Don't Climb Mt. Hood

Q: What do these two things have in common?

Rock Ballads

Mt. Hood

A: That's right. Both can kill.

I bring this up because it seems that in recent years there has been a spat of climbing deaths on Mt. Hood (this past week is no exception) and it has forced me to ask the hard questions:

Why do people climb this damn thing?

Is it the gently inviting slopes?

The placid forests?

The siren calls of the native Sasquatch?

Now, it seems that more and more groups of three head out to do some traipsing around on the mountain, only to fall victim to freezing temperatures and stale granola. Hubris at it's best.

Even a quick perusal of the internet will tell you that anything associated with the mountain is wrought with tragedy. Commissioned in July 1944, the munitions ship USN Mt. Hood was destroyed when a weapons magazine exploded in November. Tally? 45 dead, 327 missing, 371 injured. That's Bad News Bears, man. (I know, I know, some of you are saying that another munitions ship was comissioned in 1971 and sailed for over 20 years without mishap, but that doesn't really add anything to my point and so I choose to ignore it.)

For godsake, if you must climb that towering bitch of a rock, make sure you pack a satellite phone, or at the very least, some aged gouda, so the rescue dogs can find your ass after the avalanche.

The Soul Effect

The soul patch.

A bevy of questions and precious few answers.

What would a grown man allow himself to look this stupid? Can he possible think it is cool? More importantly, what does his significant over have to say about all of this?

The ubiquitous patch seems to be cropping up everywhere from work and TV to cable shows and tabloids. No facet of American life is immune. I fear that we are in the midst of a Renaissance of dooshy facial hair not seen since the terrible 1860s when men were too busy skipping baths to worry about facial travesties.

Bask in the glory of some Soul Patches culled from the internet. . .

Notice a trend? I sure did, and in the interests of good taste I refrain from posting more.

Not to be alarmist, but I see this as a symptom of moral decline, a weakening of the 'tough guy' fiber that made America great. I mean, seriously, what's the intended effect? A pouty insouciance? An approach me vulnerability that screams, "Hey, come and talk to me. I swing both ways. . ."?

Sadly, I think it says just as much about out women as our men. Sorry ladies, but the fact that you let your significant other wander around with such a ridiculous tuft of hair that looks like a Brazilian Wax gone bad says loads about the current state of male-female relations. Ladies, if you find yourself dating a man with a Soul Patch, you must realize that you're basically telling the world "Hey, I've given up. This is the best I can do. Sure, he's a loser who thinks pork-pie hats are cool and that SKA should be thought of as high art, but hey, that's good enough for me."

Ladies, I say to you, "Demand MORE!"

To sum up: No one looks good with a soul patch. I repeat, no one looks good with a soul patch!

Keep Firing

There are idoits and then there are assholes. It seems like America has been plagued by the latter in recent day. From what I can gather, totting a gun to work and blowing away your fellow schleps has become the new American past time. No more bowling, no more driving around and flipping people off. No, the new way to let out your pent up teenage angst and feelings of inadequacy it to take it out on innocent people by senselessly murdering them at their place of employment.

Now, let me be clear. I am in NO WAY blaming the gunmen. No. Not me. I mean,  people can only take soooooo much frustration in their lives. And look at the times we live in.  At no other time in history has there been wars waged or economic hardships endured---NOT EVER! Life is so much harder now than it was just a few years ago, I mean, only last year we were nothing but innocents watching John and Kate +8, worrying about who would win Idol and just basically living a carefree life. Then BAM! Economic meltdown, two minor conflicts in pointlessly remote regions of the world, the whole thing with Tiger. It's just too much to bare for people who think they deserve more from life. . .

Which brings me to a clip from the movie Spaceballs that has been playing through my mind ever since the incidents occurred. In it, Dark Helmet asks a questions we should be asking ourselves about everyone who works with us.

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=FZNPxxRU4Wc

'How many asshole we got on this ship anyway?'

Far, far too many. . .

Commentator Crapola

There is an epidemic spreading across the land of the interwebs, a blight so unsightly and insidious that millions suffer from it daily without even knowing it. Am I talking about a virulent form of computer H1N1, you ask? Nah, nothing that scary, but it is an affliction that affects many and it goes by the name of Cantshutthefuckup-itis. (It's a real affliction, look it up.) It's symptoms include an inability to pass over an article without leaving a comment and a desperate need to get one up on the author.

