Articles Archive for 29 April 2005
Two television shows I’ve seen recently, with analysis that is both humorous and insightful (hopefully, but probably not):
1) “The Deadliest Catch” on the Discovery Channel. This show is about crab fisherman in Alaska, the ballsiest men on earth. Basically, for about four days a year these guys head out on a crabbing boat deep into the waters surrounding Alaska to fish for king crabs. They can make $50,000 in those four days. Wow.
Of course, there’s a catch. In this case, this is the most dangerous job in the world, with the highest occupational mortality rate of any job. And people routinely lose fingers, hands, limbs or otherwise seriously fuck themselves up. The guys lament about the dangers of the job on the show, about how they’re trying to provide for their families, and how every time they leave them they’re scared because it could be the last time they ever see them.
Here’s an idea: why don’t you get a normal fucking job? Sure, you won’t make $50G’s in four days, but you’ll make a nice living and won’t have to worry about dying in the icy cold ocean, as you swim in vain after your detached arm floating away from you. I don’t know – I haven’t seen enough of the show – but it seems kinda wrong to me. These guys risk their lives and the welfare of their families to get rich quick? How about not being equal parts lazy and crazy and getting a normal job? I mean, WTF?
At any rate, it’s an entertaining show.
2) “Intervention” on A&E. This show follows around addicts of various kinds and tells their stories. The addicts believe that they’re taking part in a documentary about addiction and are unaware that they are about to be surprised with an intervention. The show could be subtitled “Intervention: What Will Surely Become Of Jason Mulgrew If He Ever Gets Any Real Cash.”
In the episode I saw, two stories were told. One girl, Alyson, was a former White House intern and Ivy Leaguer who met up with a bad guy and became addicted to crack and meth. Oops. And then there’s Tommy, a former stock broker and executive VP who spent $200,000 in two years on cocaine was living on the street. Oops again.
And it’s some pretty intense stuff. Alyson is so addicted to morphine that she steals her dying father’s prescriptions. Yikes. Of course, we know how this ends: the camera follows them and shows how pathetic they are, there’s a touching intervention, then they show how the one-time addicts are in recovery and have been sober for 200+ days.
I have two problems with this show:
- It pisses me off that the addicts have families that are well-off enough to send their loved ones to very expensive, fancy-pants treatment centers in South California and New Mexico. Perhaps it’s me, but I don’t have much sympathy for a rich girl who goes away to college and becomes bad. 200 days at a $15,000 a month treatment facility is not an option for the kid in the Midwest addicted to crank or the crackhead begging for change on the 4 train. For some reason, this really bothers me.
- I thought that seeing a show like this would scare me away from vices and evil (not that I have a problem; as I’ve mentioned before, I’ve retired from most drugs). But, like my hospital visit I talked about last Friday, it had the opposite effect: I walked away from this show feeling pretty good about the control of my vices. Since I’m an asshole, my attitude was, “Look at these weaklings – what a bunch of losers! Why can’t they be more like me! I have total control over all of my addictions and I’m awesome! Also, I have this awesome fucking blog! I want some drugs because I can handle it! GIVE ME SOME DRUGS!” I don’t know, maybe it’s just me.
And the next episode features a bulimic and (are you ready for this?) a video-game addict. Hmmm…good luck drawing empathy from viewers for a video game addict, A&E. After hearing this, my roommate Ben and I were talking about contacting A&E. Ben would call all upset, saying, “I don’t know…he’s been my roommate for two years, but about a year ago he started masturbating and he hasn’t stopped since. All day long he sits in the living room and masturbates! [tears flowing] I don’t even know who he is anymore!”
So if anyone knows anyone at A&E, put in a good word for me. I promise I can pull it off (pun intended).
Joe from Philly sent this to me. I mean, wow.
I want to go on record and say right here, right now, that if I ever pass out on a couch, you ladies can perform all the oral sex on me that you want and I will NOT press charges. I do so solemnly swear. Seriously.
Joe put it best: “I don’t care what SHE looks like, as long as it is a SHE and not a he, I am thinking this man is crazy!” True, my friend, very true.
(And if you can find a picture of this woman, please send it to me – I’d pay to see what she looks like. I mean, I won’t pay you if you show me the picture, but you get the point.)
On that note, I love getting emails from you all. I’ve said this before and I mean it. Many of them are very good, thought-provoking, and intelligent. On the other hand, many of them are not so good.
