State Of The T.V. Address

To all of my beloved fellow Americans,

My T.V. isn't working. Now I know a lot of you are thinking that there are much bigger issues out there that are way more important than Scrap Heap's T.V. reception such as poverty, disease, pollution, war and the like. Look, I'm not asking you to cry for me, Argentina (as for the rest of the world, I'm awaiting 'Get Well Soon' cards), but for all I know, these things aren't even problems anymore because my T.V. isn't telling me that they are.

Let me lay it all out for you.

Over the past week, I moved into a brand new building. It's maybe several months old. Prior to move in, our property manager provided us with a list of contacts to call to arrange for services to be hooked up (electricity, water, phone lines, cable TV, internet). Everything was a-ok until I got to the last number on the list: Comcast. The sales representative at Comcast informed me that it would be several weeks before technicians actually ran the cable lines to the building despite no obstacles or barricades preventing them from doing so (Now that's fucking Comcastic!). The prospect of no T.V. and no internet for several weeks was a bleak one at best, so I gathered my thoughts and headed out to RadioShack to purchase an old-fashioned T.V. antenna. I figured at least I could get the network T.V. stations. I asked the RadioShack employee to point me to the antennas and he promptly tries to sell me knock-off iPod accessories and Sprint cell phones. I had to drop a koan on his ass to distract him ("How many RadioShack employees does it take to sell you a battery?") and I was soon on my way with a VHF/UHF antenna. Despite technological advances in practically every facet of life over the past twenty years, T.V. antennas have apparently devolved. You still have the 'rabbit ears' for the UHF signal and the extendable antennas for the VHF signal that can be wildly splayed in any direction like the legs of a $50 prostitute. The problem is that these things just don't work anymore.

I can now watch about 4 channels (3 in English) in excruciating LFD (Low Fucking Definition) TV. Remember the blurred porn that used to come on after midnight on Channel 95? That shit's like '1080p' to me right now. The only station that comes in clear is "The New CW". Alarmingly, its entire daytime lineup consists of courtroom dramas. I'm not talking Law & Order, I'm talking Judge Maria Lopez, Judge Mathis, and the People's Court among others. I never thought I'd say it, but I miss Ed Koch ruling his fake courtroom with an iron fist. Even the bailiffs don't have their hearts in it. I used to know 'The New CW's" primetime lineup, but I gave myself a home lobotomy to get rid of the memory.

This whole ordeal has learned me good. While I love to bash pop culture, I realize I cannot live without it. I yearn for it. I need it. I lust for it. Without access to pop culture, I lose my grip on reality. How am I supposed to know what musical instrument Volkswagon is giving away with their cars? How can I make fun of celebrities if I don't even know what they're up to? <Gasp> How am I supposed to watch 'Lost'?

So until motherfuckin' Comcast releases me from this prison,
Fuck All Y'all Dipshits!
I hate everything!

The Boys Scouts of America: Turning Your Kids Into Narcs Since 1916

This past Friday, the Motion Picture Association of America (MPAA) announced a strange alliance with the Boy Scouts of America. The Boy Scouts, already a haven for pasty goodie-two-shoes and future homophobic Republicans, have agreed to incorporate an MPAA-approved curriculum for their Los Angeles-area troops. The important life-lesson the movie industry desperately wants to impart to the young, impressionable middle managers of tomorrow: Respecting Copyrights and Intellectual Property.

That’s right, friends. The MPAA hopes to stem the tide of illegal bootlegging and downloading of movies and music by teaching Boy Scouts—fucking Boy Scouts—that it’s important for everybody to pay eleven dollars to see Ray Romano do the voice of an animated donkey.

The bestbestbest part, though, is that the lucky LA-based troopers will be able to earn a “Respect Copyrights” patch for performing MPAA-approved activities including, but not limited to, “creating a public service announcement that demonstrates the importance of copyright protection or visiting a movie studio to learn about the people, time and costs required to make a movie.” Wha...?

