Republicans and Democrats Debate “the Issues.” Sort of.

I’m not especially versed in politics. I know the basics: things like which amendment grants us the constitutional right to punch dolphins, or who that president was that bit the head off of a bat and got banned from the Alamo. But I’ve been doing a little reading on the internet of late, and I’m a little surprised. Now, I don’t know how many of you will have heard this, but there’s an election coming up.

Apparently, tensions are running incredibly high because, for the first time in history, a tiny alien in a white guy robot suit is facing off against… *gasp* a black guy. There are many calling this the most momentous election in recent history, and for good reasons.

Of course, I’m something of a newcomer to the world of political discourse, so I might not throw around words like “paradigm,” or “rock the vote,” or “flag.” But I’m bringing something of my own to the table: impartiality. I base this claim on the simple fact that I don’t like either of the major parties. I never really have.

In terms of campaigning, the issues don’t matter. Rather, it’s whoever can enforce their perception of whose fault those issues are that will win the day.

Politics is a matter of seizing the moral high ground. If you could replace Obama and McCain with the pure, unfiltered spirit of liberalism and conservatism respectively, then this is what I believe the debates would sound like: nothing but sniping, infighting, and the conspicuous lack of any sort of logic. Logic doesn’t win elections, after all. So everybody get ready for Joseph’s Political Jamboree (and Lobster Boil)! Read More »

A-list Actors Hug Polar Bears; World Is Saved (Not Really)

I find celebrities just a little presumptuous. Not all celebrities, really - mostly just the A-list actors. What bothers me isn’t their posturing, their preening, or their living in giant houses that God could not have possibly intended when He cobbled together our mudball of a planet.

After all, opulence is part of the job. Being an A-list actor involves just as much driving cool cars, laying around on expensive beaches, and panty-flashing as it does acting in movies, some of which are occasionally required to be good.

Good or not, the public loves seeing the same easily recognizable faces on the big screen. Why this is, I couldn’t really say, but I can say that most big studio movies in this day and age do not star actors.

Actors are people who convincingly and dramatically pretend to be other people. This sort of pretence, however, is impossible to a large degree for most A-list celebrities. Rather, they play themselves pretending to be other people. When all is said and done, celebrities are paid to be celebrities.

And that is fine. It makes me jealous, to some degree, that other people my age or younger are being paid vast sums of money for just being the sort of people that are paid vast sums of money. After all, I’ve never been paid simply for being myself (1).

While with enough therapy (I.e. drinking and befriending genuinely ugly people), I have learned to get past most of it, I’m still not entirely Zen on this subject. There are a few things about celebrities that get under my skin. Two, really. Read More »

Michael Phelps vs. The Large Hadron Collider

It’s been an amazing year so far, a year for records, accomplishments, and individual triumphs that have shaken the world. We all watched the Olympics, in which dedicated athletes would compete against the best in the world. It was a human drama filmed on different fields and in many arenas. But the themes were always the same: life-affirming victory, or crushing, alcoholism-inducing defeat.

The world in general, and the U.S. in particular seems to have fallen in love with Michael Phelps, the swimming champion who has, thus far, been much too busy with being famous to answer any of my letters. I have been writing to offer my sincere congratulations, and also to request a blood sample, which I plan to use to determine if he is actually part manta ray. His steadfast refusals at first angered me greatly, but now they only serve to make me more and more suspicious. However, whether he is fully human, or is in fact an unholy hybrid of sea creature and doomed man, we must applaud his many accomplishments.

The scientific community is having its own grand event this year. The activation and implementation of the Large Hadron Collider could literally change life as way we know it, by filling in any number of theoretical gaps and answering a horde of questions concerning the very nature of matter and reality. To this end, the LHC was officially fired up on September 10th.

I believe Michael Phelps and the LHC to be more alike than different. In its own way, the LHC is a champion, a brave young contender that will attempt to do what has never been done before. It also looks great in pictures, has a humble personality when interviewed, and will be making a guest appearance on “Entourage” this season.

The most important question then becomes immediately obvious. Who is the greater of the two? Is it Phelps, the wunderkind of the aquatic world? Or is it the LHC, who was worked on by over 8,000 physicists, and looks a lot like the machine that used to give orders to the Power Rangers? Let’s find out together! Read More »

On the Passing of a Hip Hop Icon

Today marks the passing of an artist and a legend. Some of us were able to call him our brother, or our son. Another five people called him husband. But one thing we could all call him was… “friend.”

