Thank you Daniel

Where did you get that line, where did you get that look? Where did you get that pension for destruction in the way you talk? Where did you get that ride? Where did you get that rocket? Where did you get that painter in your pocket?

A disclaimer of sorts.

To understand, one must listen to the album Destroyers Rubies, by Destroyer while reading "Machinations, Why?, and Experimenting." Why so, I don't know. It is a slammin' album and if you don't listen to it, do not scratch it off your list. You know what I mean. All in All, listen to the LP, the wax set, the vinyl of vinyl, and free your thoughts. Perhaps discover what it means to actually free your thoughts and discover. Become one with all and relish in it's beauty. If you don't give a shit, then there is no need for me to dissuade you otherwise, for your mind is made, and someone, something is leading you in the way that you should go. Press on sailor. May the catch be unlike anything you have ever seen!

Oh, the machinations, the feeling, the realization.....

I sit, and feel upset that I cannot Portray my feelings, my emotions as one might in the face of ultimate doom, despair, perhaps even loathing, failure, or even success. Who would have imagined it, success to the author but to no one else. Bless those who were torn apart by the UN-heard destruction. Lay in rest upon the hands of the most benevolent. The one that invites, the one that has no qualms, the one that is sure of all, and unsure of nothing. Be still, understand, or participate in the understanding. I should bring it to the attention that the water smells, looks, and tastes musky. OK. It is still the liquid that sustains my being, and for this I feel that i should not complain, for to complain would be to argue the spontaneity and purpose of my thoughts and cycle.
Why? Oh..But why not?
The song so drifts to my ears and regardless of all the shit, carries me away towards solitude.

The why?

Well, after my delusional trip, I'm pretty sure I just sat and pondered the phenomena of my existence. What i know, is that it was salty, but bland, and that i was eager to drink it in. I don't regret anything, because to have regrets is to question the very blood that runs through one's veins. OK, straying off topic, fuck, who am I kidding? What is topic? What is everything else? Not my questions to ask I guess because I cannot answer them correctly. The fresh, clean water is very much enjoyable, according to the advertisements, it uses less plastic, and is more ecologically friendly. But, all things are foreshadowed in lies. Be it cotton candy, or the assassination of the "once and future king" of the Americas. We live in a land, nay, a world of consumerism, and it is so strong, that there is nothing that one can do to battle this gigantic beast of burden.
The land runs free, and the water still flows, but forgive me, some are hungry for more than freedom. Many are hungry solely for their offspring. Forget the lonesome children. Many are raised by the world. The wold is a strategic hunter, and it behooves one to learn the ways of the wolf, But mastery of it's art is a different thing. The wolf is invincible, it turns into children as disguise. It sips brandy while we nap.

Experimenting with.....fuck it!

Well, seeing as how I am unable to type, I think that I shall just type regardless. I hope that i do not fatique the serious of many, but who am I to exemplar? Ok... I am awake, I am surrounded by half-ass illuminescencse (I don't know if that is a word. I don't know if anything that I am speaking is a word. If I were a teacher, would I be terminated? Anywho! I sit, mingle, ponder. I do not care if there were a gun pointed to my head, but certainly, If there were a gun pointed toward my head, I would be very nervous. Cincinnati, I remember. Remember that. Remember this. I remember the certain amounts of spring and summer, and I contemplate the amount of time one would spend reading this gibberish, this bullshit, but what else? Sleep? Transcendence? Ok, my garden of lies. My shallow coral reef of the things and words that one would expect from write. Oh, how failure I have become. Learn from these. Build off of these small business examples. But what if it is all wrong? What if I am doing things the opposite of the way they should actually be done? Have I made a waste? Have i typed my way into oblivious refuge? Whatever the fuck any of the following actually means. HaHa Ha.

The modern myth

Both Kidd and Woodward describe the significance of the uniforms worn by Superman and Wonder Woman. Both writers make it clear that the uniform has many meanings and that the uniform is fitting, seeing as how the one's who wear the uniforms are the potential heroes of mankind.

