own sexist beliefs. You've taught us all a valuable lesson, Nermal. Also, would it be gay if I petted you? Ok, cool. Nevermind.

The End.

This Awesome Blog

Because I know Dan loves it when I right super short entries on this blog I will make this brief. Can we all give Daniel a round of applause for the picture at the top of this page! I had no idea Dan was taking that picture, and I doubt Andrew did either but it is an absolutely perfect picture for this. The only thing missing (thus making it not perfect and making me a liar, which I'm fine with) is Dan also not paying attention to the camera or any of the people in the pic.

Hip Kids Make The World A Better Place

Hey, guys. Do you know what the truest form of art is? It is the anonymous contribution of original creation meant to entertain or stimulate the general public. You have to realize that there are people who see the potential in free space. They have the skill and the confidence to selflessly express their inspiration and provide perspective to an otherwise minimally dimensional reality. I do believe that this is the most honorable and genuine reason that art exists. Some of us just want the world to be sweet as hell and they make it so because they can.

Please don't think that I'm saying that writers, musicians, photographers, and painters shouldn't be paid for what they do. On the contrary: it is of the utmost importance that a society recognize and support key sources of cultural development and respect the worth of intellectual property. But ultimately, the true value of a work of art cannot be gauged by its price. I remember walking through a thrift store, pointing out a particularly atrocious painting and remarking, "Dude, this looks like something somebody would buy in a gallery in SoHo for like $13 million." It was that bad.

But, I'm not here to hate on modern expressionism (which I'm sure I don't understand.) And granted, I don't know the first thing about fine art. But, I do know, like, up to the seventh thing about street/amateur art. Call me a hoodlum, a street rat, a diamond in the rough--if you must--but, I respect the motives behind such impermanent productions more than the meticulous precision of any well-preserved masterpiece you could find in a showroom or an exhibit. I'm a simple dude with a taste for the ephemeral. I like my art to hide in weird places, to highlight the unique, to jazz up the mundane, and to serve as a fleeting reminder that life is a wacky thing.

Today, I tip my hat to the pure-hearted artists who pick interesting mediums and don't give a damn what critics say. They are brave and innovative; they are many. Isn't it nice to know they're just like you (only cooler)?

First, a bit of clever, helpful interactive art. Think about feeling lost or disoriented. Now, think about being hustled and bustled out of a sweaty subway by a heartless mob of New Yorkers. Now, smash those two feelings together. NOW QUICK, think of seeing an awesome piece of art that tells you exactly what direction you're facing and perfectly reacclimates you to the world of London Above (and by "London" I, of course, mean "New York.") How do you feel? Probably as thankful and psyched for life as the lucky people who spy these little compass roses outside popular NYC subway stops.



That's right. Some kind kid with a can of spray paint and a soft spot for Pi has been helping direct subway-goers as they venture topside. I first heard about this from The Daily What and it seems to have become quite the big deal. The compasses all seem to be oriented correctly and are a snazzy, welcome addition to the otherwise lame sidewalks of NYC. Whoever you are, keep up the fine work.

Secondly, this adorable nonsense. I've seen it around Philly and a friend of mine has observed similar events in New York. Somebody (or something) is a master knitter and is swaddling local bikes and bike racks with custom fit sweaters. Yea, that's right. Look.






Who does that? Somebody that doesn't want those poor bicycles to freeze to death, that's who. Thanks, sir. P.S. That tree monster is the cutest yarn monster I've ever even seen.

Thirdly, children, check out these dogs. Somebody perfectly captured the "Yea, I'm gonna pee on this." attitude of a dog in paper mache and hid it in the tunnel under the Art Museum. Naturally, I slink through that tunnel whenever I can. I was so happy to find this scruffy guy and his little friend.




They're both gone now. The little one was stolen about a week after I found them and the big one disappeared soon after that. Like I said, good art doesn't stick around.

