Black Friday

Hello, hello, and welcome; today is a special day. Today, we voluptuously endorse the means and ends of our wonderful indulgence; today we celebrate the crashing of the market and the depredation that solidified our most Supreme Chancellor F.D.R. into his seat of residency up until he’d have lost prior to the outbreak of the second mega-shitstorm of war. Thank you, thank you!  Blessed be, blessed be!  mmMMMmm

And so we celebrate the very cause that necessitated the failures of the New Deal, the prolonging of destitution, the implementation of massive infrastructural overhauls that just so happened also to cement into place the growing centralized powers of the federal government—even, while at that very moment, the widening gap between the utopic dream of the Socialist Republics in Europe and the reality of the Soviet social, political, and economic destruction grew and grew and grew. But hey, no problemo, Frank couldn’t have known that was the direction we’d be bitterly embattling ourselves with in the generations to come!

But fuck that; party hard, as they say—shop, eat, and be merry. And you know what? Harry Potter is awful.

No, really: the deranged ramblings of a buck-toothed English child trapped in what might as well be an institution for the insane—taken into custody from abusive nonbelieving parents by an extremely large growth of a human, turned vacantly and depraved from terrified child into sociopathic hormone-addled lunatic; a psychotic who traded his morals for a stick that shoots fireworks and believes essentially that might makes right—but the worst of is, really, that the books are simply badly written fiction for children and the films, taken altogether too seriously, demonstrate to a disgusting degree the extent to which studio involvement, an author’s hysterics, and hackish approaches to script-writing and directing turn already bad source material into an unenjoyable background fuzz of psychological radiation.

But hey! You who cares, you know: Refugees W E L C O M E

Have you spent enough money today? I didn’t. I spent the day at my in-laws’ place, lounging about and reading books I’d brought with me for the car ride. It was an alright experience, if lazy; went for a walk by the creek, sucked in the morning fog and had pumpkin pie for breakfast. Had some great dinner, but all of a sudden I’m hungry again. Funny how that happens.

Shit, it’s that time again—Quick! right this second: you’re dating Jennifer Lawrence! How many days do you have until you finally kill yourself? (too many, I’d imagine)

Sorry, I got carried away there. Every once in a while I start to question means and ends of certain parties of our highest elected officials. These people are basically responsible for everything bad in the world. You ever hear about this thing on the internet (probably not, it was pretty obscure) called Gamergate? It’s this thing kind of like Watergate—some sort of scandal? Like, involving Five Guys Burgers and Fries and some journalists? And various shades of dyed hair?—that ended up taking most of us by complete surprise. I mean, most of us already knew the field of gaming journalism was corrupt as all hell; you’d have to be clueless and possibly retarded not to know by now—but this Gamergate thing really blew us all away: the sheer amount of corruption, its unabashed obviousness, and the journalists’ utter disdain for their audiences and fuck-all—it’s no wonder, really, that it’s all gone completely down the drain and why this shit just won’t go away. And there are these people, these “Gamergaters” that are so filthy and stuck-up, these hateful, bigoted misogynists that just hate women and probably want to put bags over every woman’s head in the world and beat them up or something equally disgusting and violent (just look at the “videogames” they play) that would insist that they’re actually just out to investigate “the truth” (whatever that means) and “get to the bottom of all this corruption” but, really, I think we all know what that means.

I mean the truth is that basically everyone is a pedophile, anyone who so much as looks at a game system is some kind of loser. Except for the ones approaching gaming as the next frontier of Art—which, I feel pressed to add, is patently absurd.

So I guess that’s the thing about art, though; on one hand, you have the degenerates who claim it’s anything and everything, while on the other hand, the snobs and pseudointellectuals among us have a difficult time nailing down an adequate definition, much less digging up an adequate representation of that definition. Universality is a bitch. How can someone manage to fit Rothko in with Rembrandt, while at once scorning the mass-production approach of Picasso without shitting all over Pollock in the process? Admittedly, Pollock was more a master of something other than painting—throwing paintbrushes and being crazy, perhaps—but that’s hardly the point. The boundaries coming up seem to be little more than arbitrary distinctions under an umbrella category that simply doesn’t matter: Art is dead and commercialism is dead and basically everything anyone cares or cared about is dying or already six feet under. Basically that’s what Gamergate is in a nutshell, isn’t it? Boiled down, distilled animosity of a system trying to devour the very things that keep it in place; the distractions and apathy generated by the video games themselves is getting too fucked around with by people looking to subvert it too much. Comic books, too. Everything basically sucks shit, when you think about it.

I keep getting texts from various numbers that aren’t logged into my contacts list. I think it’s a telemarketing gimmick, but I can’t be sure.  I wonder why they bother?  Ever have that feeling, when your phone goes off, and you think, gee, great, someone might be interested in hearing from me?  Not this time.

What was I talking about?  Harry Potter.  More on that later, I guess.  It’s too late to write these things.

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