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The AbsurdistThe Absurdist

Friday, April 30, 2004
  This week in Regret goddamn...

Don't get me wrong, this week in Tokyo has been absolutely smashing: the great restaurants, neon spectacles and English language atrophy has been nothing shy of splendid. However, over there in the western hemisphere, my usual stomping grounds, I feel unique opportunities have passed me by. The following is a collection of things I would have loved to have done, but, for reasons of "time" and "space", could not.

TORONTO: Highly esteemed spiritual leader, the Dalai Lama, grants a special audience of blessing and compassion at the epicentre of Monster Truck Rallies, sloppy joes, and pop concert bacchanalia: the Toronto Skydome. [notes via Accordian Guy]

NEW YORK: P. Diddy, but marquee me Sean Combs, debuts on the Broadway centre stage and gets a right proper Hazing in the Sun. [critics bile compiled via Gawker] [opening night A-List via New Yorkish]

NEW YORK: Dressing up for the Costume Institure Gala Awards: Renee Zellweger in Caroline Herrerra, Hugh Jackman in Dolce & Gabbana, Lucy Liu in Ungaro, The Absurdist in Target. [via Fashion Week Daily]

INDIO: This weekends mammoth California outdoor Coachella Festival: Radiohead, the Pixies reunited, the Cure, Air, Kraftwerk, countless other headliners and buzz bands. Oh just shut up. [regret shared by Boing Boing]
 

Tuesday, April 27, 2004
  Air Stockings sweeping the nation

What are all those hip Japanese kids getting all fired up about in Shibuya? On a recent trip to the Far East, I was fortunate enough to experience the miracle of Air Stockings, "a fine, silk aerosol spray" used to lacquer up one's legs to give the illusion of wearing pantyhose. Savvy Japanese women are gobbling the product up.

They're waterproof, tear proof and remarkably convincing.

However there are several drawbacks:
- Air Stockings can mark up clothing, so one must be careful during applications.
- Air Stockings cannot be used to tie a lover's hands behind their back when engaging in spirited role play. Nor gag a miscreant submissive. (safe word: banana)
- Air Stockings are notoriously unfit for use in smash and grabs, street muggings or bank robberies. The spray format simply lacks the ability to constrict facial features into a non-recognizable contortion. Although it gives thugs a silky, even complexion.
- You can't strain chicken stock with Air Stockings.
- You can't fill an Air Stocking with nails and swing it at pesky stray cats.
- No static zapping around the office.
- No more stocking removal strip teasing. With Air Stockings, it's more of a vigorous soap and water Turkish scrub down.

Despite these obvious drawbacks, there is a place in the world for Air Stockings. The reassurance that you go about your day with little fear of an awkward or embarrassing tear in your $25 SPANX Power Panty Stockings (by Nordstrom) can only be replaced with the reassurance that one will be ripping open a polar ice-cap sized, cancer inducing tear in the ozone layer.

Next up, the spray on condom.
 

Friday, April 23, 2004
  Emergency brainstorm session, offices of M. Ciccone-Ritchie

Memo:

To: Madonna, Maverick Records
From: The Absurdist, strategic consultant
Date: April 23, 2004
Subject: those jerks at Warner Music calling in the $92.5 million tab

The following is a series of recommendations to a) neutralize the threat of evil arch-nemesis Warner Music with their impetuous reluctance to be sued for $200 million, and b) get Maverick Records back into black from being the red ink spilling open gash sucking more money than Anna Nicole Smith at Texas retirement party.

Ideation:

i) Subsequent to the cashing in of tepid, mid-charting singles repackaged as GHV2, release a series of GHV3, GHV4, GHV5 and GHV6 with tracks that have remotely even brushed the Billboard 100. Consider it the equivalent of the cycling Mexican economy- Need more money? Print more pesos!

ii) Have a third children's book ghost written by an elderly British woman with literacy problems and a knack for ham-fisted preachiness. The first two seemed to sell like hotcakes to an unsuspecting public of slack-jawed lemmings.

iii) Redub the Madonna Re-Invention Tour to the more appropriate Madonna Re-Financing Tour. Jack floor seat prices from a smash and grab $300 to a pillage and plunder $1200. You've been gang-raping gay culture for the past 20 years. Why stop now at gang-raping gay wallets?

iv) Forget about Britney and Christina. You've unsuccessfully tried to lure them away from their respective labels with promises of lucre and lesbianism. It's time to woo the Duffster. Get Hillary and bring home that wholesome treasure trove lined with line extension after line extension.

v) Unleash Sex 2: Sexier. But for this round of the erotic picture book, replace the leather bondage motif with tantric Hollywood mysticism, photographer Steven Meisel with Terry Richardson and Vanilla Ice with Clay Aiken.

