quacky: —–+—+—–

“But we live in a time in which humiliation and fame are not such easily distinguished quantities.”

She could have embraced her notoriety. “I had everyone calling my mom: Dr. Phil, Jerry Springer, Playboy. I could have been like Paris Hilton, but that’s not me. That thing is so unlike my personality; it’s not the person I am. I guess I didn’t think it was real.” As these experiences become commonplace, she tells me, “it’s not going to be such a big deal for people. Because now it’s happened to a million people.”

From a really eye-opening article in New York Magazine, “Kids, the Internet, and the End of Privacy: The Greatest Generation Gap Since Rock and Roll“ …

Nevermind what old farts say, kids these days just love stipping it bare and laying it all out on the internets. The whole vocabulary of privacy doesn’t even mean the same thing anymore.

Efforts to plug Indonesian “mud volcano” resume - Yahoo! News

I just want to mention that this is the ONLY time I’ve ever read the phrase “insert four chains of concrete balls.”

I had to stop reading at about the third or fourth paragraph because the entendres were so thick.

This is the foundation for my new childraising manifesto.

No, this IS my new childraising manifesto.

Nobody in New York Knows the Difference between At-Home and Outside Conversations

Yuppie kid: Mommy shaves her hoo-hoo!
Yuppie dad: Okay, honey. Look, do you want your book?
Yuppie kid: I came in the bathroom this morning and asked Mommy what she was doing and she said shaving her hoo-hoo. Mommy shaves her hoo-hoo!
Yuppie dad: Dylan, remember when we discussed at-home conversations and outside conversations?
Yuppie kid: Yes.
Yuppie dad: Well, this is an at-home conversation.
Yuppie kid: Okay, daddy. [Sings to herself quietly] Mommmyyy shaves her hoo-hooo…
Black lady: See, home conversating, outside conversating — that’s bullshit. My kid says shit like that, I smack him. He won’t say shit like that again.
Yuppie dad: Okay, thank you, but I think our method works just fine.
Yuppie kid: Lady, do you shave your hoo-hoo?
Black lady: Oh, yeah, that shit is workin’ just fine. She’s all kinds of polite.
Yuppie dad: Okay, Dylan, this is our stop.

–R train

Overheard by: SandmanEsq

via Overheard in New York, Feb 22, 2007

Google:
Your search - shaved “hoo hoo” - did not match any documents.
Did you mean: shaved “woo hoo” ?

Announcement: I Hate My Upstairs Neighbor :: Dethroner

I was this guy.

We used to be in exactly this same situation. Before killing our upstairs neighbors, we moved over one unit, and now….

WE ARE THOSE UPSTAIRS NEIGHBORS!!!

MU. HAHAHA.

Also: those insane, always late for work or everything in a big hurry, clog and/or ski-boot wearing, with their keys lost amongst the 150lb barrels and crates they must have stacked everywhere neighbors still live there…

And I kind of feel sorry for the emo-math-nerd geriatric poodle kids who live where we lived.

Kind of.

Except for what the hell is up with having an 80 year old poodle and pants that don’t fit? I can’t feel sorry for THAT.

NYO - New York World - Bungalowing Iraq

So fabulous.

If you get very good at procrastinating … you’re ready for more generalized procrastination techniques that can be applied to any situation.
These are called addictions.
For example, smoking allows you to avoid pretty much anything for five minutes everytime you smoke.
… same goes for masturbation, sudoku and heroin.
… the great thing about addictions is that if you ever run out of things to put off, you can always put off ending those addictions.

Only about one in seven of these are good. There’s probably a Nietzsche quote like that too. Let’s see…

In every philosophy there is at least one profound thought which, by its all-too-savage indictment of the Spirit of Man (Menschheitgeist), provokes satisfied “conviction”. The truths that remain satisfy only the inattentive disciples of “truthfulness”.

Read some Nietzsche Family Circus for yourself!

In the best piece of neuro/narco-sarcastic retrospective rock writing I’ve read in the past several weeks — The Benign Comedy: They love you Long Time — erstwhile nasty piano-bar raconteur cum rock historian, Paul Shrug writes:

But the version of “Long Time” you hear on the radio isn’t the full version. It’s the second part of a two-part, combined song: “Foreplay/Long Time.” “Foreplay” is an instrumental prelude featuring 12,000 electric guitars, crashing drums, a bassist and an apocalyptic organ. (It should go without saying that there’s an organ on Boston as well.) The song is called “Foreplay” because it’s the tantalizing appetizer before the main dish, which is the pop hit “Long Time.”

The term “foreplay” is also used in sexual applications, referring to a series of gropes and gesticulations necessary to prepare nerve sensors in the human body for copulative activities. In the United States, “foreplay” is mainly done in coastal areas, very infrequently in the Midwest, and not at all in the South. “Foreplay” is also the national sport of France.

It is also hard not to admire the author’s writing’s punctuation’s adept mimicry of aggressively experimental Foster-Wallacean serial possessive constructions (even, it could be suggested, besting Wallace by constructing said serial posessives from pop-cultural acronyms).

Guy-who-reads-this-page William K Wolfrum in a post entitled The chaste are weird, sick bastards and they’re at war says pithily, regarding the horrible fundy fad of father-daughter virginity pledges :

I suppose the idea here is that if you’ve failed to teach your daughter to respect her body, then it’s better to parade her around the room and make her pinkie swear to not fuck.

I wish I could say I know for a fact that such pledges are a load of hooey and the girls never keep them… Wait, forget it. Strike that. Nevermind. Oh god I’m so sorry.

But it is also undeniably true that the Reagan administration’s enthusiastic support for governmental deregulation — long a goal of economic conservatives — encouraged and helped finance a series of technological developments that gave the pornography industry direct access to every living room and bedroom in the country.

The Decency Wars: The Campaign to Cleanse American Culture

Useless Account

Q for QUIZZES ON MYSPACE:
“Girls only do those stupid MySpace quizzes to send secret, subliminal messages to boys they have crushes on. Now you know.”

Also, N for Nice Tits: “… here’s the thing to consider: Real men love real boobs. We mean, real ones—squishy tits that flop over when you lie on your back. No one likes hard, fake boob jobs except for porn fetishists and hair-gel frat jocks and do you really want those creeps touching your special areas anyway?”