And finally, I wanted to mention this cool webcomic. This is slightly off topic and more authored than the other random pieces I've stumbled onto. But, I still feel that these guys are jotting down comic gold and sending it out into the internet for free. They seem to operate with the same open, sharing mindset. Also, the comics are hilarious. It's Left-Handed Toons. A ton of the comics make me go "YEA!" for a variety of reasons. There's even a bizarro side to the site (which you can find if you're very clever--like me.) But yea, check it out, hit random a few times. They're funny.


Ok, I drank a ton of coffee this morning and I didn't know when to stop writing. That's what that was about. Whatever, sue me. Bye, guys.

Christian Support Group

OK, if you chose to be all religious and stuff, I'm totally cool with that, I'm not into it, but you go ahead and do whatever the hell you want. However, if you've been raised all your life to be religious, had religion forced on you, that's fucked up. A small brainwashed child approached me the other day and offered me a free cross, it was very awkward to say the least, but the kid was like 10 and already trying to "help" people. Children born into (especially but not solely) hardcore Christianity have it rough, because they didn't choose to believe that, but once they are told fire and damnation awaits them if they don't believe it they're not really gonna stop. I want to start a support group that takes kids who never had a chance to choose heathenism and show them that there is more to life than praising invisible sky people. An open forum where heathens and Christians can come together and us heathens can tell those Jesus freaks that there are so many more options, and that they should be able to choose for themselves whether they want to believe in eternal damnation or not.

Warning: Contents May Be Extremely Cool

I've been thinking about advertising recently. In a culture of cut-throat consumerism, it's a snap to read the pulse of a target audience. Just dissect any ad designed to manipulate that particular group. Look at any beer commercial and you can glean that single males aged 20-35 are typically homophobic misogynists. (You don't drink Miller Lite? What are you, a gay? Do you drink mixed drinks like a girl?) Watch a spot about disinfectants; mothers age 28-40: overprotective germophobes. (You don't use Lysol? Good luck letting your children die of disease, you heartless wench.) Check out Cialis and Viagra commericals; married couples age 50-65: gross. (Take this pill, get naked, and hop into these side-by-side bath tubs. You two aren't wrinkly enough yet.)

But all pruney, naked old people aside, advertising is serious business. Gone are the days of honest companies and straightforward promises of a better life with their products. Earnest offers gave way to cheap jingles. Ad campaigns stopped trying to sell actual goods and services and starting pushing brand names. These days? I don't even know half the names of business behind the campaigns I see. If you pause and think about it: commercials today don't make any fucking sense. Why is there a Mancunian gecko selling car insurance? Why are there vikings getting double airline miles through use of a certain credit card? Who the hell are these weirdo Indian guys that are telling me to "get the cellular mongoose?"

Advertising companies have started operating with a strategy based on the worst-kept secret in the business: bizarre sells. Freak people out enough and they'll buy your merchandise. I have no respect for these campaigns that are simply strange. I feel like it's lazy. The company expects you to be struck by the absurd ad and then tell your friends about how weird that [Company Name] commercial was--thus getting a foothold in the public consciousness. Viral advertising can be clever and entertaining, but it has to be done right.

I'm sorry for dwelling on annoying ads for so long. The reason I started this post in the first place was to let you in on two ad campaigns that I find effective, clever, and extremely fantastic. First is Chex Quest.


Remember this thing? Good GOD this game was so amazing. I just downloaded it again yesterday. (You can do the same here: now updated for 32-bit with better graphics!) The game is basically Doom. But instead of using a sinew-slicing chainsaw to destroy demonic aliens, you play as the Chex Warrior using an automatic spork to destroy family-friendly slime monsters. The game was awesome. Best part is: I got it from a freaking box of cereal.. That's right. Chex and AOL printed up a few "Chex quest with 50 Free Hours of America Online 3.0" CD's and stuffed them into boxes as a prize.

This may have been the most effective instance of childhood advertising I can remember. All I wanted to do for like 3 months was eat Chex and play this game. According to the Wiki page, Chex Quest won all sorts of awards for advertising and practically doubled Chex's sales for a quarter or two. Sagacious maneuvers, Chex.

Next up: Wawa Hoagiefest.


