Tuesday, April 27, 2010

NEW MUSIC FROM NEW MINDS

Hey folks,

I know this is writing you're not used to since I'm being neither:

A) an asshole

B) pretentious

C) self-deprecating

HOWEVER, I am writing to give you a wonderful opportunity to check some music from my good man David Kleiser.

I'm not going to give you all the specs, however, I am going to give you a FREE DOWNLOAD!!!

Please get it here:


Enjoy!

Friday, August 7, 2009

To Whom It May Concern

It's been a grueling few months, but YOUR INTERNET-PROPHET HAS RETURNED!

Now, I know you've probably been lost and in need of guidance since my inter-disappearance, however I will now recount the long and arduous tale of my where-bout's.

Since the dawning of time, man has always yearned for a lesser man to clean up after him. Whether it be his leftover Chef Boyardee or the remnants of a Clingon death match with his wife, man has always been in need of someone to dispose of said things.

This summer, however, man's good fortune took a turn for the worse and I was one of those men.

For you see, dear reader, I am also a garbage-man, per se, because I clean up the social trash left by you, the reader.

This may confuse and offend you, but alas it is only for context in the tale I will tell.

One gorgeous afternoon, during the second week of my blogcation, I was in the midst of deep thought while peering over the shoulder of the shoulder of soon to be bewildered stranger. Before I commented that his fly was only 3/4 of the way up, I saw the the headline on his periodical read, "Garbage strike hits Toronto!"

I took tow paragraphs worth of time to read forth on what this meant for me, the voice of the people. When the man refused to take my advice on fly-re-adjustment he promptly stood up and left his seat before I could ask for his newspaper.

After that defeat, I decided to go home and go on facebook. Then I made a sandwich. Then I petted my cat. Then I had a cigarette. Then went to the bathroom(no further details). Then when I returned to facebook, I realized that I was being threatened by a few inter-chums to update my blog. Now I'm not pointing any fingers, JULIA HART, but this seemed a lot to me like what the garbage strikers and city workers were going through.

So at that moment I decided, STRIKE, and promptly joined the picket lines with my brothers and sisters of the industry.

Day 1: I went to nathan philips square in search of strikers whom I could join hands with and sing give peace a chance. Though there were some, they didn't want to sing and didn't understand why i was there. When I discussed my issues with the city and why my union, CUPE 011100010101001100110, should be allowed to join the strike I was promptly punched in the stomach and told to get a real job. I think it was leader Mark Spetzulanziebachekov who said to me, "We don't have time for this kid, we have real issues and you're clearly being an asshole." More offended then I have ever been, I replied, "Sir, the use of the royal WE is reserved for her majesty the Queen, and her only." Again, I was punched.

Day 2: After several reCUPEration soy-based beverages, I returned to the picket line but this time I had a better plan. I made a sign AND made a chant worthy of the others attention. My sign read, "More vacation pay for impoverished social critics!" My blood-curdling chant, "5, 12, 11, 49, we won't update until you acknowledge our sign!" was very successful in getting their attention (and also was a much better chant).

Day 3: I woke up in St. Michaels Hospital with several head wounds and a collapsed rectum(from another incident). Two days recovery ensued.

Day 6: After leaving the hospital, I knew I was still determined to get what I wanted, so I marched past the picket line (on stilts to avoid another lashing) and went to straight to the office of Mayor David Miller. Milly and I were old college roomates at Harvard, he practiced law and I took Ethno-Amnesial Sociological Quantum Physics. We had an on and off relationship for a while where he was in to me and I was in to women, but it all worked out in the end. Anyways, aside from our one-sided homo-erotic togetherness, we remained friends through crossing the border though he went in to office and I studied squirrels in the Tundra for many years. When I arrived at Milly's office, we did our traditional Harvard handshake, the north-eastern hand arrangement, we sat down for what was to be a pivotal talk in my bout to be acknowledged. I said to him, "Let's cut right down to the chase and rap for a minute big D, you know I'm not lying when I say that I have endured both physical and emotional abuse from those he-apes out there, but that they won't let me play with them." Milly-D took a long hard pause and said to me," T-squeezy,you know I get you up in dis business for realz." Another North-Eastern Hand Arrangement and without pausing, Milly-D-Squizzle enstated the Play Fair Act of 2009 which meant that I was allowed to piggy-back on the CUPE 416 strikers for my demands and they couldn't do anything about it.

