Hello?

Remember when I actually posted things here? Oh, the nostalgia.

And on a lighter note,

What’s 1 in blog years?

Hello person that reads me. I turned one today. It’s a pretty big milestone after a pretty crazy year,1 and I’m glad you were there to share it with me.

My family threw me a party. I think I have a picture here somewhere.


Just hanging out with my cousins!

My dad says I’m supposed to thank you because I wouldn’t have made it this far without you.2 So, thanks I guess!

Here’s hoping I’m potty trained before I turn two.3

  1. Not to i-toot my own e-horn, but I single-handedly elected a black man president. []
  2. My food comes out of your eyeballs. []
  3. Also, that I live to the ripe old age of two. []

Please excuse the mess

So I was updating WordPress and that Tumblr theme I was using is really old and well, you know how the internet is a series of tubes? Well something got stuck.

Everything should be in working order in a few days. Any suggestions?

Also, not to put any pressure on you guys, or even for a moment compare this hot mess to a legitimate, professional, put together, consistent, and intentionally hilarious website, but if this site got comments like this I might be inclined to post more often.

Just sayin’.

Success heaps in a happiness box.

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Legendary1 comedian Patton Oswalt speaks the Flying Spaghetti Monster’s Honest Truth on his myspace page.

I can personally vouch for everything he endorses with the exception of Friday Night Lights which is by now probably the only show I don’t watch on television. I’ll get to it soon.2 In fact, it’s to the point that I could have pretty much written this myself.3

One thing I do have over Mr. Oswalt is free time. Free time to find, edit and convert video proof of some of his claims for your viewing pleasure.

I’ve posted about Burn Notice before and if that didn’t make you want to watch it, then I’m sorry, but I can’t help you.

Jon Glaser is a hilarious writer and actor, that if you have any interest in comedy whatsoever, I’m sure you’ve seen or at the very least heard before. To me, however, he will always be Pubes. In Delocated, his character is in the witness protection program, never without a ski mask, and has had vocal chord surgery to anonymize his voice. The Russian mob has put out a contract on his life and this happens.

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And, of course, Eastbound & Down has now finished its very British season of six episodes and they all stand up. Proof:

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As amazing and blindingly dark as Danny McBride is on this show, Andy Daly steals just about every scene he’s in.

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Lastly, if I may interject my own less worthwhile opinion, and if by some retarded twist of fate, you’re not already watching 30 Rock you should change that. This is what you’re missing. On a weekly basis, even.4

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Back to more mundane matters.

Remember folks, those ads on the side aren’t just for feng shui. There’s some pretty sweet looking rehab ads up there right now, so you know, get on that.

And to my reader(s) in Huntington Park that’s stopped reading this site, I’m sorry if I’ve let you down. I’ll do better I swear.

Just tell me how I can fix this baby. We can get through this. You are tearing me apart.

  1. In the sense that I have constructed many mythologies where The General (I eventually muster up the courage to call him Patton) swoops in on his dragon steed, Grumpus and takes me on adventures where we fight ignorance and read comics and have sleepovers. []
  2. Clear eyes, full hearts, don’t worry. []
  3. If I were funny, articulate, or even remotely successful at, well, anything. []
  4. Because, clearly this show needs my help. []

Don’t call it a comeback

So my geriatric computing machine wasn’t working for the better part of a week, hopefully explaining my conspicuous absence.1

But, after days of tinkering with the infernal contraption and inserting and tweaking various widgets and doodads2, I finally managed to get it up and running. At three in the morning.

Now, a sensible, fully functioning adult would probably just thank Ammun-Ra and Wotan, brush their teeth, possibly rub one out3 and call it a night. An awesome motherfucker on the other hand, would just stay awake for the next 17 hours.

After spending more than six of those hours catching up on news and feeds and podcasts from the past four days, it occurred to me that I had no idea what I had done to finally fix my computer. The final solution, as it were,4 was something that I could have sworn I tried as soon as I realized there was a problem.5

In the midst of banging around firefox and laughing inconsolably at the state of reality television, I had a scary thought.

What if I never fixed anything.6

For a very uncomfortable fifth of a second, I doubted my own sanity enough to consider the possibility that I was sitting at my desk banging away at my keyboard and stifling my laughter, in front of a blank screen.

And people say computers rot your brain.

