Guilty Pleasures.

Blogging?
Chess?
Pumping iron with my tomboy future wife?
Greenday?
List making?
Monk episodes?
Starcraft?
Spinjas? Marblemaze? (my 10 year old guilty pleasures)
Finding a new band to join on craigslist (even after i'm in 4)

Sure, these are all valid. But for the sake of guilty pleasures of mine that could cause the most potential embarassment, lets go with online sports-oriented strategy games.

• Like this one. Hoops Dynasty .

• Or fantasy football.

• Or mock draft contests on saintsreport.com

• Or college basketball brackets.

This stuff does take up a large portion of many of my days. It's pretty much anti-social, offers minimal intellectual stimulation, and directs my time away from more important activities.

I'm aware of how ridiculous it is to try to defend such a waste of time, energy, and brainpower in one persuasive essay. However, I will defend the "guilty pleasure" as a necessary method of personal therapy.

We all know that our minds are complex, and the boundless complexities of our daydreams and urges lead us occasionally into a desire for a personal pleasure that cannot really be shared with compatriots or understood in daily conversation. Maybe this is due to embarrassment, or in my case, lack of people with common interest to share these pleasures with. Either way, if those needs can be met easily in our online, interconnected society, and those pleasures do not maliciously detract from the necessary actions for every day life, then I say, INDULGE YOURSELF! (but only to a healthy level)

Do not feel guilty for having guilty pleasures! For no two people are the same, and no two people find pleasure in ALL of the same activities. The reason feeding a guilty pleasure feels like scratching an itch is because a guilty pleasure is often an interest that contrasts with your everyday social norms. While it is obvious, and not a sign of a guilty pleasure at all, that a young music snob like me might go home and put on his Gang of Four record, it is not obvious that I might do that while compiling basketball statistics for my mythical Division II team that is on a mythical 4 game winning streak in my online basketball strategy universe. It's also not obvious that after I put on my Gang of Four record, I will very possibly re-listen to the Saturday Night Fever soundtrack, and potentially disco-dance alone, in my room, in my underwear.

Guilty pleasures define us more than our more obvious day-to-day interests that could be considered predictable given our age, sex, race, subculture, income level, religion, and location.
Enjoy them, they make you unique. Seriously.

Still playing catchup - cussing in sci-fi

"Bebop?? Bebop??? Where the frell are you?"
"I'm over at the port-a-let, having a poodoo, Shredder!"
"Bebop! This giant talking turtle just called me a Chrome Dome!"
"That Smurf! What a Nerf Herder!"
"Nerf Herder?? What the shock is a Nerf Herder, Bebop?"

Bebop was so taken aback by Shredder's lack of mastery of the English language as it relates to Sci-fi bad words, he almost muttered, "Farathoom", under his breath. However, if the slim chance occured in which the nearly illiterate Shredder had read Tanith Lee's obscure 1976 sci-fi thriller, "Don't Bite the Sun", then he would probably know that "Farathoom" meant "bloody fucking hell", and would retaliate with such vicious force that Bebop would be shredded to mince meat, and Shredder would have to find a new goon to protect him. Luckily, Bebop exercised caution, keeping his vulgar thoughts to himself.

"I think Krang said it once to his mom during that Dimension X sea cruise!", Bebop retaliated.
"Never mind that! This whole supervillian thing is hard! I can't say fuck or shit or motherfuck! I hate all these bullshit words that mask my true verbal intentions!"
"But our curse words are more creative, my Samurai Lord!"
"Still, I seem to be having tremendous difficulty with my lifestyle", Shreddler excla........

*poof*........and of course, as the non-Douglas Adams reading Shredder accidentally opens up yet another wormhole in the time-space continuum, Krang reappears, shazbots a brick, and finally tells Shredder to "Frak Off" for the last time.

Point:Counterpoint

Sven Kowalski, 24, Customer Service Representative, Lowe's, Peoria, Ill

Point: "Please come out and see my band!"