I can’t think of any joke that could make this seem more ridiculous. Although it’s a real treat to imagine Troop 412 from Culver City touring the Paramount lot, all wide-eyed and giddy, hoping to meet Spider-Man. But instead, they get some dude in a suit saying, “Hi, guys! Let’s meet some of the people who work behind the scenes! This scruffy fat guy over here is Bernie. He’s a producer. Now, if you illegally download Pirates of the Caribbean instead of paying the full suggested retail price, then Bernie won’t be able to afford the incredible amount of cocaine he enjoys snorting off his under-aged girlfriend’s enormous, fake rack. You wouldn’t want to do that to Bernie, would you, kids? Huh?”

I'm left to wonder just how much money it takes to get the Boy Scouts to endorse your industry's cause. If the tobacco lobby just ponied up the right amount, could they get some sort of Joe Camel patch for the scout who blows the best smoke rings? Shit, I'd chip in to see that.

What Makes You Popular?

Ok, so I've had a few years of experience observing several groups of subjects (mostly 4th graders) and I've come to an intersting conclusion. We had a real evacuation today at school because someone smelled gas. While we were standing outside and hanging out, one of my colleagues asked me who the popular kids were. It became a pretty in-depth conversation into the culture of popularity. What makes a kid popular? A popular kid never wears pants that are too short. A popular boy's hair is shaggy and unkempt. He wears crocs and his dad is usually the coach of some sports team that his kid is on. A popular girl wears "Life is Good" shirts and is on the Girl Scouts and plays soccer. Is there such a thing as "popular" at so young an age? YES! Unfortunately, the pressures and stresses of "popularity" hit children at a very young age. I am afraid to say this . . . but by 4th grade, the popular kids have already been crowned and jeweled. Now my theories about popularity do not apply outside of elementary school. But in elementary schools, if your parents volunteer at the school, in the classroom, on field trips, you're popular. If your mom organizes class parties, you're popular. If your mom rides the bus with you on some two hour long ride to St. Mary's City, you're popular. Now, if your mom does not come to Back to School Night or to Open House, you have no chance of sitting with Cool Cal at lunch. If your mom buys you pants that are too short (but don't qualify for capris), you're not going to be invited to Pretty Penny's birthday party. The cool moms of the cool kids get coffee together in the mornings on their way to volunteer at school. So, the lesson is this: if you want your kids to be cool and popular and the envy of all the short-panted dorks, volunteer at your kids's school. Get involved. Give your pup a chance.

Attention Long-Haired NFL Players...

...you were pretty much begging for this to happen.

Transcript From A VH1 Boardroom Meeting

Subject: New CelebReality Programming

Corporate Big-Wig: Alright listen up, idiots! We've done a really good job at creating reality tevlevision programs involving barely famous people who are crazy/down on their luck, but we need to take it to a higher, edgier level. The American public yearns for something more than heavy celebrities on scales, damnit! Is there an extremely popular art form out there that we can totally bastardize and twist around its true meaning?

Corporate Lackey #8: Well, Sir, we recently had some success in that area with "Rock School" with Gene Simmons...what about...."Rap School"?

Corp. Big-Wig: Excellent! Making a new show out of an old show by changing around the cast to suit particular demographics! I like the way you think, dicksnot! We need to tap into that suburban/urban market the same way we did with "Flavor of Love". I am getting tired of paying Flavor Flav in gold fronts and other assorted decorative jewelry. Who could we get to host? Does anybody know if Sinbad is available? He was a pretty fly MC back in that 'old school' if my memory serves me..

Corp. Lackey #2: Um..no Sir..and no one knows his current whereabouts..

Corp. Big-Wig: Damn. We need to get a rapper who at one time had lots of street credibility and was pretty scary to White America but then became an actor and actually portrayed some type of civil servant he once incited people to kill.... If only that person were out there...

Corp. Lackey #5: Ice Cube?

Corp. Big-Wig: Close, meatbag, but no cigar. I'm thinking...lighter skin, similar acting skills, and slightly more of a huckster...

Corp. Lackey #3: I think Ice-T fits the mold you were describing...

Corp. Big-Wig: Perfect! Book him not now, but 15 minutes ago, asshole! Now what about the cast?