Yea man, groove on the tunes in that hoagiebus. Wawa had Philly bumping like a bouillabaisse the entire week before the Fourth of July. Last Tuesday, they showed Grease (sing-along version) in Love Park and handed out iced tea and water. Wednesday, they gave out like 14 trillion Italian Shorti's at the Art Museum before they screened Rocky. And of course they were on hand at the Goo Goo Dolls concert on Independence Day itself. (They kind of sponsored it.)

But besides all the sweet free food and drinks, I can get behind Wawa because the music and art of Hoagiefest is baller. It's very Beatles (Captain Hoagie's Shorti Brigade is basically Sgt. Pepper's Lonely Hearts Club Band). The posters are all very psychedelic and Parry Gripp writes all the delicious jingles. If you don't know who Parry Gripp is, let me show you something. He is the guru behind such masterpieces as Shopping Penguin.



Wawa Hoagiefest is just really goofy and scrumptious. The tunes are mesmerizing, the Hoagieman is a champion, the sandwiches are cheap and tasty. It's a genius marketing technique.

Ok, see ya.

Wisdom of The Foolish, Drunken Elders

Hey, guys. So, I was hanging out with my dad the other day. We were down the shore, and though we spent most of the weekend talking about coastal realty (*fascinating* stuff, believe me), we also took some time to discuss the world at large. We talked about the nature of man, his role in the universe, and the price of tea in places where tea is bought and sold. It was a learning experience.

I always like conversing with members of my family. We are a small group of highly opinionated weirdos. Problem is: we do not so much "converse" with each other as we do "yell like lunatics." We are a headstrong, impatient people. When there is a point to be made, it will be made. If one shows the slightest sign of hesitation, he will be cut off, talked over, or banished entirely. It is for this reason I speak like a coked-up auctioneer. As the youngest, I couldn't attain the volume necessary to command precedence in a discussion: speed was key. I had to get in and out before my dad or my sister knew what hit them. So yea, my speech patterns grew as a sort of tactical retaliation to the barrage from their side. For the most part, I was just listening in. I would mainly talk while other people paused to inhale. Oxygen intake was also key in my guerrilla oratories.

But, I don't mind. I learned a lot from my family. I never had much to say anyway. Such was the case last weekend. As I hung out on the beach with my father, it was kind of fun to listen to him hating on all the inked-up, tattoo lovers running around. He was thoroughly disgusted. And though I couldn't really agree with him, it was interesting to try to understand his point of view. We talked about why someone would ever get a tattoo. We talked about the played-out tattoos (Chinese symbols, barbed wire, hearts, stars, horseshoes). We argued about personal expression and self-respect. We discussed what such behavior says about our society. It was weird. Talking about such a dumb thing led into such strange territory.

At one point, I mentioned Foursquare. My dad said that he had heard of it. He was like, "Yeah, the thing they say is it's making it easier for criminals to know where you are. They just check your Foursquare or whatever they do and see you're in the mountains for a week and decide to break in to your home in the city." I was like "That's retarded." Then we got on this whole thing about the pros and cons of technology and the ultimate destruction of privacy. I claimed that such activity was just a new breed of the same old tricks. People are always going to be sleazy thieves, you can't live your life in fear. My dad argued that fear and reasonable concern are two different things. One should take into account the dangers of such social networking tools and use them wisely. I said that was dumb and I didn't own anything worth stealing anyway, so fuck those criminals.

He accepted my point and reminded me of something his mother used to say. My dad told me that whenever his parents went out and his mom forgot to lock the door, his dad would make a big thing about it. They'd get back and his dad would be all, "I told you to lock it on the way out! What if some one broke in?" and my grandmother would say, "[Chill daddy-o]. If someone broke in here, all they'd get is practice."

Which reminded me of the most important thing my father ever told me. One day he looked me dead in the eye and said, "Son, never fight an ugly man. He has nothing to lose." I always liked that nugget of wisdom, and it's probably the only reason I've never fought a lot of the hideous bastards I've known.

The End.