Come see my new original progressive grunge IDM progressive band, "Gilded by Trojan Horses, of Stefan". We go on at 9 PM this Wednesday night at the Pewter Pub on 7th and E. Chicago Ave. Having toiled laborously for four years creating original soul/prog/punk with influences that predate Bill Withers' third record while pulling from the raw clostrophobic energy of Gang of Four's seminal "Entertainment" and the latter half of Television's "Marquee Moon", and combining those influences with Fela Kuti's post prison years and pre and post Public Enemy New York hip-hop, "Gilded by Trojan Horses, of Stefan" combine all of those influences in creating a new psychadelic-tinged dance sound reminiscent of Pere Ubu's "The Modern Dance" crossed with the ambient instrumental tracks on Moby's "Animal Rights", as well as a subtle hint of the disco Beetoven influence from the Saturday Night Fever soundtrack.
And, for one night only, we will be playing our epic new record, "Get off my couch, mother earth, I'm dying in here, for thine is the kingdom" featuring the 17 minute epic, "GXJ 650", dubbed by the Dayton daily reader as "A song that is very involved, and has a lot of parts". We are also honored to be opening for Champaign's own "Swami Rama", featuring former Ammonium Nitrate Disasters lead frontman David Baab!
Please come out! The show is free, and the beer is cheap!





Yarely Horstman, 25, Sales Associate, Lowe's, Peoria, IL
Counterpoint: "Yeah, I'll try to make it out if i can"

Thanks for inviting me out, Sven. No, really! Frannie who works over down at Kinko's down there down the block already invited me to the 80's night over at the Red Horse Saloon down on 9th, and I heard they got some mad kareoke party up on 13th, next to the barber shop. I think Freddie and Mike from work are hitting up this kegger as well, but I really never seen yo band before, so I might try to check it out if all of my other options dont work out. Of course, I also got to clean my living room, my ma and pa might be stoppin by next week, and that can get stressful and all if they come see me with a dirty house. Plus that bitch who claimed I fed her roofies and shit at that party is really stressing me out, tryin to claim that she's got a grounds for a lawsuit and all that, so I don't know, I'm kind of stressed and all and I don't know if I would really get the experience. You know, just tell me when you playin next, cuz I do got a lot of shit going on. There's also dis U2 cover band goin on over at Nikki's on Constance.
I know I haven't been seen your band yet, but I heard that that magazine said that one song by the Trojan Hoses of Stefan is pretty good, and i been meanin to check it out.
Oh, and by the way, thanks for coverin me on the sales floor during my lunch break. Sorry I didn't tell you about that crazy plywood freak, I think he's bipolar or somethin.

guys i'm sorry

No internet at the house all of a sudden = very minimal bloggage.

I have to go to a coffee shop or a library to do this, and it's been a very busy week. I'll try to catch up, or hopefully the wireless in my hood starts working again. Right now, the lack of internet access + working 7 days a week (2 jobs) in lieu of the upcoming wedding is making this very difficult.

Let's hope I can catch up in the coming days!

-b

Too many puppies, with guns in their hands. Too many puppies in foreign lands.

Apologies for not posting every day. My life is phenomenally busy this week and I will be catching up. I love these assignments!

As a dog-lover, and having been raised with between 2 and 7 dogs in the house at all time, I will pay tribute to the Bunch Family Dawg Pound.

My mother rescues dogs for "Hope for Animals", a non-profit in Houma, Louisiana. This is her true passion. She often fosters these abused pups, many of which have been beaten by their owners or hit by cars.

The amusing cycle in the Bunch household goes like this. My mom fosters a new dog. My father says, "We can't keep another one, Ellen. We already have too many." This debate will be a point of contention around the house for a while. Two to three weeks will inadvertently pass, and then my father will predictably fall in love with said canine, and then there will be another member of the Bunch clan.

Now, my mom is not just another empty-nester looking to fulfill her nurturing needs by taking care of as many dogs as possible (though that is one motivation) - she is a true dog-lover. My OCD mother, a woman that never lets me eat dinner without using handwipes, a woman that makes sure I open a public bathroom door with a paper towel, will get down and dirty in the nastiest of ditches for a frightened puppy.

Short writeups of the Bunch clan are indeed in order
........from left to right....Ginger, Cocoa, Boy Dog, Sasha, Momma Dog, and Missy. Yoda (RIP) not pictured.