It is safe to say that both authors have read comic books, and have a great deal of respect for these fictional characters. "I always hate it whenever Superman's outfit is referred to as a costume." (Kidd 553) Well, I can agree with that. I think that superheros don't get the real attention they deserve. People see superheroes save man from impending doom on a daily basis. Most see superheros as an outlet, thrilling action and escape from reality, but the message is lost in translation. We create superheroes because we feel a need as a whole to be rescued. Rescued from various super villains that are present in life. These super villains are often other people, sometimes super genius humans, sometimes catastrophic events caused by humans, or whatnot. I guess I am just rambling. The question I was trying to answer is how the authors got their points across differently. Well, it is easy to see that the authors believe that superheros don't get the respect they deserve. I don't necessarily have to read two essays to understand this point. The superhero is a symbol of strength and unity. I mean c'mon, "Truth, Justice, and the American way." Maybe super patriotic, but in essence, words that define a way of living. Words that represent a way of thinking. And where did these words come from? Certainly not from any politician, but from a made up being. A thing from another planet that if did not have superpowers, and a solid upbringing, would not have been looked at with the same respect he receives today. Lets not forget about the other things, the voluptuous/sculpted bodies behind the skintight uniform. "Clothes hug the curves of the body fantastic, both as a way to ignite sexual fires in adolescent readers, and to signify a branding of the flesh." (Woodward 558) This screams freedom of sexuality, and ultimate beauty, without hinting at extreme vanity in any way. There are morals behind the superhero. Superheros make us feel safe, they remind us that good can triumph over evil.

The ebb and tide of popular culture in western civilization.

Disclaimer: Due to my procrastination, this is going to be a very shitty blog. Have mercy. It probably won't have any quotes from the text either. My sincerest apologies.

Ah, where to begin, where to begin? As usual, I read something. That something was titled "The Cosmic Significance of Britney Spears" by Tom Perrotta. (The title is in pretty pink, bubbly letters) Anyways..................So............ Perrotta's essay describes the enigma that is Britney Spears. He compares her to Elvis, Madonna, and Cobain in an attempt to point out her similarities with these artists, and her differences. Basically, (as I percieved) the essay is about Britney Spears being a product of corporate america, and how that product represented the overall state of the union at that time. I don't know, some bullshit like that. It's 10:31, I got class at 11, this is due at 1, I'm getting sidetracked, I guess now, I can add my 1 and 1/2 cents.

Well, what do I think of the essay? Well, the author does a good job explaining what he thinks about Spears, and what she is all about, but I believe that Perotta is not harsh enough. Maybe it's just me but Perrotta seems like he has a level head on his shoulders, he just seems like a literary wimp. Nowhere in the essay does he point out the fact that Spears, and artists like her are the reason why music is getting worse at an exponential rate with the current growth of the cancer that is pop culture stardom. Yes I enjoy cleavage, but I also enjoy music that makes sense. Ok, yes Spears sings songs about teasing and heartbreak, and all other kinds of bullshit, but she doesn't write the lyrics or the music, people write the bullshit for her. She is a puppet for the record companies, and an icon on a soapbox of gibberish for the billions in this country, foaming at the mouth for something catchy to listen to. Perrotta compares Spears to Madonna, Madonna sings about some ridiculous shit that I don't really care about, but atleast she writes the crap, and takes the blame for the crap. (Plus she adopts foreign children on a regular basis. She is super spectacular in my book.) I have no fucking idea where I'm going with all of this. I am upset that I had to read about Britney Spears, the fucking joke to the musical community. But at the same time, as of today, the joke would be on me, all the cool people listen to Spears, and her musically inbred cousins of artists. I would have loved to have read a piece on a woman who influenced music in a positive way, rather than waste my time reading a piece about an authors inner struggle to understand "the largest pop star in the universe"


Suggested Listening: Neko Case. This lady has some real talent. Even if you don't like it, you should respect her, and her music because she works hard to write and perform things that evoke feeling and emotion. The only feeling and emotion that Britney Spears music evokes is false hope in impressionable young girls, and boners in adolescent and grown men.

Bottom line: Fuck Britney Spears, and fuck the paper wasted to print this god-awful essay on.

Sorry for being so rash Coop.