The disease manifests itself in different ways, but here are a few of the symptoms as expressed by type.

The Grammarian

These are the 'flamers' that complain incessantly about small grammatical miscues and typos in the article. Most are so pissed you'd think they were reading the collected works of Proust instead of some two paragraph article posted by a college intern. Come on, everyone must know by now that most crap on the Web is written between the hours of 2am-4am and almost never has the benefit of a second edit (rarely even a first). Still, that doesn't stop morons from posting comments about stylistic choices that they've confused with hard and fast grammar rules. I came across one comment recently at the bottom of a computer software program review that typifies what I'm talking about. Enjoy.

". . .One would think that someone who writes for a living wouldn’t have to be told that “for free” is an improper use of the English language. The word “free” literally means “for nothing.” Thus, when you write “for free,” what you’re actually saying is “for for nothing.” The word “free” stands alone. It requires no modification. . . ."

Wow. Pretty lucid. And totally pointless. Within the context of the article, the sentence was perfectly fine and the broader ontological view of the writer was completely missed by the poster. I think the the thing that irks the most about the grammarian is that just because you can do something---here, speak English---doesn't mean that you are an expert at it. To give an example, sex. I'm sure that as a functioning gonad, the commentator has the mechanics of the act down, but the poetry? A much more elusive target. . .

The Proverbial Fucknut

A complete reliance on useless and inappropriate proverbs. How many times have we seen "may you live in interesting times" to highlight some justification for an argument or used by a desperate poster trying to be profound?

The thing that pisses off most is the incessant use of exclusively Chinese proverbs or those other linguistic atrocities committed by our greatest obese hypocrite, Ben Franklin.

Knowledge may be common for some, but who is to say that everyone is common?

Auto-Erotic Wanker

No. This isn't the grease monkey down at the local garage. This is the noodge that refers to himself when he posts, for example with the phrase, "As I have said before. . ." As if anyone was really paying attention! I hate to break the news, but people aren't running around saving the collected rants from someone who calls himself Luv2nips23.

When people start quoting themselves you know you're in for a deep dish of tasty bullshit, usually served with a steaming side of Chinese proverbs.

Wordsmith Wannbe

Comments longer than the post. So Kewl.

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Do I need one more? Maybe. Am I going to continue?

No, but I will leave you with these little nuggets. See how many you can spot the next time you're trolling through the comment section of your favorite site.

"something for everyone to consider. . ."

"think about it."

"look. . ."

If you feel so inclined, please add to the list.

Polanski not Roman, more Greek

I am sure everyone out there in fantasy land has heard all about the little international dust-up surrounding Roman Polanski. It seems the little munchkin was nabbed by the cops on his way to a film festival for some slight "youthful indiscretions" he had when he was 40.

But fear not! Celebs in Hollyweird have jumped in to save him from the long cold arm of justice. "He is innocent!" They protest. "He is a miniature treasure!" They howl. "Like a talking midget or cheap Mariachi puppet you buy in Tijuana Mexico!"

To show their support, they do what everyone everywhere does when something bad happens to someone: They signed a petition. (I hear the authorities are shitting themselves over this.) Here is a short list of the people that are out of touch with reality:

Whoopi Goldberg, Woody Allen (the irony!), Pedro Almodovar, Monica Bellucci, Guillermo del Toro, Terry Gilliam, John Landis, David Lynch, Martin Scorsese, just to name a few.

It just goes to show that you can teach moron how to make a movie, but you can't teach them right from wrong.

This brings up a tertiary point: It seems that many who are jumping on the bandwagon are doing so in response to a documentary recently released dealing with the Polanski case. The documentary alleges that the judge was biased in the case (finding Polanski guilty) because detectives "sexed-up" information. Recently, the detective in the film has surfaced to say that it was in fact he who had "sexed up" the version of events to make a more exciting movie.

"But," the Shitirati protest, "How can this be? The lens always reveals the truth!"

That may be so, but only for fat chics and Botox. It's a fucking documentary. These people are not reporters. It's entertainment. Al Gore is a doosh---And yes, people do lie on camera. As long as it isn't in court, they don't give a shit. No harm, no foul.

You know, this whole fiasco has given me a wonderful idea. I am going to start fobbing myself off as a famous director. That way, I can sleep with whomever I like, be forgiven for being a uninteresting asshole who only talks film, make boring movies for people who fancy themselves auteurs and best of all, not worry about looking like a damn garden gnome.