Brain Poops

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…You Are Not Your Fucking Khakis

Another year has passed with another Thanksgiving to stretch our belts, and with the looming weekend comes that holiday unique to Americans: Black Friday.

For those of you not in the know, Black Friday is the day after Thanksgiving that marks the official “start” of the Christmas shopping season. Stores across the nation advertise deals on everything from televisions to argyle socks in an attempt to start the materialist masses drooling with desire.

And oh, how they drool!

Regardless of your city’s size, if so much as a Best Buy or Wal-Mart is within 10 miles you can be sure there will be a line stretching around the store come opening hour. Electronics stores are the bulls-eye for Black Friday shoppers, and there is a recent history of tramplings that seems to be destined for tradition.

Consider the videos below.

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I recently read an article on Kingmag.com called “The 5 Best Video Games To Play With Your Girlfriend”.

To sum up the article in brief: Fitness, cooking, karaoke, trivia and cel-shaded “family safe” crapola.
Seriously. That’s what the article suggests you play with the love of your life.

Fuck that¹.

I want a girl who get’s pissed if we own an XBOX360 but not Gears of War. I want a girl who can headshot me with a pistol from across Blood Gulch and still melt my heart when I glare at her over my controller. I want a girl who can whip my ass at any game on any console with a little practice, or at least give me a run for my money.

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Can I get some tits on the Tube please? No, seriously I’m so sick and tired of youtube videos nowadays. I think what the site needs, above all else, is those bags of fat on the front side of women. Those frequently overlooked appendages of the female anatomy just NEED to be injected, artificially if necessary, into EVERY video humanly possible.

Have you looked at the most viewed page? Nothing but dudes. Just a big ‘ole sausage-fest of guys spewing out intellectual crap that has more basis in a classroom (bo-ring) and not showing us our much desired chick parts. I don’t want to hear thought-provoking monologues by experts in the field, dammit! I want CLEAVAGE!

I mean, how hard is it to get some flesh up there?! Since we all know porn is hosted on youtube, would it be such a stretch to get at least some “B” cups on that list? We all know that the internet doesn’t have any real resources for porn, which is why the brunt of us search youtube. Thank god for those intrepid individuals who use tags like “xxx” “sex” and “porn” on their videos. Good job, fellas.

But why aren’t these videos being shown as viewed the most? It seems a conspiracy is brewing to keep knockers away from the eyes of the average viewer. “Exploitation”, they call it. BAH! I’m a MAN and I want some GODDAMN TITS!

This message brought to you by the Sarcastic Bastard Coalition of Southern California (SBCSC). Noogins.

Every time I hear about the next big breakthrough in graphics or special effects I have this kneejerk reflex that makes me immediately vomit blood for five to seven minutes after. After the incident at E3 some years back, EA Games doesn’t invite me to their annual “Booze-and-Bragfest” cocktail mixers.

For as long as I can remember the movie, television, and video game industries have been “Keeping up with the Joneses” in the realm of delivering a better image of a mousetrap. As Magritte would say, “Ceci n’est pas une Holodeck.”

My main gripe with this industrial game of leapfrog is that we, the little people, tend to get jumped over faster than the next in line. It’s a regular complaint of mine that you can’t buy toilet paper without a better version coming out 4 days later. You are wiping your ass with Quilted v1.5.255d. Upgrade now?

Perhaps it’s me showing my age or my plutonium-grade retroslutism, but I would be thrilled if they went back and really explored the limits of the Sega Genesis. Pixel graphics have so much charm and possibility that I think in the race to the DreamCast it was greatly overlooked. Of course eventually the industry would have had to move forward, but with the speed of technology going obsolete, it’s like buying a ham sandwich that tastes like shit two bites in.

I realize that there’s not a chance that this sort of thing would happen, of course. I guess I’m fulfilling my duty by supplying the retro elitism that is asked for by the Great Sphincter of the Cosmos.

A Prayer to the Great Sphincter of the Cosmos

_by boh3m3

Oh Sphincter, Great Sphincter!
Mighty Clenching Colonmuscle of the Cosmos!
Bless us with your gasseous inspiration,
And lead us not to the creative constipation
that comes when we eat too much Everyday Cheese!
 Amen!

There’s nary a time when a commercial comes on that I don’t cringe and clench my fists with rage. Be it on the radio, television, or that annoying reel before the previews of unreleased movies I simply loathe ads to the very core of me. Oddly enough, most internet ads don’t bother me, unless there’s more than say two per screen of a website, or there’s some annoying sound announcing that I, like thousands of others, have one a FREE* IPOD!

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I read a long ass article about “Radical Honesty” today [ Here], and thought it might be good to give my honest thoughts about some of the people lighting up the tubes nowadays.