Corp. Lackey #1: Well.. I think we should get a group of the whitest, don't-even-know-what-oppression-means, non-superrappin', prep school kids to help maximize the bastardization factor. Of course, we would add a token minority here or there..

<entire boardroom chortles>

Corp. Big-Wig: Yes, yes, can't forget about those minorities! That's why you're my #1 bitch, Corporate Lackey #1!
Ok douche bags, it looks like we've got ourselves another hit on our hands. From here the show pretty much makes itself. As for Corporate Lackeys numbers 4, 6, and 7, since you had nothing to contribute, your jobs and your lives will be terminated. I have large, armed men waiting outside to escort you to your graves. As for the rest of you, back to the basement, slaves!

at dawn

at Dawn I stand
upon the pillars of dreams
those that came to me
siliently, wrapped in the
breath of inspiration.

for a single second
my heart beat
with my mothers' heart beat
for I presume that I
understand everything
for such is the power of dreams

at Dawn, amongst the
swaying shadows of
ancestral trees
I can see the strange
world of birds
soon each little one will
soar
trying to catch those dreams
I dreamt
suffocating for inspirational
breath
for they chase in the morning
as I chased at night
but finally standing in the light of
Dawn
nature and I are tied as
one

based on priciple

life seems so simple
based on the principle
of happiness
but unless a smile
appears on every face
our project will
become commonplace!
yet I want to love
love as if I've never lived
and give to those who
still believe in love
but I was brought up
with a simple idea of
love
and that is the dream
I want to follow!
though life may be
prejudice and hollow
my simple heart says
it's not true.
But i gaze unto you
my muse
why is a simple dream
so hard to
swollow?

Being Alec Baldwin

The first in a series of mulitple-choice quizzes to the test your pop-culture knowledge.
What is Alec Baldwin saying to this nice police officer man?

a. "I could give a good fuck what your commander said; I need to go over to that Starbucks. Don’t give me that, 'plane into a building' shit, Officer Fuckball! I need my moccafucktaddo now!"

b. "Do you know who I am? Huh? I’m so famous that, so help me God, I could take a shit right over there, and nobody would stop me."

c. "Yeah, buddy, mine’s the black Bentley convertible halfway down that block. Bring it around quick, will you? I got a lady waiting. A couple of ‘em, actually."

d. "No, you tell me how to get a fucking plane out of the road."

e. "How can you say that? Sorkin’s show isn’t even funny!"

Correct Answer: A, B, and D

our time has come

Now we're realizing
that the gods of
our fathers have
withdrawn
while we're praying
to their shadows
and the muscles
in our necks are torn
for gazing too long
at the ground
and those who've claimed
to drown in an ocean of
divine emotion
are seen enveloped in a
cloud of dust in the desert
retreating to the oasis of
their hearts
but look no further
don't you hear a sound?
the growth of a new order
nourished by earthly waters found
some of us can be seen
dipping wooden buckets in its stream
and there we bring water
to our fathers' gods
and sing to them
sending them of gently
to the here-after!

An Open Letter to the Democratic Party

Dear Democrats,

What's new, guys? Not much on this end. I’ve been hanging and banging, ya know. Well, maybe not so much with the “banging,” but everything’s been solid.

Hey, I heard on the "Daily Show" about that Republican Congressman totally being caught trying to jerk off a couple of fifteen year old boys. Way gross. If that were me, I’d be all, like, “Dude, you got a floor vote to get to. Not the time to cyber-pull my wang.” I mean, right? LOL.

Then, on "Countdown" that dude was talking about that Republican Senator from Virginia who's Jewish but doesn’t want anyone to know, and how he hates black people, and that he apparently knows several different words for black people in different languages. I mean, damn, yo. You know you’re racist when you make sure to learn the ethnic slurs of countries you don’t even live in.

Oh, and then on "60 Minutes" they were talking about how a lot of the country is totally bumming on the President and how he handled Iraq, the hurricane, the economy, oil dependence, CEO malfeasance, nuclear proliferation, tying his shoes, torture, and… well, dudes, I kinda lost track after that.

Anyway, the reason I’m writing to you, ladies and gentledudes, is to say this:

DON’T FUCK THIS UP.