NOTE: It is under strong advisement that you consider the following:

- Declaring bankruptcy is far less humiliating than a repeat appearance in another GAP ad.

- You cannot remix Don't Cry For Me Argentina any more times. It is just no longer possible.

- It is too late to cash in on the cone bra. Leave it be.

- It's probably too late to work with Linda Perry and/or the Matrix.
 

Wednesday, April 21, 2004
  Being Kevin Spacey

Inspired by Kevin Spacey's recent dog walking, mugging, recinding mugging incident, I decided that I should walk my dog in Geraldine Mary Harmsworth Park in South London at 4:30 in the morning. My hope is to gain deeper insight in the acclaimed thespian's headspace. Being a rising star of stage and screen myself, I hold Mr. Spacey's acting chops in the highest regard. If all us dedicated to the craft of acting and media insistent heterosexuality could emulate Mr. Spacey's daily routine, perhaps than we all could be as talented as he. Arming myself with a mini tape recorder and miniature toy poodle, Fefe, I set out the South London park to become the actor.

The following are the verbal memoirs of my experience of Being Kevin Spacey:

04:30- "It's really dark out now. Fefe seems to not want to pee at all in this park. She is starting to whine and I'm getting the Blair Witch feeling."

04:33- "No sign of anyone approaching. At this hour it seems outrageous that anyone would be out in the cover of night unless they were looking for something specific. Fefe is still agitated. Pee, dammit dog, pee!"

04:45- "Ho hummm. Still no sign of anyone. I'm getting a strange feeling that there are people out there, lurking and checking me out. Like they're waiting to pounce. But not a scary "I'm going to mug you for your cell phone and bonk you on the head" feeling. I can't quite describe it yet."

04:58- "Fefe is really getting agitated. She's literally shaking and walking funny. Her hind legs are all tight like they have rigor mortis. Like she's chenching her ass together. I should take her to the vet about that."

05:03- "What was that? Fefe did you hear that? There's a strange slurping noise coming from behind that tree in the distance. I can't quite figure it out, but it sounds wrong. As I move closer, I hear a strange zipping noise and the hurried patter of running shoes and ducking behind bushes. I pursue knowing Fefe will provide support in fending off any threat of thuggery."

05:04- " Gone. I see nothing. It's still very dark so they could be anywhere really. I remain alert and patient."

05:10- "There! Rustling in the bushes!"

05:11- "Goodness! A strange man has emerge and is approaching. I grip Fefe's leash ready to swing the small dog like a bull whip at a moment's notice."

05:12- A dialogue ensues:

Man: "Hey man. How's it going."

The Absurdist: "Not bad. Nice night to walk a dog."

Man: smirkingly "Yeah, real nice."

The Absurdist: with sly inquisitiveness "You don't seem to have a dog out with you tonight. What are you doing out here tonight?"

Man: "Looking for a little action. You?"

The Absurdist: "I guess you could say that."

Man: gestures to bush "I think I could offer you a little bit of that."

The Absurdist: ....

Man: touches the front of my cotton Eddie Bauer chinos "Are you ready for a little action?"

The Absurdist: "Is this when you take my phone?"
 

Tuesday, April 20, 2004
  I would like to kick alanis morrisette's ass for fucking up irony. why didn't she screw up onomatopea instead?

Alanis Morrisette is some kind of deranged lunatic. She has, what corporate HR people like to refer to as "blind spots." As in, your work is excellent, your results are outstanding, you have achieved things that others dream of being able to achieve over the entirety of their miserable, mediocrity-ridden lifetimes but you will be prevented from advancing. The reason is because you have "blind spots."

