Ed. note–Megan Ayers is a new blogger here at TCM. She has a filthy mouth. Welcome, Megan!
So with the complete idiocy involved battling the nincompoops that drive around this city, namely the I-75 passage through hell, I want to discuss the sheer genius that is I-74.
Yeah, I’ll admit it: those turds who merge at Colerain have no idea what they’re doing–putzing at a whopping rate of 40 mph and attempting halfheartedly to merge with their weak little blinkers signaling their distress as the rest of us roar past at 65mph–but once you get out of the clog and pass west with rapid fluidity, the road opens before you in a great unfettered expanse, daring you to pass the 70, 75, and even 80mph mark.
Let’s not forget the fact that I can travel from Cheviot, “the heart of the west side“, to my job in Clifton in mere minutes.
Tell me, does another highway in this city, aside from 471, get you from here to there with such precipitancy?
I heart you, I-74, and I’m sorry Cincinnati sees fit to put lights at your on-ramps because we’re such no-talent drivers that we’re incapable of merging…or driving in the snow, or rain, or wind, or if the sun is too bright, or road goes down hill, or up hill, or turns left or right, or, God forbid, we have to parallel park. Sigh…
It’s a two-sentence story about an online coupon code. Yep. I just can’t help thinking that the front page is, well, the wrong place for this. Seriously, on what planet is this actual news? To be sure, it has a place in various places at The Enquirer’s website and at the larger www.cincinnati.com–but surrounded by news of Ted Kennedy’s death, Procter & Gamble’s sale of some of its debt? Not so sure about that.
I really only have one reason for complaining about this: it makes The Enquirer’s website look silly. It really isn’t any more complicated than that. So, how about switching things up a bit? It can’t be that difficult to do, can it?
Every once in a while, TCM takes a look at manly stuff that happened in history. Which is to say, we steal a bunch of stuff from Wikipedia. At any rate, here’s what went down August 25 through the ages.
In 1768, James Cook began his first voyage. This voyage was intended to “record the transit of Venus across the sun.” I’m not entirely sure what that means, but I’m reasonably sure it’s got something to do with astronomy. Which means that he was given a crew by the British government, that they got on a boat, and that their aim was to LOOK AT THE SKY. Surely they had a couple other thingsto deal with, though.
I love broken English, Engrish, and all that stuff, and seeing it in newspapers only makes it funner.
Quick summary: wild shit here. A young woman (Pic full of do not want goodness here) got hauled in on a trespassing charge, and then cops found a bit of Aunt Hazel on her during a “routine strip search,” which tells me it couldn’t be found during the regular ol’ frisking while she was hanging out in someone’s hallway. Ewww.
It is well understood that the Internet is a conglomeration of information, data, tripe, and (for the most part) porn. I have often utilized this interactive tool to enhance my social life, research useful information, pass the idle hours at work while pretending to be productive, and to find material to which I may abuse myself in ways that may only be described appropriately as “Gitmo meets The Muppet Show.”
However, while perusing the vast sea of nonsense that is the “Free Stuff” section of Craigslist the other day, I had occasion to encounter this beautiful gem: a free ball of hair. I understand that most of you may summon certain parts of your most previously digested meal towards the back of your throat at the reference of adopting a greasy rat’s nest of body hair from origins unknown. This fearless, follicle-challenged, free-stuff fanatic knows a diamond in the rough when he sees it.
One could possibly negotiate a regular exchange from the purveyors of such an item, and quickly tap into a large market in the non-profit sector: merkins. For those that find the playing field to be relatively unseeded, the new business venture “Pubic Wigs for Cold Figs” or “Warm Thatch for Snatch” could extend a caring cuddly codpiece to those who find discomfort with their bare carpet.
All of these wonderful ideas swam through my head: a pod of dolphins leaping in sine waves towards selfless endeavors, hopeful to see the smiles on freshly bearded faces and clams who so desperately seek the comfort of that warm fuzzy familiarity. Yet in my excitement to respond, I was also cautiously optimistic in reviewing the site for any response that may trounce my dreams of helping these hairless hoohas.