Nonsense.

  1. “He was gone?” “Yeah just play along.” []
  2. Who knew a computer’s nipples were called doodads? []
  3. As tribute to Ammun-Ra and Wotan. []
  4. Yep. I made a computer holocaust joke. []
  5. If only the same could be said for Hitler. Alright, I should probably stop. I have Jewish friend(s), I swear! []
  6. M. Night Shyamalan, you have met your match. []

Time Makes Fools Of Us All

2009 is not off to a great start. For one, I was absolutely smoked at Trivial Pursuit by a vastly inferior opponent.

For another, holy shit, it’s 2009! What’s that? January’s almost over? No, that can’t be. That would mean I wasted another lunar cycle of my life with nothing to show for it.

Crazy talk.

I’m 26, people. That’s how old Orson Welles was when he made Citizen Kane. Think about that for a second. The implications are as obvious as they are sobering.

This is the Citizen Kane of blogs.

Logic.

Let’s just hope my Huggies™ commercial is as successful as this one.

May the new year bring a much needed change in fortunes, and if all goes to plan, *fingers crossed*, the triumphant return of the Arch Deluxe.

Movers and shakers.

SkyNet knows me by name. Jealous?

The internet has already accurately guessed my sex.

And now it’s trying to get even further into my head.

INTP – The Thinkers

The logical and analytical type. They are espescially attuned to difficult creative and intellectual challenges and always look for something more complex to dig into. They are great at finding subtle connections between things and imagine far-reaching implications.

They enjoy working with complex things using a lot of concepts and imaginative models of reality. Since they are not very good at seeing and understanding the needs of other people, they might come across as arrogant, impatient and insensitive to people that need some time to understand what they are talking about.

I resent the implication that I am some sort of unfeeling monster blithely unaware of the havoc I wreak in others’ lives.

I’m very aware.

I’m deeper than most people think. On the surface I’m carefree and happy, but deep down inside, I’m intense and moody. I’m sensitive; I feel things.

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Pox Populi

Posting here has been somewhat lax as of late, but I’ve been sick. Also, I’m not getting paid for this shit.1

Which reminds me, I’ve been racking my brain trying to come up with new a revenue model, and while there are many tempting tried and true methods for using the internet to make money,


(via riot clit shave)

I have decided to go a more traditional route:


sponsorship.

I know the choice is a bit unconventional, but I remain convinced that this will prove a long and mutually beneficial relationship.

Humans, I’ve been doing this in earnest2 for half a year now. I think it’s time we got fucking serious. So I made a few changes around here.

First, some background.

A writer is someone for whom writing is more difficult than it is for other people.

- Thomas Mann

If this is the only criteria, then I no longer have any qualms about referring to myself as a writer.

This may come as an unwelcome shock to a few of you, certainly not the fine folks at Kimberly-Clark, but I consider some of what I do here writing “jokes”. The funny thing about “joke writing” though: the more you do it, the more your standards for what qualifies as a joke start to loosen. This is as much as a matter of practicality as it is of perception.

The problem being that it is almost impossible for me to objectively gauge anything I put up here. If I say it, of course I think it’s genius. Otherwise I wouldn’t say it.

How can you tell what shines brightest in a room filled with lusters?

In order to better serve you, my indifferent public, since none of you can be bothered to leave comments, what with that raging case of syphilis going around the internet, I figured I’d make it easier and just ask you outright.

{democracy:2}

I’ve also replaced a static, somewhat confusing popularity ranking for posts with an interactive voting system. I don’t expect anyone to go back through the archives, but if you just quickly scanned whatever’s on the front page, or if there’s a post you had particularly strong feelings for, of malice or otherwise, I’d appreciate a rating. It requires less thought that actually leaving a comment, since we all know how much it’s in short supply these days.

And I finally got around to finishing the about page only six months late. I do it for you guys. I do it all for you.

Back to all business as all usual.

  1. Oh and no one reads this. []
  2. Not to mention Verne. I bet some Huggies would come in handy right about now. []

Whoops!

Please excuse the generic mess. The old theme is apparently not compatible with the newest version of WordPress and I don’t feel like rewriting code all night, so I won’t. That’s what I get for trying to stay ahead of the curve. It will be fixed when it’s fixed. Got anything more to say on the matter? Huh?! Do you?