"Blind spots." It's very vague, indeed. Not too actionable. Not to helpful, either. So I will endeavour, in the course of this essay, to provide a perfomance improvement action plan for Alanis Morrisette so that she may be a better person, a better employee, a better human unit for a better human race. Because your improvement, my dear Ms. Morrisette, is in our collective best interest.

Blind Spot #1: Learn the English language. Obviously, you need to brush up on your figures of speech. Irony is not coincidence. It just isn't. I will not have the same conversation with you that was scripted in the 90's Generation-X Mall-ywood cinema nouveau classic, Reality Bites. Do not force me to assume the tone of Ethan Hawke. I hate it when i sound like that, especially without my green cardigan on.
Action Step: Never speak of irony again. Not even in song. Especially not in song.

Blind Spot #2: Showing off your nudie is neither shocking nor original. Thank goodness for the Gaussian Blur. If not, your video for "Thank-You" would have been an eye searing brunette carpet fest instead of the adolation to your vaguely potato shaped figure meandering around Anyville, USA trying desperately not to trip over your straggly, greasy hair. Puh-lease, Alanis - shock me shock me with that deviant behaviour. The only thing shocking is some copyright lawyer didn't sue you for riding off on Lady Godiva's horse. But then again, Alanis is no stranger to being told, "you can't do that on television."
Action Step: Get a personal trainer or keep your kit on.

Blind Spot #3: Showing off your nude suited body with giant cartoon nipples is actually kind of ridiculous. Janet showed real titty. The whole nude suit thing at the Juno Awards is so half assed, it just reeks of amateurishness parading as learnedness. Wrong has acheived a whole new level. Oh wait.. refer to Blind Spot #1.
Action Step: Go full on or go fuck off.

Blind Spot #4: Angry is so over. Jagged little pill is so schticky. Supposed former infatuation junky is so muddled. Why not actually string something coherent together in a playful, positive manner?
Action Step: Bitter is the new jilted. Anger is so mid 90's bull dyke protest rally. Get back on track with passive non-confrontationalism. Assume things will blow over. Turn the other cheek. Or better yet, have HR do your dirty work.
 

Monday, April 19, 2004
  When others try to "get" me while in an awefully pissy mood

The Absurdist on Feedback:

The Absurdist on Hipsters:

The Absurdist on Dieting:

The Absurdist on Aging:
 

Monday, April 12, 2004
  Possible consequences of eating spoiled yoghurt

Consequence #1: Gas
Course of Action: Ingest anti-flatulence drug. Seek "alone time."

Consequence #2: Dizziness
Course of Action: Lie down. Stand up quickly. Repeat.

Consequence #3: Vomiting
Course of Action: Induce vomiting.

Consequence #4: Dementia
Course of Action: Obtain house-coat. Dress. Wander.

Consequence #5: Live Bacterial Possession
Course of Action: Get priest. Exorcise.

Consequence #6: Nothing
Course of Action: Resume eating. Do not waste food.
 

Sunday, April 11, 2004
  Absurd is the new absurd

A collection of 'new' replacing tired, worn out and woefully overexposed.
 

Tuesday, April 06, 2004
  Never leave your Instant Messenger unattended

When you go to a public internet cafe and sign into your instant messenger, ensure you do not leave that cafe without signing out of said instant messenger. Very bad. Very very bad. Some strange bastard could easily come by and violate your entire address book. Fortunately, abused IM conversation logs are fun to review. For example:

IM Usurper Episode 1:

(fake) The Absurdist: Mom. I'm gay.

Mom: I knew it.

(fake) The Absurdist: You did?

Mom: yes.

(fake) The Absurdist: I want a sex change.

Mom: you always looked better in dresses.

(fake) The Absurdist: i want huge tits.

Mom: if you're going to be a woman, you might as well have big tits.

(fake) The Absurdist: do you still love me?

Mom: do I have a choice?

(fake) The Absurdist: stop judging me.

Mom: to judge, I first need to care

(fake) The Absurdist: I'm actually not your son. I'm a stranger in an internet cafe. this IM account was left open.

Mom: again, still not caring

(fake) The Absurdist: You people are messed up

Mom: it's nice that you care enough to judge

(fake) The Absurdist: this is too weird.

end session.

*"Mom" may or may have not actually been "Mom".
 