Day 7: After screaming, "NYAH NYAH NA NA NYAH," to the strikers for several hours with out resting, I decided to take a personal day to recover and rehydrate.

Day 8: still recovering.

Day 9: religious holiday, Saint Nitendus of the 64th day.

Day 10:A bee stang me. I took revenge.

Day 11: Remembered that I was striking and returned to the picket lines.

Day 12: After befriending a large and rather curious looking woman named Surly Joe, I discovered that we only had to picket for 20 hours a week and that we were to be payed 10$/hr for it! "How fantrabulous!" I thought. Until I was informed by Surly Joe that only CUPE 416 members got that money, my elongated irish jig came to a crushing halt. It seems keg-meister Miller didn't include my union to be payed when he declared the Play Fair Act.

Day 13: I cried. A lot.

Day 14: I called my old war buddy, Stinky Fred, to come renegotiate the terms of the Play Fair act. I won, and was now getting double what the unions were and I got my own shiny whistle.

On day 15, I decided that for the time being I had won. I was now doubling in pay what those asshole union workers got and no one noticed whether or not I came to picket, so in that time I looked for a woman to bear me a son. During that 25-day journey in which I discovered the true facts about women (which will come in my next post, "The Truth about Vagina's: A Muted Monologue") my success in finding a worthy womb to bear a son in which I could be proud of and harvest his organs for furthering my research, failed. The amount of chocolate and daffodils used to swoon these unworthy trollops reminded me again of the strike, so it was back to the lines I went.

Day 40: Talks were almost finished and the strike was soon to close, so in lieu of that I decided to take out my rage on several of the workers who had hurt me during the beginning of the strike. Knowing that Hatori Hanzo's swords were not available in Canada( or anywhere else real) I decided to buy a set of Miracle Blades(the III addition) in which I received, all for the price of one set:

2 Miracle Blade Slicers
2 Rock n' Chops
2 Fillet and Boning knives
2 Chop n' scoops
2 Paring Knives
2 utility kitchen shears
8 steak and utility knives
AND
Chef Tony's Tips and secret recipes booklet!

ALL FOR THE PRICE OF ONE SET OF KNIVES!

Unfortunately, the excitement of receiving this package set me back another day because of a stroke related grievance.

Day 41: As I was using the Fillet knife on one of the CUPE leaders, a large mongolian horn sounded with the announcement that the strike had ended and we were to go back to work.

And after several murder charges were acquitted (thanks again to Stinky Fred)I was back on my computer typing the very story you read now.

I apologize to the families of the fallen who couldn't survive without my Blog, my condolences to your losses.

But to those who did survive your triangle-less drought, kudos! You truly are survivors and truly have the thirst for the knowledge of which only I know.

That is all,





Post-Script: Sorry, there is no post-script.

Monday, May 18, 2009

"and it;s all fair trade!"

Dear loud mouthed yuppies,

I've been listening to this tripe for far too long.

I live in the centre of yupieville Toronto and it's beginning to drive me insane.

I was walking on the danforth enjoying a nice crisp ale only to be bothered by someone yelling to their friends, "and it's all fair trade!"

I know that I may one day grow up to be what is considered a Young Urban Professional, or Yuppie, but in no fucking way will I be anything like these stereotype morons.

First of all, the FTO(fair trade org.) is a crock of shit. No one benefits from them, especially farmers, and no one ever will.

If you get the chance, please watch the documentary called Black Gold, a doc that follows the procedures of "fairly" traded coffee coming from Ethiopia, one of the "richest" coffee nations there is today.

And though I understand the want and need to declare everything as fairly traded, get your fucking head out of your own ass and realize that these words and others(like green, organic, and biodegradable) are just buzz words so that stupid consumers, like my yuppie chum on the danforth, will buy in to a more expensive and lucrative market ploy.