Cocoa Bunch is the true alpha dog of the group. Born in 1991, she is 18 in human years, which would make her 126 in dog years. She is now half-blind and deaf and suffers from a mysterious condition called "Old Dog Vertigo". In her younger days, she would howl on command when you said her name. She would sleep in your bed, curl up next to you, and then once she got into her comfy position, growl if you moved at all. She still believes she runs the house, though she now has no idea what the fuck is going on.

Ginger Bunch is the runt. About 13 in human years, Ginger has always been noticably tiny (never over 10 pounds). Of all the pups, her company is probably the least enjoyable, due to her impressively bad breath (which we call Ginger-vitis) and her penchant for rolling over and urinating on herself whenever a stranger comes into the house. In a pack of possibly the least brave, most spoiled dogs in South Louisiana, she's the doormat of the group.

Missy Bunch is the gregarious over-eating attention-grabbing one. If any of the other six dogs sits on your lap, Missy will jump on your lap as well, often knocking the other dog on the ground. If you pet another dog next to her, she goes completely crazy.

Boy Dog Bunchis very territorial (being the only boy), and extremely playful as well. A ball of energy, yet deathly afraid of some of the kitchen cabinets for some unknown reason.

Sasha Bunch is my sister's little pup. My sister never hesitates to tell me that the word Sasha means "defender of mankind". Sasha can't even defend her dog treats from the other dogs in the family, but she's still super-lovable.

Mamma Dog Bunch, the alpha-dog in waiting, is of an unknown age, and was sadly abused badly by her previous owner. She has a bullet in her paw, and is basically a tripod, as one of her legs is pretty much broken. For about 6 months, she was scared to death of anyone that made quick movements anywhere near her, but now, she's nothing but a cushy ball of love.

Senryu

Blue eight bit robot man
shoots white dots at machines
greatest game ever

By a tender age
Techno villains I did defeat
and garnish their weapons

Quick man, such a bitch
laser beams everywhere
freeze the screen to win

A tear to my eye
evoked from Spark Man's theme
what a dork am I

Nintendo-core
the most socially relevant
musical subgenre

4-5. How to save the world in 4 minutes.

How would I save the world in 4 minutes. (This is assuming authoritarian executive power)


1. Executive order. Fund the shit out of U.S. public schools. Teachers start at 60k. Allow schools to exist as a place of varied learning, alloting classes for young students in trades and arts. End standardized testing as a sole method of grading a school's success. Allow students to flourish in the various talents that they hold, which are often ignored in the public school system.
2. Make illegal the use of auto-tune in popular radio music.
3. Repeal capital punishment (exceptions can be made for those that still continue to use auto-tune in popular music). In fact, disallow any government from having the right to kill people for any reason.
4. Place a giant invisible comfortable blanket over the circumference of the earth to protect us from the effects of global warming.
5. Somehow convince all religious sects across the world that their "holy land" is somewhere in southeast Louisiana. It would be great for the ailing economy, but maybe not so much for the murder rate.
6. Continue to promote my rock band, "The Distant Seconds", throughout the world. We will bring peace and unity to all societies, communities, and species, especially with the unleashing of our new power ballad, "I'm here for Your Severed Head".
7. Ice cream every day.
8. Somehow end the commodification of art, ideas, and thoughts.

A day late on this one, but not a dollar short.

sorry for the late response. I'll catch up. Busy day yesterday.

30 days of write question submitted to me on April 4th. "You wake up today and you are in the late 1800s. Your life is completely devoid of all of the technological comforts that we hold dear. No cell phones, no laptops, no Facebook, no television. What is your day like? Do you actually make it through the day without committing suicide?"

If I was to turn suicidal, it would have nothing to do with the loss of technology, and everything to do with the fact that, shit man, it's 1880, where is my family? Where are my friends? How did I get here?

I understand, however, that this is a hypothetical (albeit a difficult one to comprehend)

Suspending disbelief, if I am in the late 1800s all of a sudden (for one day), I would not just enjoy it, I would relish it. Everyday interpersonal interaction with people would mean so much more. I might not really like living in the reconstruction era, however, and I might be utterly confused.