L-Shock was taken before his time. Initial police reports indicate that he slipped on a stray banana peel, and then tragically fell onto roughly seventy large caliber bullets outside of a crowded circus. While the police have heard rumors of foul play, nothing has been made definite at this point.

Rather than mourn the passing of a titan, we at the network would like to celebrate with you the life of a legend. Read More »

Thanks, Hollywood! The Joy of Unneeded Sequels

We see it on blogs, websites, magazines. We hear it on radio shows. We even comment on it to each other. Believe me, I know how cliché it is to say that Hollywood is out of ideas. But in that same vein, it’s also cliché to say things like “Gravity points down,” or “1=1”. So you see what I‘m getting at.

Now, historically, Hollywood has always done one of two things: it has produced good movies or really bad movies. Some of the more baroque and stylistically bad movies were passed off as good movies, everyone swigged some red wine that they all secretly didn’t care for, and everyone did their best to ignore the fact that the Oscars should only be held once every four years. However, the new trend that has emerged in these last few years is far more forbidding.

These days, the directors and producers are all either remaking or producing horrible sequels to any film they can lay their grubby hands on. In effect, this takes every single movie from the past few decades and makes them all worse. The good movies we’ve enjoyed for so long are shot in the back of the head and toppled into unmarked graves near lonely metaphorical highways. The bad movies are actually brought back from the dead as slavering zombies, cursed in the sight of God (not a metaphor; every theater that played the new Pink Panther should have been required to sell wooden stakes and pieces of the One True Cross at the concession stand). Read More »

Terror in Bangalore

I wasn’t born in Bangalore. I don’t live there now. But ever since I was a child, it’s been the seat of my family.

I’ve smelled the jasmine and diesel in the air. I’ve seen the elections of civic-minded criminals, and heard the hurly-burly cry of Commercial Street for years. In short, I claim Bangalore as my own.

Eight explosions erupted across my city like weeping lesions yesterday.

According to all the news sources I can tap, the prime suspects in this matter are either the members of a banned student organization, the Students Islamic Movement of India, or the militant organization, Lashkar-e-Toiba. I don’t know enough about the nature or history of either group to even offer an opinion. And honestly, I can’t say that I care who eventually will claim the credit for all of this. Whoever it was, they’re no different than any other breed of savage.

Every time I go to Bangalore, I visit the Church of the Infant Jesus. It’s near the center of the city, a shy palace of stone and stained marble. Shall I tell you why it’s wonderful? Because, despite the name, it’s a shrine for every person of any faith. Read More »

I Play Grandpa Joseph

Why, hey there, boy! Good morning! And where are you off to? Why don’t you sit down for a few minutes with your grandpa? Oh, oh, sure. Your friends. Well, I’m sure I’ll still be here when you’re done playing Barbies with your little buddies.

No, of course you aren’t! Grandpa‘s only joking. No, you go right ahead, and I’ll be here when you get back. Or… I might not. Who knows? Now I don’t want to be one of those burdensome old people, so when it does happen, I’ll try to fall forward.

That way the cat won‘t be able to eat any of my face, and we can have a nice, open-casket affair. Would you like that? But here I am, babbling on. You were on your way to play with your little friends.

You will stay? Oh, why, that’s great. Sweet of you, staying just to talk with your old grandpa. So tell me about school. Hm. Interesting. And you’re in, what, the third grade? Well, well. So, answer me this: what would you do if you were in the middle of the ocean, and a whale was about to eat you? Read More »

The Traveler Hypothesizes

I’m traveling again. I’ve found that this sort of experience gives rise to much scientific thought. While many travel writers use the tried and true “stream of consciousness” approach, I prefer to use punctuation and not slaughter the English language because I’m incredibly lazy/”creative.”

Hypothesis: I will not find any bookstores open at 4 am, and will consequently be doomed to boredom for about 20 hours as I fly back to the States.
Conclusion: Hypothesis Rejected.
Results: As it turns out, the Bangalore airport might actually be the cheapest place to buy books. Not only does the mighty and domineering dollar stick the rupee’s head in the proverbial toilet, but I am pretty sure that nobody really “buys books at 4 am” at the duty free stores. Furthermore, I pick books in English, instead of Hindi or Kannada. The end result is that the guy at the counter literally just gives me the books. For the next two plane rights, I’ll split my time between reading The Godfather and watching The Game Plan about 2.5 times (I swear to God, just a single decent movie on a single flight would pretty much be the equivalent of the Mile High Club for me.)