Monday, April 05, 2004
  Decoding Detail Magazine's "Gay or Asian" article

Apologies. I have not written all day. I have recently returned from a day trip in outer space as a test pilot for President Bush. He's really taken this whole Mars travel to heart. He must really miss home. I must tell you, that whole "The Great Wall of China is visible from outerspace" talk? It's total bullshit. Those crazy scheming Asians sure had me fooled. But who am I to talk? I am one quarter Asian on my mother's side (my father, a faded Hollywood leading man who earned the padding to my trust fund by being overdubbed in Japanese while endorsing canned "Pork Of The Sea" Whale blubber, was a Far East frequenter). With private schooling in Shanghai for 2 of my formative pre teen years, I fear I was both duped and blind perpetuator of the myth of the Great Wall. I guess you can't always believe what you read in a censorship state textbook hell bent on mind control and cultural revolution.

Speaking of not always believing what you read, I am puzzled by the recent and somewhat oblique article from Details Magazine. In response to their whole "Gay or Asian" item, I had to write them a rather terse missive demanding an explaination. My letter is as follows:

Dear Details,

I am responding to your recent article entitled Gay or Asian written by Whitney McNally. I am unclear on what exactly this article is supposed to mean. I would like to take this opportunity to understand specifically what you mean by the following statements made or suggested about Asian people:
    "One cruises for chicken, the other takes it General Tso-style."
What exactly does that mean? General Tso-style? Is that in reference to a hot and spicy poultry dish? If that's the case, I'll need to bring some Tums. It's delicious but can sure give you the burns something fierce! Or do you mean the war-mongering Chinese general that trumped rebels, revolts and reconquored lost lands? Because if that's the case, I don't think General Tso "took" anything of the sort. He was reputably very no nonsense. And who "cruises" for chicken? Is that what the cool hip readers of magazines like Details call take out? You Details people was so 'down' to the fancy street lingo!
    "Whether you're into shrimp balls or shaved balls, entering the dragon requires Imperial tastes."
Again, you seem to be mixing food references with things that I'm not quite sure are other food references. If I'm not mistaked, I think you mean shaved coconut coated rum balls which are quite delicious to the lips, but all trouble on my hips! And what about entering the dragon? Is that not the kung-fu contest that Bruce Lee competed in to the death? That crazy island guy had all those scary hand attachments, like fuzzy bear claws and sharp ginsu knives! If that's the case, no way. I ain't going near the dragon, and I don't care how good the desserts taste.
    "So choke up on you chopsticks, and make sure your labels are showing."
This sentence made no sense to me. Maybe "brush up" on you chopstick technique? They are very hard to master. And why would I make sure my labels are showing? If I have bad chopstick technique and I spill food on myself, will someone need to see the fabric care label on my clothes?
    "Study hard, Grasshopper: A sharp eye will always take home the plumpest eel."
I guess this one makes some sense, but you can't really fish for eels by eye sight. They tend to live pretty deep in the ocean, unless you find them in an aquarium at the fish market. Then you can easily spot the nice ones. But they're usually sold by the weight, so the bigger you get the more expensive.
I've done my best to understand what Whitney has written. Still, I don't think it makes any sense. In truth, I think Whitney may be a little touched. But just in case I am mistaken, please correct anything I may have gotten wrong.
Yours truly,
The Absurdist
 

Thursday, April 01, 2004
  This week in Absurdity goddamn...

The shit that made me howl:

1. Banterist tries to outwit, outplay, outlast Saddam Hussein in Saddam's interrogation Logs...

2. Eurotrash skewers New York Times restaurant critic and sworn nemesis Amanda Hesser in a mock Gothamist Interview...

3. A newly resurrected Neal Pollack (he's back... and he's pissed) finds Anti-Christ in the popular Christian lit "Left Behind" series...

4. Manhattan Transfer instructs on how to deal with your girlfriend...

5. Bunsen's intimate portrait of an inner-demon-dueling Michael Jackson courtroom sketch artist...

6. And in a bout of self-referential self-loathing, The Absurdist renames and re-maims his blog...
 

  Alternative Blog Names

Other possible names for the blog currently know as The Absurdist:
(all cliches are either entirely intentional or purely incidental, depending how post-post-ironic* one is feeling today)

*post-post-ironic is used ironically**

**suckers
 

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