june 14 2000
i'm calling today's entry:
person vs. persona.
or, the kid you think is mad thuglicious likes to sit on his ass and make origami.
i'm also calling it television: a critical assessment of semiotics and intertextuality in passive media consumption
or the kid who uses the big words is sitting on his ass and watching television right now.
see, i was going to deal with the first topic, especially in light of a possible upcoming small confab of sorts, including yours truly and some other notable online personalities out there, but since the pacers game is on i'll just eat my utz potato chips--since the lemon-spinach couscous i made was apparently made with real lemon, and ungodly amounts of lemon at that, and thus was a bit, how you say, unpalatable--and be, as my grandmother used to call me when i was being one, a wisenheimer. if it looks a little odd, keep in mind that it rhymes more with "my vagina," than it does with "wizened hymnal." the fact that my grandmother and the word "vagina" appear that close to each other is a lot harder for me right now than it is for you. trust me. so let's begin. oh, and i'll deal with the idea of meeting other online journal people tomorrow.
1. there are now officially too many "true" commercials. by this, i mean legitimate productions of budweiser, not superfriends or south park or elian versions (note: if this were a blog, all of these would have been linked to the actual commercial. i respect yo' bandwith.) currently circulating throughout the capillaries of the body politic. one was good. one was great, actually. the first time i saw the original back in december, i immediately called my boy eric to tell him about it, because a small group of my friends had a shockingly similar way of greeting each other. it was more of a "whutuuuuuuuuuuuuuup" than a "wazzzzzzzzzzahhhhhh," but it utilized an equal amount of buffoonery and facial distortion. in fact, for a short time we harbored a burning suspicion that the budweiser creative team had actually seen us doing this, then hired four more archetypally funny (the fat guy, the afro guy, the funny-looking boring guy, the gq-shmoov guy) characters to co-opt our "thing." in my own way, though, i'm all of these in one. my own way happens to be completely non-literal, i should point out.
2. microsoft just spent 30 seconds worth of nba championship time to quell the rumors that bill gates has developed some sort of charisma. wow. money just sat in my living room telling me about his company's forthcoming software and managed to make al gore and martha stewart look like the last of the red-hot hottentots. gates is too easy a comic trope, i realize this, but he actually does remind me of that little paper clip character who pops up when i want to make an envelope label. of course, his obscene personal net worth makes him an obscene personal amount more evil than clippy. fuckin' clippy, man.
3. on a more anatomical note, shaquille o'neal has transcended the constraints of humanit and become a higher order of leviathan marine life. well, either that or grimace. maybe glen rice could be mayor mccheese and austin croshere could be the hamburglar. i'm done talking about sports now. for a very brief time, i thought that i wanted "mayor mccheese" to be a secondary nickname of mine. i mean, sure, now i realize how bizarre that is, but you have to admit that hearing someone shout "hey, mayor mccheese!" across a crowded room and being able to turn around and acknowledge them would send a small frisson through your half-meat half-cheese torso.
you make the call
4. taco bell has taken to describing a particular dish as "a stone cold mucho nacho monster that will rock your little world." i wish i could adequately express how that makes me feel. a stone cold mucho nacho monster that will rock your world. obviously, i take contention with the use of the phrase 'rock your world,' which employs 'rock' as a verb. also, 'mucho nacho' is the kind of quasi-alliterative half-rhyme that makes me cringe. then, there's the anthropomorphosis that renders a pile of chips and cheese able to impose a reign of terror, or at least warrant some sort of awe from bystanders. you can now ignore the second sentence in this paragraph.
5. there is absolutely nothing wrong with the idea of a sumo wrestler winning a major marathon. in fact, featuring such an event makes for a flawless commercial. even if i have no idea what that commercial is for. beatific fatties should be much more prominent than they are, frederick's of hollywood catalogs notwithstanding. every time i see that sumo wrestler hotstepping toward the finish line, i think "if things that big can move that fast, then that continental drift shit is gon' be a bitch."
to recap: wizened hymnal. beatific fatties. thank you.
p.
and yo. my full-on venture kneejerk.net is up and running, though not nearly full. go and getcha read on. for me.
props to darkcounter.com
and sitemeter