(via cuteoverload)

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Didn’t think so.

Quis custodiet ipsos custodes? Ego custodiam!

It might not seem like it, what with all our hard hitting political and civil rights coverage, but here at The Mediocrity Complex, or The ‘Plex as I like to call it, we have the entertainment tip covered too. Also, I don’t want to toot my own horn too much1, but this blog is big time stuff. If I owned or could legally operate a car, it would probably be like a Dodge Stratus. That’s the kind of big time stuff I’m talking about here.2

Which is why it should come as no surprise to learn that I am proud to present a new Mediocrity Complex exclusive footage of Dr. Manhattan in Warner Brothers’ Watchmen.

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No, but seriously, here it is:

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Crackling with pre-millennial tension and Shakespearean complexity, Watchmen is an exquisitely dense, multi-layered masterpiece that fully acknowledges the innate ridiculousness of superhero mythology—grown men dressing like animals to fight crime, the goofy costumes, the oddball supervillains and their outsized schemes, the undercurrent of kinky fetishism lying just under the surface of so many comics—while maintaining a sense of awe and wonder about its multi-layered creations.

At the risk of being slightly hyperbolic, Watchmen is such a monumental achievement that it makes Moby Dick look like a flaming pile of horseshit by comparison.

- Nathan Rabin

I am a fan of comics as an art form, as equally deserving of praise and scorn as novels, films, or centuries old epic poetry, and Watchmen is one of the most praised stories I have ever read. A recent trailer calls it “the most celebrated graphic novel of all time.” While that might be exaggerating things a bit, the hyperbole is again, slight.

Which is not to say it is perfect. No art is. But it, along with Maus and The Dark Knight Returns, all published in the same year no less, served to legitimize a previously ridiculed medium. Sam Raimi, Bryan Singer, Christopher Nolan and more recently Jon Favreau have all furthered the cause in this millennium.

The battle is not yet won however, for while comics may be fully legitimate, they are not yet fully respected. Hollywood will continue to gladly plumb the gutters of the comics industry, making millions in the process, but stories shouldn’t have to be adapted in order to be regarded as proper popular culture.

Which brings us full circle, as a film adaptation of Watchmen is set for release in a few months.

The best art comments on and fully makes use of its form. The best art makes you reconsider what art can do. As much as Watchmen was about, in addition to countless other things: the cold war, sexuality, science run amok, the perniciousness of advertising, what it means to be human, what it must feel like to be a god, the peril laden in trying to “fix the world” with either the best or the worst of intentions, the ballet between crime and those who seek to contain it, the hatred that binds us more firmly than love ever could, and the sheer, simple lunacy of being alive, it was also about every superhero comic and comic in general that had come before. It provided a synthesis of half a century’s worth of material and proof that the trappings of a story have little bearing on its merits, all the while employing virtually every trick and technique developed since the medium had been formalized, nearly a century prior.

Which is all to say that I remain skeptical of the possibility of this film living up to its pedigree. For it to truly be considered even in the same league as the source material, the film will have to broaden the horizons of filmmaking itself or at the very least completely rejigger your conception of what superhero films can be.

My hopes remain guarded. Let’s pray Zack Snyder can invalidate my fears.

In the meantime, stay tuned for more exclusive, breaking stories from Big Time Blog™ brought to you by the 2009 Mitsubishi Galant.

Still all business.

  1. Anymore than 3 times a day and I start to get dehydrated. []
  2. People are afraid of me. []

How long do you think it takes to get business cards printed up?

Pearls Before Swine

I’m straight spittin’ gold up in this piece

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Sound familiar?

It should:

After all, when Putin, safe in his Mordor Moscow stronghold, sets his all seeing eye upon the United States, what’s the first thing he’s going to see? Answer: Sarah Palin getting out of the shower.

Also, my google fu may not have been strong enough to find this a few weeks ago, but in the end I’m glad I didn’t.

Or else I wouldn’t have bothered with this.

I knew the joke was obvious, but I’m mostly just shocked my photoshop skills are slightly superior to, well, anyone’s.

So there you have it, folks. Proof that this website is at least as worth your time as ten seconds of Real Time with Bill Maher or one of 60,000 pages at BestWeekEver.tv.

Well, I guess that’s enough backslapping. It’s time to get back to work. Because we’re all business here.

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