Second, if you are going to make these loud declarations, read in to it first before you state something you don't know. DO YOUR DAMNED RESEARCH. I mean for Christ's sake, you already blew your parents money on a university degree which you clearly do not deserve, but you had to do research for your paper's to back up a claim, so why not do it for this same reason?

It's common logic that even the stupidest of individuals can learn. If Joe the Plumber told you that a magic pill would make your penis the size of a watermelon, would you state that as truth?

OF COURSE NOT.

So why is it that everyone thinks that fair trade means it has been fairly traded without the supposed middle man to take away profits from the farmers?

DID YOU ASK THE FARMER IF IT WAS? ARE YOU A MEMBER OF THE FTO? DO YOU HAVE A MAGICAL TELEPATHY RAY SO YOU CAN PROVE THAT IT WAS FAIRLY TRADED?

It's not a fact and you can't prove it, so fuck off with your buzzwords and do your damned research you assholes.

Love,

Isosceles.

Tuesday, April 21, 2009

I know you've been waiting for it, shut up

Ya, ya, ya

I know you've all been waiting for me a) to write about it and b) to admit, so here it goes:

HIPSTERISM and all that is encompassed by said name:

Yes I dress like a hipster, yes I have many friends that can fall under that category, but what is crucial is that I explain a few things first.

First and foremost, even if you look in to urbandictionary.com and look up "Hipster" you will find almost 130 definitions of what that word means (streetwise). If you look it up on wikipedia.org you will find a few definitions, but the kicker is one will stand out first which many people do not take in to consideration:

"as used in the 1940s, referred to aficionados of jazz, in particular modern jazz, which became popular in the early 1940s. The hipster adopted the lifestyle of the jazz musician, including some or all of the following: manner of dress, slang terminology, use of cannabis and other drugs, relaxed attitude, sarcastic humor, self-imposed poverty, and relaxed sexual codes. Early hipsters were generally white youths adopting many of the ways of urban blacks of the time, but later hipsters often copied the early ones without knowing the origins of the culture."

Now what that means is that the modern "hipster" has done is copied that term and taken it on a shopping spree...most likely to AA, VV, or Urban Outfitters.

Back then defining a hipster involved one certain sub-culture so the term could be used derogatorily or complimentary. Now is far from that case because of this reason:

Hipsterism is now so diverse that pinning one sub-culture to it is nearly impossible. What started off initially (for the second time) was a small sub-culture in New York, that made moves to L.A., to Philly, to Chicago, to Vancouver, to Montreal, and finally Toronto, to name a few. The genre primarily consisted of post-80's Kraftwerk style techno and dressing like you were on SNL's Sprockets (as well as dancing and film taste). The genre was fairly pretentious with that kind of "you wouldn't know what I'm listening to" style attitude and wasn't all that fun anyways. Certain things started to grow within the culture like coke, guerilla and contemporary art forms, as well as odd record collections. There are plenty more things I can attribute to that genre, but what was stated will suffice, for now.

A funny thing happened when the term and the culture started growing, others were noticing and rather than forget their old habits and join the new, they integrated their old flames. This is what really spawned the outburst and sporadic movement of "Hipster" culture.

Anyone who was in to indie music, hip hop, rap, graffiti, art, clothing, film, some pop music, older music, older culture, almost anything really could share a part in this culture.

And of course what did that do to the ones that started it? Well they would start their own anti-hipster movement which in turn was even more Hipster than their spawn!

I read an article in Adbusters (ya, I know , shoot me) called "Hipster:The dead end of western civilization" which is a well written, well reasearched, almost insightful piece of writing except for one flaw: The guy who wrote it is a fucking anti-hipster super-hipster himself. He draws important points claiming that Hipsters are a culture destructive bunch who care for no one's but themselves which is sort of true. But if you read the article again, you notice that people and places he speaks of are more or less his own. The man, Doug Haddow, clearly knows the scene because it was once his and of course when it was discovered by those who weren't "invited" i.e. the new hipsters, he wasn't pleased because all of his old haunts became infested with these "low life scum." I implore you to please read the article yourselves to make your own because not only is the article pretentious, but the comments are even worse at the bottom. My favourite is still "Adbusters is the hipsters ground zero" which could be said for Vice, and for both is the absolute truth. This will be further recounted later.