Some cruel individual had jeopardized the entire operation by slathering this opulent offering with seditious social slander! For shame, Anonymous Craigslister, for shame! Had the initial offering of this free hairball been removed from posting? Would the author of said post take heed, and relinquish this rarity to the receptacle? Surely not, dear reader, for there still remain bastions of hope in the sea of information out there, and this gallant knight still held high the razor blade of justice.
Knowing my path had already been chosen long before I found this fur, I have contacted the poster about the hairball I wish to possess, and sadly, I have yet to receive a response. Still, I would like to take a step back to address a few things that have clearly evidenced themselves through this escapade:
Don’t look gift hair in the balls. If somebody posts free hair for the lucky taker on the internet, then who gives a fuck why they did it. You are not the Grand Poobah of the Internet, there is no fucking curtain behind which you reside, and I am not your fucking mother. Such a thing should not even need to be mentioned – the internet is full of screwy crap from interracial bisexual donkey on furry clown porn, to people writing about free hairballs on Craigslist. Don’t be a douche, and don’t ruin other people’s fun just because you have no sense of humor.
If you do choose to post silly shit on the internet (a la: Free Hairball) at least give me more selling points. I’m not a difficult customer, but had I not had the foresight to see this opportunity for what it could be, this poster would be stuck with no ball takers (of the hairy persuasion.) What color hair? Is the hair curly or straight? Is it long enough to braid? Would you be offended if I post said hairball on the internet? Variety being the spice of life, selling the spice involves description of this variety of hair clumped into a matted ball.
If you would like a merkin, an Abraham Lincoln Beard, or random hair extensions, please feel free to contact someone else or search the internet. I am not your personal pube stylist.
So if you’re looking to promote synergy at work by screwing around on the internet, pass the time when you’re bored, or actually take crap off of other people’s hands – check out the free section of Craigslist.org and prepare to be amazed. As for me, I hope I will be the proud owner of a brand new hairball by the end of the week.
Congress shall make no law respecting an establishment of religion, or prohibiting the free exercise thereof; or abridging the freedom of speech, or of the press; or the right of the people peaceably to assemble, and to petition the Government for a redress of grievances.
Okay. Fairly self-explanatory, right?
The real solution is this: stop being a prick.
Wilkinson juxtaposes this Norman Rockwell painting with this Enquirer photo, sadly admitting “That’s the reality,” while seeming to ignore the fact that nothing in America has ever looked like a Norman Rockwell painting, no matter how much we’ve wanted it to. Sometimes we remember our lives as looking like a Rockwell, even though it didn’t; that’s what makes Rockwell paintings so awesome. They sum up how we feel about what our lives should be like without showing us the actuality of it.
The story goes on:
That’s the picture that has been repeated over and over again in town hall meetings around the country[.]
Of course it has been, and there’s a really good reason for that. I didn’t really look at the comments on the story (didn’t feel like clicking through, ironically enough), so it’s possible that someone’s made the same point that I’m about to: people are fucking assholes, period. This is something that the architects of our country either didn’t account for or ignored, because, dude, they’re pretty much everywhere and have been forever.
They’re assholes in real life. They’re bigger assholes on the Internet. In fact, I wouldn’t be surprised to find out that there’s a “lost” Dr. Seuss book detailing all the places you’ll find assholes in this world.
Anyhow, Wilkinson’s story goes on to detail the ins and outs of apparently recent uncivil uses of the First Amendment (again, as if this is new) and groups that are undertaking the task of eliminating such occurences. To be sure, such shows of ignorance make specific groups look pretty stupid overall, but I’m not convinced that they’re such a new thing. Is it possible that the “news all the time” culture we’re living in is just documenting these a little bit more completely, so that they’re more visible?
The real solution is this: stop being a prick.
In the end, this story seems to have amounted to not much more than a grumblefest, the newspaper equivalent to a group of old men sitting at a diner table complaining about how the country’s “going down the tubes.” Of course, according to countless old dudes, the US has been going down the shitter for decades and it’s certainly not their fault. Again, people are fucking assholes, and there’s not too much you can do to stop that. It’d probably be more worthwhile to try to build an economy around assholery. At least then we’d be closer to fixing the housing market.