You see, the real point of this blog has very little to do with my answer to this question, and apparently more to do with my pitiful lack of ability to suspend disbelief.

My answer to this question depends on what I really understand this question to mean. Here are some potential answers (kind of like a choose-your-own-adventure blog)

• No technology, no memory of the 21st century, different family and friends in the late 1800s : Fine with me (but would I have ingrained knowledge of the necessary tools needed for daily life in a pre-Industrial Revolution society? I'm not very good with a plow, I presume)
  

Potential for suicide rating: 0.1/10

• Magically arriving in the late 1800's for one day, then returning to 2009 in South Austin the next day : I wouldn't handle the no family and friends thing very well. I also think that the experience would be very strongly affected by the part of the world that I would be living in for that one day. Let's just say hanging out in Vicksburg, Mississippi in 1871 would be a bummer.
  

Potential for suicide rating: 2/10

Potential for spending the day at the racetrack, betting on events in which I know the outcome of, and raking in the dough: 9.5/10

• Magically arriving in the late 1800's, not knowing how you got there, and with no idea if you could ever return to the present: Again, with no concern over missing Facebook or television (maybe the band Television, but not the actual Television), I would freak the shit out. I would not see my fiance, my family, my bands, etc. In addition, I am probably pretty poor at farming, and the plumbing would really piss me off.

Potential for suicide rating: 5/10

Potential for spending the day at the racetrack, betting on events in which I know the outcome of, raking in the dough, acquiring incredible wealth, and seeing lots of wonderful operas: 8/10

My Dream House

It's simple. My dream house would be a cozy log cabin home nestled in the woods, yet close enough to a city for immediate transport. The house would have a room for my music studio and a game room. The back yard would be substantial, with an organic neighborhood garden that friends would feel free to come by and watch their crops grow.
It would be in a place in which I could see a large amount of stars at night.

Pain

I grind my teeth viciously every single night, gradually assuring myself not only a morning of powerful, thick headaches, but also a full, long life of dental work. I do this because I always internalize my continuous tension, and this internalization allows me to give off a mirage of a calm demeanor. I don't scream, don't explode in anger, don't punch walls, don't smash bottles.......all I do, when tense, is take it out on my poor teeth.
I've tried mouthpieces, to no avail. My mouth just fills up with saliva and I spend my first moment of the next morning just drinking a long night's worth of spit. The headaches are large in scope - a pounding, encompassing, skill splitting, yet dull pain.

I rarely bitch about this. After all, I'm a man, right? I had to think very hard about the answer to this "pain" question, because I tend to ignore my physical pain as much as possible. It's just not manly to talk about how much you hurt. While nobody likes to spend time with those constantly bringing up their injuries in conversation, it's probably nearly as unhealthy to internalize all pain.

My Intention

Starting today, April 1st, I have joined somewhat of a writing cooperative, "30 days of write". The link to this blog is at http://30daysofwrite.blogspot.com/. A group brimming with 20 and 30-somethings that desperately miss their college non-fiction writing courses, "30 Days of Write" is perfect for me for this time in my life.
Some people, while well-intentioned, lack the internal motivation or direction to write, read, pump, and flex those sexy brain muscles. By some people, I probably am referring to myself. If spending my last four-years post-college slaving full-time in the food service industry didn't atrophy those mental muscles, then i'm sure that my zombification was caused by a combination of beer, playing and listening to excruciatingly abrasive music, and lack of "free time" to read and learn due to the challenges of daily life.
My motivation is two-fold

• by finding the time to be creative, this will help me appreciate the importance of taking time out to vent, create, amuse, or ramble. Having a venue for personal expression is enormous.
  
• I could really use the practice. I used to do some excellent fiction and non-fiction writing in the university setting. I don't know why I dropped it after '04, but it's time to pick it back up. I've picked up a few bad habits, and it's time to pick up a good one.
  

My Brothers and sisters, let's reach out to one another! Comment on each other's writings. Let's keep ourselves active and thinking. Do it!

("Black" from Pearljam is currently coming out of a neighbors jukebox. I can't not love that song. Nostalgia has always had me by the balls, it seems. )

-much love
-B