I’ve seen you there, hiding away, saying nothing, and hoping that the snowball the Republicans have kicked down the hill will smother them all. You may believe that you can just sit back and look good by comparison, benefiting from the “At Least My Party Doesn’t Try Fuck Boy Scouts” defense, but you’d be wrong.

Don’t stand silent and pray not to get hit with any Bad-PR shrapnel. Use this to promote your agenda, to announce your ideas, like… uh... um... Well, what the hell are your ideas, anyway?

Remember, dudes: The lesser of two evils is still evil.

Your Loving Blog Servants,

WAWGDWATT

Bono vs. MacKaye

Both Bono and Ian Mackaye espouse similar philosophies; loving one another and helping each other out seem to be the two pillars they share and upon which their differences rest. Bono races around the world decrying third world debt, AIDS and let's face it, anything that brings tears to the eyes of the less fortunate. He also laces his songs with political and religious content thus bolstering his views with something other than pure introspective belief. He also doesn't mind saying that he's an Irishman through and through and loves to enjoy a pint every now and than with his fellow mates; Bono also invites his fans to pubs whenever he has time and is physically in Dublin. I have and will always admire Bono if not for his songs and music than for his acumen as an ambassador for humanity. My concern is simply, "Does his actions actually inspire people into action?"
Ian MacKaye on the other hand is a local celebrity known internationally. I stress the "local" rather than the "international". Mackaye along with his previous incarnation, Minor Threat and with his current (and I hope not defunct) band Fugazi have also been politically charged. Mackaye has played free shows around D.C. championing many cuases such as battered women, homelessness and the arts. Mackaye also initiated the philosophy of "Straight Edge" which espouses no use of alcohol, drugs, tobacco and meat (some are vegans). Mackaye believes in these principles and makes sure he does not impose them upon anyone else. So I ask the following question, "Does his actions actually inspire people into action?"
I would like to start of by saying that action (along with invention) is 1% inspiration and 99% prespiration (thanks Mr. Edison). My belief is that Bono gets a certain message out there; he informs people and can better inform people because he is a trustworthy individual and has captured the spotlight. In this regard Bono is a better foreign news outlet than CNN. I think that the work needed to illiminate the problems that Bono speaks off is quiet alarming and overwhelming; for a country who's attention span is about 22mins the task is almost laughable. MacKaye inspires as well but also falls short of inspring a majority of his fans into action. MacKaye's challange is that his road is too hard. No one wants to give up eating meat and alcohol. Smokers want to smoke. For example a smoker can be very anti big business but by purchasing smokes he/she is aiding one of the largest corp. and corp. lobby in America. When given choice between ideals and addiction many will choose addiction. MacKaye and Bono both inspire in similar ways (ideals etc.) but where as MacKaye's road is too bumpy, Bono's road is too long. The former's road asks for personel sacrifice while the latters asks for attention and work.

Say It Ain't So...

Dear Tower,

I have recently received word that your health has been failing over the last several years since we parted ways. I know that your illness is terminal and soon you will cease to exist in physical form. I wanted to take this opportunity to gain some sort of closure.
Throughout the duration of our five year love affair, I experienced both the euphoric highs and the vomit-inducing lows. Towards the end of our relationship, I began to see the writing on the wall and realized that staying together only harmed us both. But oh, how hard it has been to not be a part of the greatest sociological study ever: the record store.