At the top of the charts today is Chris Crocker, the self-appointed Queen of Ghetto, with his personal video masterpiece “Eat My Cornhole” currently at 300,000+ views.

For those of you who wish to stay on this page, a brief synopsis: Kathy Lee Gifford doesn’t care that you hate her, and wants to illustrate this by inviting you to tongue her anus.

Seriously, I have no qualms with Chris, but I can’t help but picture him as some kind of guest host on the View or perhaps Good Morning America. Maybe it’s the hair… perhaps the dead eyes… But without a doubt it’s the Colgate smile that seems to have been honed by years of getting second place in beauty pageants.

His videos can be seen at best as a somewhat clever satire on social views and morays, and at worst a grab for attention and a projection of sincerely skewed ideas. He posts 5 videos daily, so it seems that he is either not gainfully employed, or perhaps his employment requires dolling up and smiling in the face of adversity. Probably not a superhero.

Next up is sxephil. I’m almost at a loss here because my beef with him is more technical than anything else. I can’t stand his videos mainly because it’s scripted and his method of delivery comes off as a sports broadcaster who is better than you. He’s one of the few youtubers who has recently enjoyed a growth spurt of views not by content, but by careful choosing of thumbnails.

Like any other [and it seems EVERY other] red blooded horny interweb-dude, I like boobies. Kudos to Phil for capitalizing on this very important swing factor in viewing videos. The clincher here is that unfortunately for him, he is a youtube partner and subject to increased scrutiny by way of copyright.

WHAT YOU SAY?
I’m talking about photos. Photos that he did a little Google image search on and then used without permission of the original photographers. You know, the guys who own the copyright? Phil, if you’re reading this: be warned, photos are people too. You could just as easily have your videos taken down because of a photograph as you can have them removed because of music or video clips. And as a partner, I’m more than sure daddy Google isn’t going to be thrilled with paying you to include copyrighted material.

“But boh3m3! You just used HIS picture without permission!”, you say… Yes. Yes I did. But I don’t have banner ads on this page. Hence, I’m not directly making money through the use of said content ON this page. That doesn’t make it OK, but aside from him throwing a bitchfit and telling me to take it down, there is little risk or reason to ask me to remove it.

Ugh… Like the scourge of humanity carrying the same surname, Perez Hilton has decided to blow his green and pink wad of self on youtube and promote it via his digi-rag perezhilton.com

I had a chance to meet the rotund reveler of fashion review while working on a video with Lisa Donovan. Verdict? As fake as a model of a sculpture of silicon breasts in Second Life. He’s more phony than AT&T [HAH! GET IT? OMGLULZ]

Can someone tell me why this overweight Joker wannabe sporting a bruno mustache isn’t laughed into oblivion because he’s nitpicking other people’s fashion choices? Ignoring his personality flaws and a laugh that seems to have been spawned from Fran Drescher’s anus, the only merit I can see in his existence or notability is that no other human being in recent history has been quite as contradictory or hypocritical combined with piñata-like fashion choices and a desire to be “known for being known.”

Perez also likes finger painting and men’s penises. End.

While Youtube may not be pushing up daisies it’s definitely digging a hole for it’s community.

Maybe I’m romanticizing the way I saw YT when I first arrived, but goddamn it seems like it’s gone a bit downhill with it’s “rise to power.” A year ago I was amazed at vloggers… At these ordinary Joes and Janes that could sit down and riff about something and start some dialog with complete strangers across the globe. We could do the same with chatting and forums, of course, but lending a face and seeing how people said what was on their mind was interesting to me. These intricate little dramas and connections between everyday people making videos online were precious slices of humanity, lulzy or not. I spent a pretty sizable chunk of time going from one connected video to the next and seeing where I ended up usually an hour or so later. One video talking about the latest celebrity gossip might lead a watcher [through connected videos] all the way to pirates in Beijing or some goth public access recording.

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Ok. I admit everything.

One Christmas not so long ago I was given the first Harry Potter book which, after a polite “thank you auntie-whoever-you-are”, I refused to so much as look at for the next few months. Fortunately… Unfortunately… Some time later I decided to give it a once over.

And from then on I was hooked.

Now I can’t say I fell full force into the abyss-like state of slobbering Potter fan-boy-ism, but I definitely enjoyed the books and could almost understand why kids and adults alike turned into drooling literary fiends at the release of each subsequent book. What confuses me still is the lengths to which fans will go to get their ocular injection of Rowling’s Potterjuice.

I’m a little ashamed to admit that I went to the release “party” for Deathly Hallows, if for no other reason than my metaphorical rape of the gibbering masses waiting outside the Borders off of Torrance Blvd. If you’re reading that last sentence more than once, you’re likely not alone. Let me explain…

No? You don’t want an explanation? Well fuck off! I don’t see another person writing on this page yet, so you’ll just have to suffer.

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