Now, you ask, what is your problem with all of this kind sir?

My problem is that this massive melange of hatred, cynicism, irony, sarcasm, and downright stereotyping bullshit has done absolutely nothing to solve everyones fucking problem. So my answer is my problem is everyone elses problem with each other.

I will disregard the morons on the street who mistake me for an Emo kid because, come on let's face it, Emo kids deserve no sympathy be cause that's all they want. (Sidenote: if anyone would like to argue on this one, you've got shit on me cause I've dealt with way worse than you can imagine.)

However,(now being serious) being called a Hipster has now only become a derogatory comment and what's worse is the main perpetrators are the ones who started it all.

I've heard hipster scum, fake-hipster, hipster wanna-be, hipster fag, hipster whore, and the list goes on. These terms are mainly shelled out by the likes of people who fall in to any Hipster category. A good friend of mine, Mike, and I were at a show (mondo hipster central) and we were having a blast until this girl came up behind him and called him a fake-hipster wanna-be. Not to his face of course because hipsters have no place to say anything but behind your back or behind a computer screen. (I do understand that yes I am writing this on a computer but I will come clean and will say anything to ones face, in person, whenever need be, I just need the computer to collect thoughts and spare myself the hour it would take to recount this all to someone.) Anyways, Mike shrugged off this insult and we both turned around to see that the harlot who had deemed him "fake-hipster" was non-other than the queen of hipsters herself. I can't for the life of me remember her name, but go to Queen West any day of the week and I'm sure you'll find her snickering behind someone else's back or riding on a fixed gear Dutch free rider. Yes that was a potshot but only because I was so angry she would say this to a good friend of mine, behind is back.

And the problems don't even begin with complaining.

A much better, much more neutral, and much better written article called "The Hipster Must die" which includes other articles which actually go in depth to other problems, accounts some of the very things I talk about but with one crucial difference. Writer Christian Lorentzen makes an homage to our dear friend Jonathan Swift and makes a modest proposal on why and how the culture will end. Keep in mind though that the beast Lorentzen is dealing with is on a far larger scale than mine simply because he's writing for Time Out New York, so the hipster beasts he must deal with are far more vicious than mine. Lorentzen discusses, like me, the different kinds of Hipsters. He discusses the anti's, pro's, and the mid-section ones but he thinks their demise will come at the hands of each other, a Hipster war which will self implode leaving Value Village and Goodwill with more skinny jeans, leather jackets, and American Apparel hoodies then they can account for. This being said I think in that urban sprawl which is New York it could be possible that these people may decide on the self-destruct button for whatever reason, all be it coolness, pretension, or literally going out in fashion.

My proposal though is a lot more easy to succumb to: Acceptance.

It is starting to happen very slowly, but starting none the less. Other cultures are staring to accept who Hipsters(myself included)are and so are the Hipsters themselves. After almost a year of trying to convince my little sister, who for whatever reason was in such denial because she only knew Hipster as derogatory term finally admitted to me after much hounding "ok fine, whatever." I only hounded her because she would constantly scold me for going to electro shows and what not, so I thought, hey, why not blow the whistle on her.

Now before I continue, I must say this

I AM, IN NO WAYS, MAKING A DECLARATION FOR PEOPLE TO DANCE IN THE STREETS LIKE ROBOTS LISTENING TO JUSTICE SCREAMING "IT'S OK MOM, I'M A HIPSTER!"

If you think I intend on these thoughts, you are wrong Buster.

I mean acceptance from within the culture. Don't get huffy when someone shows up to your art gallery who doesn't work at an American Apparel. Be thankful that they accept your degree from OCAD as accountable, for the awful art which you are displaying and know that you're getting away with charging them!

This is only the beginning. I will continue my thoughts on my next post, for now though, read the articles and the critiques at the bottom.

http://www.adbusters.org/magazine/79/hipster.html



You'll realize after reading these articles and their critiques how bad this problem is becoming.

Save yourself.

Sunday, April 12, 2009

Scientology and me

So I like to research most things before I make any proclamations, but this is what know and I'll keep it brief.

There are few things I can really say about Scientology, but what I can say (and this can apply to most cults) is that there are three mentalities.