Hypothesis: The British have mastered breakfast.
Conclusion: Hypothesis Confirmed.
Results: I actually gathered some delicious data on this during my trip to India. I had a breakfast of fried eggs, grilled tomatoes, sausage, and baked beans at an airport restaurant. Now, on paper, featuring the terms “baked beans” and “airport restaurant,” the experience sounds about as appetizing as a Bea Arthur sex scene. But frankly, it was awesome. It was a breakfast combination that just reaffirms the notion that the U.S. picked the right side in WWII.

Generally, in the U.S., my breakfasts consist of a) an apple, b) a waffle-styled entity that basically mugs me of insulin, or b) hopes and dreams. Sometimes, on occasion, there are omelets. Frankly, this is the biggest drawback to America that I have encountered so far. I’ve heard all of the criticism of our “national obesity epidemic,” and our blatantly outmoded sense of “cowboy diplomacy.” Frankly, in the face of grilled tomatoes and a sunny-side up, I just can’t see how any of that really matters.

Hypothesis: This baby will blink first. I am unbreakable Read More »

My Superhero Dream Team: Prepare For Glory!

Like most men, I have very limited insight into the higher neurological functions of the American female. So, as far as discussing the themes that women find appealing in their television and movies, I have to take a scientific approach and only hypothesize about why the ladies like the things they like.

I do know what escapist fantasies dudes harbor, and why. We crave excitement, adventure, speed, and an unprecedented level of nudity. We crave movies based on comic books or similarly unrealistic premises. And summer blockbusters love to oblige us.

They don’t delve into the possible downsides of being incredibly wealthy, intelligent, and having your own cybernetic battlesuit with rockets in the arms and emergency flares in the nipples. There’s just the right amount of adversity; a prosaic and straight-forward evil villain generally puts the hero in a tough spot, and then forces the hero to do something epic. Not so secretly, my ilk envies the hero. We would love to clench our fists and solemnly vow not to rest until justice is delivered to every ass within a 2 mile radius via our mighty feet.

But movies aren’t enough for me anymore. As a dude, the appeal of watching a crime-fighting, justice-avenging hero has simply become mundane. As such, I’ve designed my own super team.

I’ve put a lot of though into this. A lot. For instance, as many of you may not know, there is inevitably a rivalry between the team leader and the resident loose cannon that doesn’t play by the rules and goes his own way.

That will not be an issue here, however, as I plan to be both the leader and the loose cannon. I might sometimes disagree with myself, but I’m sure I’ll be able to resolve the issue by dropping giant boulders onto myself, and then watching them shatter on my abs. Additionally, my biceps will be named Zeus and Odin, and they will probably star in their own spin-off movies. Read More »

There and Back Again: My Trip to Orlando

I’m like a million other people: I’m at the airport, waiting for a flight. I packed last night, and even checked in on-line; it was all extremely organized. I’m that sort of person. Of course, I’m also the sort of person that you see hip-sliding across car hoods in the parking deck and vaulting over old ladies to get to class on time.

Sometimes, when I’m in an airport, or a mall, or any other sort of crowded place, I feel totally unique. This is, of course, ironic, because there are probably thirty or forty other people that feel the exact same way. I find this notion charming. If you can understand this – and perhaps you can – it makes me feel like a writer.

The people around me are a blend, a spectrum of human existence. I look at individuals, and see a few facets of their lives – and I feel like I know them. As different and anonymous as we all are, we are temporary siblings in the fraternal order of Those In Transit.

I do not know the elderly woman sitting across from me, but when we board the plane, there is every chance that our eyes will meet and we will attain an instant, unspoken understanding over the fact that this food would give diarrhea to a wharf rat. When my stomach burbles, signaling that the “chicken” I ate wasn’t exactly “dead,” and is plotting some sort of internal coup, hers will burble in sympathy. And when she gasps, wheezes and shifts over to relieve the pressure on that G-D sciatic nerve, I will do the same.

In short, I’m in a singular situation, and it’s awfully interesting from the perspective of a nosy bastard that likes to turn phrases.

Do you know why every comedian has at least a few things to say about airports? Because it’s just what a comedian does. I suppose it’s similar to the way that about 95% of police chow on donuts and hot dogs until they’re too overweight to protect or serve - it’s not necessarily important to the job, and it’s even kind of cliché, but you don’t just ignore tradition. But why exactly did airport mockery become a tradition?

I think it’s because airports are a common experience for all. Additionally – and this part’s important – airports are brimming with stupid. Making fun of airports is like playing chess with Nicole Ritchie, or arm wrestling a baby turtle, but I am not above any of those things. Read More »