So many CDs to choose from! I can't think of many places where every single culture and subgroup are artistically (more or less) represented, Acid Jazz to Zydeco. Thinking about all that music still makes me smile. No longer will anyone experience the dizzying din and youthful exuberance of the Pop floor or the quiet refuge (and shoplifting opportunities) of the Classical/Jazz room. Gone are the days of entertaining the amusing questions of wayward customers, "Do you know that song on the radio? I think it's about love/death/God/drugs/insecurity/etc." or "You know that song with the drum that goes ba-boom ba-boom ba-boom boom?" Gone are the days of making dudes with porn squirm by ringing them up e x t r a s l o w while a number of mothers, wives, and daughters line up behind them. Gone are the surreal moments like helping Alonzo Mourning find Eric Benet's and P. Diddy's latest CDs. Or witnessing my college psychology professor stroll in one Saturday morning and proceed to purchase 'Black Tail' and what's the name of the Asian one, 'Oriental Honeys'? Wow. Guess I'll see you in class next week, Doc!
There were some dark times of course. You made me stay up late on Monday nights for people who couldn't wait till morning to see how Madonna reinvented herself for this CD. You made me take inventory twice a year (We sold how many copies of Jesse Camp's album?!) You forced me to sell concert tickets to Jimmy Buffett fans who started lining up hours in advance all the while singing every word to every song from every Jimmy Buffett album. You crammed 5 years worth of summer anthems into the very depths of my mind. Do you remember "Steal My Sunshine" by Len? Good. You do not want to. What about "Mambo #5", the song that gets my vote as the most horrid song ever song ever? You paid me wages that indentured servants would scoff at. I have images of customers behaving like escaped zoo animals during the holiday shopping season that still keep me up at night.
So what the hell happened Tower? Things used to be so good and cool. But then it started to suck. Was it the $18.99 price tag for CDs? Was it too many discounts (of the employee and 5-finger variety)? Was it having a "you can open your CDs, burn them, then get a full refund" return policy? More than likely, you became a victim of the Internet and the iPod. There was no way to compete. CDs became almost obsolete. I can barely remember the last CD I bought rather than downloaded. Because of this, you became a shell of your former self. Part of me resents what technology did to you, but the smarter part of me knows I'll be first in line to get that USB port installed in the back of my neck. You will always be a part of me, Record Store.

Such is life.

Much Love and Disdain,

Scrap Heap Pete-too

vigil

I've just lost an important friend
who met a very tragic end
a world devoid of human laughter
he became an investment banker

so join me in a private vigil
of all that is legitimate and legal

and I found it very strange
that his girlfriends were made
to get their anatomies changed

what a selfless way to live
better to give than to recieve
so his investors on bended knees
were found to laugh
at their circumstance
finding their ankles warmed by
the seat of their pants!

untitled

now you've got a child
along with your ideals
so how does it feel
when you can't feed either?
but as long as you're no liar
who needs a father?

but now you've sinned amongst the sane
and it won't take too long
for praise to change
so how does it feel
when you've also given birth to blame?
who is also burdened with half a name

so where are your friends?
where has the family gone?
those who remain
whisper your name
to silience your wrongs
but as long as you're alive
a testament to repentance
a philosophy is perpetrated
and only It is forgiven!

I've Got Good News and Bad News...

The good news is that the N.Y. Yankees are out of the 2006 Playoffs. Again. This is indeed a good thing for a variety of deep and meaningful reasons:

1. Watching the fragile psyche of baseball's highest paid player slowly shatter into 252 million pieces (1 for each dollar of his contract) as a result of excruciating pressure. Reality TV indeed!

2. Bandwagoners contemplating dumping their Yankee's hats and buying Dwayne Wade jerseys.

3. George Steinbrenner furious is fun to look at
(from a safe distance, of course). Hey Filthy Rich Grandpa! Maybe if you stopped acting like a tyrant and scaring the shit out of your employees they'd perform better during crunch time!

4. Spending the most amount of money isn't a reliable predictor of success. (Whew! I was worried there for a moment.)

The bad news is:

1. Unhappy Yankee fans are not pleasant people. Handle with extreme caution.

2. Unnecessary press conferences. The Yankees were eliminated Saturday but are forced to hold a press conference 4 days later explaining that no hirings/firings have taken place and that essentially, nothing has changed. Enlightening! Expect it to last the entire off season.

3. Every early exit from the playoffs brings Steinbrenner
one step closer to hatching his evil plan to harvest
certain body parts from deceased Hall of Famers and creating a super baseball playing monster (a la the Cobra Emperor, Serpentor).

What's So Funny About Peace, Love & Eternal Hellfire

Hour two of an eight hour drive from Cincinnati to Maryland covers Ohio’s rural east. It’s huge and flat and when the sun sets in your rear view mirror, the dark blues of the horizon line bleed into stretches of violet and magenta, before giving way to a gorgeous, soft blue above. It really is quite beautiful.

