full force ahead
Does anyone want to come over and punch me in the head? Like one of those good solid cinematic knockout punches. I'd prefer it if you just knocked me out with one blow (I don't want to be pummeled or anything), and then I slept black dreamless knockout sleep for eight hours or so. It's getting harder and harder for me to stay asleep (up at 3 am today). I know I could take drugs at night or something but sedative-hypnotic sleep is not real sleep either. Which is why I'm suggesting you punch me.
This game is really odd, but a fruitful topic for discussion. I'm a bit disturbed by my results, so I won't share. Maybe my complete, unhesitating willingness to be dismantled atom by atom is just sleep-dep talking.
The Chicago Sun-Times is a despicable paper in many ways, not the least of which are listed below:
(a) its relentless Murdoch-owned right-wing slant on everything;
(b) its painful simplemindedness (no word over two syllables);
(c) its tabloid-esque insistence on putting every non-story that appears on its front page in big shrieking 52-point type. It also tends to get in thematic catchphrase-y ruts with its non-stories; this week it's all been “REBEL PRIEST.” Can COMA MOM or BAT BOY be far behind?
That said, the Sun-Times racks up a few very small points by occasionally making me laugh out loud as I pass by it on the newsstand. Once it was for using the phrase “MOBBED UP” in a front-page headline (This is Chicago! We're all mobbed up here! Fugghedaboutit, you motherless fuck!). Often, it is for the one-word weather descriptions that they put in the left-hand corner (of the paper version only, sadly) every single day. Past weather words have included GLOOMY and HAZARDOUS. Today's was CHIPPER. Thanks, Sun-Times!
Other one-word weather descriptors I'd like to suggest to the Sun-Times:
ANGSTY
PIGSHITTY
TURGID
FRANTIC
METALLIC
WORKMANLIKE
SHY
NIMBLE
OBSCURE
RANK
SMUG
UNOBTRUSIVE
Ahhh! Help! I didn't really need to hear about predatory robots today. I'm all freaked out now.
I feel like linking Todd Levin and I have no context in which to do it.
The other day I went to the repellent “food court” for lunch, specifically for fast-food Chinese, because I was craving salt and MSG. Maybe I'm a weakling, maybe I'm a clumsy left-handed fool, but I could not for the life of me get my stupid packets of soy sauce open. I tried for many minutes. I eventually just stabbed a hole in the packet with a fork and squirted out the soy sauce that way. Then I started thinking about the strange structure/design of those packets, how they have a manufactured weakness in one corner so that they can be pulled open, but not so weak that they split in transit. I guess these guys would know all about the specs for that sort of thing. (And why is their logo so fuzzy? Or is that my eyes?)
Somehow, this is a nice photograph. By “nice,” I mean “ugly as hell, but strangely interesting nonetheless.”
—mimi “mauvais quart d'heure” smartypants