And so I’m instituting some email rules. I do this because my inbox is getting a little out of control. I’m currently way behind on emails, and every time I check there are more added, so it makes me scared and sad that I can’t respond to the good ones. If I were to properly respond to every email I get, it would take me over two hours a night. I can’t do that. I have a lot of other things to do (that involve television and nudity).
So in the future, please follow these guidelines before emailing me. Thank you.
(Now here goes me trying to sound like a dick)
- Do not send me one line emails. I don’t respond to these anyway, but they also crowd up my inbox. Examples are, “Dude, you rock.” Yes, I know I rock. You think I just woke up one day and was magically an Internet Quasi-Celebrity? No, I worked hard at it for at least three weeks there when I really cared about posting. The same applies for “Dude, you suck” or “Dude, you’re not funny at all”. I’m not saying you can’t express these sentiments, don’t do so in one line. If you have nothing substantive to say, please don’t email me (we can still be friends though).
- Conversely, do not send me long emails. I have a very short attention span and that, coupled with my extreme self-interest, means that I can’t read much of anything that a) I didn’t write; b) isn’t about me; or c) doesn’t have boobies or at least a booby playing a major role in it.
- Do not include me on any forwards or group emails. I can’t express this enough. When I see “FW:” in a subject line, I delete it without even reading it. The same applies to group emails. Every time I get one of these I want to punch you in the face. I know you mean well, but I am a bitter, bitter man.
- For the ladies and homosexual men: you are not in love with me. You are just at a weird place in your life which you will come out of eventually. But I assure you you are not in love with me. If you really think you are, may God have mercy on your soul.
- And you do not want to marry me. I promise. If you think you want to marry me based on what you’ve read here, then odds are I will not want to marry you. To paraphrase Woody Allen who paraphrased someone else, I don’t want to be in any club that will have me as a member. So since it’s just not going to work between us, save me the painful email.
[You know, because I get a lot of those two types of emails.]
- I will not read anything that you send me to read (i.e. an article, essay, or piece that you wrote). I am not a writer. I have an internet diary filled with curse words. I don’t know anything about writing or any of that crap, so please don’t send me stuff to read. Or, if you do send me stuff to read, be sure to include a donation of at least $20 and I’ll pretend like I know what I’m talking about.
- I will go to nothing that you email me about, unless I know you personally. Though I have tons of free time and don’t get out much, I like sitting quietly in my room, looking at candles and drinking beer.
[Good lord - it is astonishing how true that last sentence is. So, so sad.]
- To my friends who know my actual email address, please do not email me at firstname.lastname@example.org and then get mad at me when I don’t respond to your email in a timely fashion. If you know my real address, use it. God I hate you.
- I can’t be pen pal or your email friend. To be honest, I hate emailing. It’s too artificial for my taste (I hate talking on the phone too). Aside from that, I’ve never had a pen pal in my life, so I have no idea what to write about. Also, I’m immediately going into it with a handicap, as you can find out pretty much everything there is to know about me, whereas I don’t know anything about you. Since it works, let’s keep it this way.
- Help me by emailing me with appropriately titled subjects. For example, if you have music suggestions, write “music suggestions” in the subject line. If you have a question or need advice, tell me so in the subject line. I realize that the contact page does not allow for a subject line, so when possible please email me directly at email@example.com.
[Also, in case y'all forgot, Site Guy Brendan has an email address: firstname.lastname@example.org. You should email him to thank him for ensuring these posts get up everyday and dealing with me on a daily basis, which can be a tremendous stress on anyone.]
And that’s it. I’m really digging this “Email of the Week” thing, partially because it gives me a topic to write about, and partially because I feel empowered that people would ask me for advice. So keep those type of emails coming. And, as always, I’m looking for music suggestions.
I don’t have Six Songs to recommend, sadly because I haven’t been rocking out much over the past week. Spending all of my time wandering around the city looking at apartments has left me little time for downloading new music.
I do however have a correction. Last week I recommended the song, “Madame George” by Van Morrison, but I should have been more precise. The version I recommended is from the album “T.B. Sheets”. There is also a version from “Astral Weeks”, but that one isn’t nearly as good (it’s much slower). So there. My apologies for the confusion.
If you have not already seen this, please read it now. Thank you. And I’m sorry.