Then you pass a roadside billboard that reads, “HELL IS REAL” with a red ‘R’ for effect, and your whole Mid-West, Nature-Appreciation high has a quick and hard come down.

Further down the same interstate, the Ten Commandments are given their own series of billboards, painted as though they were the background set painting for a middle school play about the Bible.

Now, I have no problem with believers; I just don’t share their beliefs. I do, however, have a problem with people who wish to force their beliefs upon others. I do have a problem with soapbox lecturers who use misrepresentations of ancient texts to justify their own biases and predispositions. According to my beliefs, that makes you an asshole.

I’m sure the Big Ten, as I’ve taken to calling them, were, at some point, very sage guidelines for both human and community survival. Don’t kill each other, don’t bone your buddy’s wife, and don’t steal your neighbor’s slave. All timeless principles, I’m sure. But we now have the benefit of thousands of years of collective knowledge and experience on which to base our lives. Do we really require proper slave-owning instructions today?

Let me put it this way.

I’m sure that when Rocko, having just crawled out of his cave dwelling one morning, stumbled upon his cave neighbor, Clubo, trying to have sex with an elk, he wanted very much to help out his wayward friend. Rocko's cousin had attempted this very act many moons past and had met with an untimely death as a result. Rocko tried to explain this to Clubo, but Clubo did not care: fucking an elk felt good, and he liked it, so he would continue to do so--regardless of the recent outbreak of Caveman VD. So, Rocko needed a different way to convince his friend. One night, Rocko pointed to the moon and told Clubo it was a great man who watched over everyone. And because the moon did resemble a person's face--and the fact that he was an idiot--Clubo believed this. Rocko then said the moon did not like it when cavemen had sex with elk; that, in fact, the moon only wanted cavemen to have sex with cavewomen because that would make more people to help their struggling civilization thrive. Clubo did not like this rule, but Rocko said that the moon would make Clubo’s dick fall off if he had sex with the elk. So, Clubo found a nice Mrs. Clubo and had many Clubo kids, and long ago forgot the warm touch of the forbidden elk.

There you go. That’s religion to me: Rules about fucking elk. Rules to govern one’s life that, I believe, represented the best wisdom available at that time. But we live two millennia later. Humans and culture have progressed in ways unimaginable even a hundred years ago. We need not fear the bacteria in pork. We need not only mate with the opposite sex to propagate the species. We need not rely on mythology for meaning or purpose. And we need not fear the boogeyman at the pulpit.

Hell is real inasmuch as your most horrific dreams are real. It’s a millennia-old hypothesis based on shaky data. Hell is the wet dream of the world’s most twisted masochist.

At least, that’s what I believe.

Exodus, Chapter Twenty, Verses 1 - 17

Then God spoke all these words:

I am the Lord your God, who brought you out of the land of Egypt, out of the house of slavery; you shall have no other gods before me.

You shall not make for yourself an idol, whether in the form of anything that is in heaven above, or that is on the earth beneath, or that is in the water under the earth. You shall not bow down to them or worship them; for I, the Lord your God, am a jealous God, punishing children for the iniquity of parents, to the third and the fourth generation of those who reject me, but showing steadfast love to the thousandth generation of those who love me and keep my commandments.

You shall not make wrongful use of the name of the Lord your God, for the Lord will not acquit anyone who misuses his name.

Remember the sabbath day, and keep it holy. For six days you shall labour and do all your work. But the seventh day is a sabbath to the Lord your God; you shall not do any work—you, your son or your daughter, your male or female slave, your livestock, or the alien resident in your towns. For in six days the Lord made heaven and earth, the sea, and all that is in them, but rested the seventh day; therefore the Lord blessed the sabbath day and consecrated it.

Honour your father and your mother, so that your days may be long in the land that the Lord your God is giving you.

You shall not murder.

You shall not commit adultery.

You shall not steal.

You shall not bear false witness against your neighbour.

You shall not covet your neighbour’s house; you shall not covet your neighbour’s wife, or male or female slave, or ox, or donkey, or anything that belongs to your neighbour.