The first being the moron:

The moron will accept what the cult says in the initial meeting, no matter how outrageous, flawed, or even personal it may be. For example:

Cult member:"My god sir, you are depressed, more than any human should be."

Moron: "that's funny, many doctor's and psychiatrists have said that I'm fine, but I suppose that if you say I'm depressed, then by all means I should be. What should I do cult member who doesn't have any degrees, expertise, or good advice?"

CM: "Pay $1000 and you can be without pain for the rest of your life."

Moron: "How can I lose?"

DONE.

The second being the rational human:

Hard to believe, but I've met several people who just buy the books of L.R. Hubbard and do not donate to the church. This meaning that they do not have to sacrifice 10% of their income to the church of Scientology (which is true, the church shaves 10% off of your income, imagine Tom Cruise who's worth just under a billion dollars). What I have learned in these case's is that though L.Ron is completely superficial and as far from what could be conceived as a prophet(or profit, cough), not to mention the fact that what he did write is worse fiction the Ann Rand. L. Ron was a poor writer and had a less than normal relationship with many younger men, end of story.
BUT
What he did do, which is the salvation to the rational human, was to create writings which were beneficial to the self. He did write books which spoke of confidence, morality, and ways to live which, to the rational human being, may be good for the self.
And I have met people to prove it.
These people did not donate(or in the churches eyes, perform what is a necessity to be part of), but simply took simple lessons to making their lives better in the same sense that one would take what one rational human would from the bible.
Side note: the bible is another rant for another time, but to make it simple, there are moral lessons to be taken from it which any human can live by.

The Tree house Mentality:

The allure of the church can be compared simply to the mentality of a child, for those wanting to join and those encouraging. If you had the opportunity of ever experiencing a children's "club" then you'd know this mentality. Though this is an extreme example, it could be like a kid walking up to the tree, seeing the sign," boys or girls only club" then taking a stab at entering. They'd walk up, and the club members would say, "ok, you can only enter if we kick you in the balls as hard as we can, five times." The kid agrees. After the swelling has gone down, the kid will enter the club and notice there's an average section with only chairs, a section with toys, a section with toys and food, and a private section which one can only assume has food, toys, naked women, and your own private booth to talk with God one on one. The kid asks the ones who let him in how to move on from the average sitting section and move up the chain. They reply, "well first we'd have to kick you in the balls 50 times a day for one month, to the next section we'd have to cut them off, and to be in the private section you'd need to harvest the balls and female organs of all your family members."
This exaggeration is not too far from what they make you do in that wonderful church of scientology.

It has also come to my attention that there is another copycat scientology cult kicking around Toronto which is only increasing in size. So for the love of God(being me, of course) don't let any of your friends try to convince you that 'Landmarks" is a philosophical society, an institute of higher learning, or a righteous path to salvation.

I know the thought of anyone joining either of those cults is unimaginable or even funny, BUT THINK AGAIN.

It has even happened to me. I had a Landmarks member living in my home for 8 years and I didn't even fucking know it. The fucking scoundrel nearly ruined my family, nearly sent my mother to a psychiatry ward, and was also a terrible cook. He was a mix between the Moron and the Treehouse and that made him an incredibly fucked up person. He tried his hardest to be a good person but instead just continually ruined himself and everyone around him.

Finally remember this, the one person these cults prey on are people with low self-esteem and people who are depressed, exactly who the guy in my families life was when he joined.

So for fuck's sake, keep care of your family and friends and let's make sure no one ends up in one of these cults!

Friday, April 10, 2009

Pomosexual

Since I first heard the words 'Post Modern' uttered, I've yearned to know their meaning.
And thanks to the help of many wonderful people, I finally don't understand it.

I don't understand the poetry of E.E. Cummings.

I don't understand the writings of Thomas Pynchon.

I don't understand the art of wiping your ass with a canvas.

I just don't fucking get it.

Thursday, April 9, 2009

I'm not lazy, it needs to be said

I personally don't use one myself, and I don't have any friends who use them.

No offense but.....

PEOPLE WHO USE BLUE TOOTHS OR ANY OTHER KIND OF IN EAR PHONES ARE FUCKING DOUCHE BAGS

done.