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Quote of the Day

“You gotta respect everyone’s beliefs? No you don’t! That’s what gets us in trouble! You have to acknowledge everyone’s beliefs, but then you have to reserve the right to go, ‘That is fucking stupid! Are you kidding me?'” ~ Patton Oswalt

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The Batshittery is Strong in this One

“This is a full-scale assault against Christianity and the followers of Christ. When prayer is banned from the public square, when our President fails to defend biblically defined marriage, and he openly and zealously advocates for gay rights; when legislators rush to overrule existing laws to promote gay marriage; when schools and courts consistently suppress religious freedoms; we know we are locked in a war against the Christian faith, not culture. The architect behind this offensive is none other than Satan himself. The Scripture says that the devil, our archenemy, is bent on as much destruction as possible. Satan knows that one day very soon, he will be cast into the lake of fire and sulfur in hell (Revelation 20:10). As that day draws near, his malicious, hellish activity is intensifying.” – Franklin Graham, writing on his daddy’s website. (Via Good As You)

I don’t know about any of you, but I stopped having invisible friends when I was 4 or 5 years old, and the monsters living under my bed and in my closet also disappeared only a couple of years later.  This guy, however…

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The Walgreens from Hell

I dreamt last night I went to Walgreens to pick up a prescription. This in itself is odd because I haven’t used Walgreens for scripts in years because their service (at least in Denver) is so uniformly appalling. But yet here I was, and not unusual for them, the pharmacy wasn’t open even though a half dozen employees were milling about inside.

I was near the front of an ever-increasing line of people when they finally started accepting customers. At first they had only one window open, but when I was finally at the head of the line they opened a second. A large, at first friendly, black clerk asked for my name. “Oh yes, I just saw yours here,” she said, while rifling through a huge pile of bags strewn across the counter. “I’ll need to see your ID,” she said.

I opened my wallet and could not find my driver’s license, even though I’d just had it out a second before. My wallet is a huge mess, so I ended up pulling everything out in an effort to locate it. As it took longer and longer for me to find it, I could tell the clerk—not to mention the crowd behind me was getting annoyed. I finally found it and handed it to her. She took it to the back counter, turned around and asked, “What kind of Canon printer do you own?”

I thought, WTF? “What kind of Canon printer do I own? What does that have to do with picking up my medication…and how do you even know I have a Canon?”

“They’re running a promotion and I need your information.”

“I don’t know,” I said, becoming increasingly annoyed that I’d been there for such a long time and still hadn’t gotten what I came in for. “Pixma something-or-other. I’m not interested. Just write down ‘customer refused to provide information.'”

“I can’t do that, she said. You have to tell me what model it is.”

“I DON’T FUCKING REMEMBER!”

At this point I’d caught the attention of the woman standing at the window next to me. She gave me a wry smile.

The clerk then pulled something out from under the counter that started shining lights into my eyes. I noticed it had “cognitive assessment” and “memory recall” buttons on it that were lit up. “What the fuck are you doing?” I said.

“You’re acting impaired. I can’t release your meds without verification that you’re capable of taking them as instructed.”

“Because I can’t remember the model number of my printer, something that’s none of your damn business to begin with? I never consented to a medical test!”

The woman to my left now got involved. “He’s fine. He just doesn’t remember his printer model number. Hell, I don’t even know what kind of printer I have!”

The clerk then turned the device on her.

“Now you’ve done it,” I said.

At that point I woke up.

This followed an earlier dream where I was walking around North Beach in San Francisco attempting to take pictures with my iPad! (Even though I had my old Pentax SLR with me. I think it was out of film.)

I guess this is what I get for having had such a late dinner last night.

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Synchronicity

I was at Einstein’s the other day having lunch and slowly making my way through Walter Isaacson’s biography of Steve Jobs. I was at the point in the book where Job was waxing poetic about his love of Bob Dylan’s music and how he finally got to meet the man who so profoundly influenced him. I was immediately reminded of my dear friend Beth in Phoenix, who in her younger days actually dated Dylan for an extended period:

Me: “You should’ve seen my Mom’s face when I brought home my first Bob Dylan record.”

Beth: “You should’ve seen my Mom’s face when I brought home Bob Dylan.”

At that exact moment, one of Dylan’s songs (I don’t know which one; I recognize his voice but not his complete catalog) started playing over the sound system.

There is a lot about the nature of reality that we simply do not understand—and probably never will.

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A Random Thought

One of my guilty Instagram pleasures—unabashed geek and Apple fanboy that I am—is searching for photos on the service that are tagged #applestore, #macbookpro, and #geniusbar (there are others, but you get the general idea). I’m continually amazed at the number of photos that show up after those searches that have absolutely nothing to do with any of those tags, but even more intrigued by the people who post photos of their weed stash either sitting on top of, or immediately next to their Apple products.

And I can’t help but ask, “WHY?”

Those photos just seem…boring. Really guys? Are you trying to be provocative? Edgy? Or are you just stoned?

It’s said that people photograph whatever is important to them. I shudder to think of what my photos say about me.

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AHS: Coven

A lot of people with very important opinions did not much care for this past season of American Horror Story.

I, on the other hand—in spite of some glaring plot holes you could drive a truck into—found it completely enjoyable and of the three seasons,  definitely the most entertaining. It was always on my “must watch” list and something I always looked forward to seeing.

Whatever shall I do now that this particular story is finished?

Granted, there wasn’t much horror (per se) this year, but I loved the scenery chewing, the set design, and the performances of all involved. Maybe I just have low standards.

Or perhaps not.

From tv.com:

Ryan Murphy and Brad Falchuk’s American Horror Story is a national treasure. When you watch as much supposed “prestige” television as I do, you realize just how special and audacious something like this is. AHS doesn’t care about coherent storytelling or logic or reasonable pay-offs. (Most shows ONLY care about those things.) This one operates firmly in dream logic territory because guess what? That’s where horror lives too. And guess who horror’s next-door neighbor is? Comedy. Both genres thrive in that weird subconscious level below rational thought. Explain a joke and it’s no longer funny. Explain a villain’s motivations and he’s no longer scary. Anybody complaining about AHS‘s lack of coherence is not only judging it by an incorrect rubric, they’re really just admitting being uncomfortable without the safety net of traditional storytelling and they’re mistaking that admission with criticism. This is the rare show where both plaudits and disdain are accurate responses, but the fact that that effect is intentional is what pushes it into genius territory. Nothing is less cool than using someone’s self-deprecation against them, and that’s what the worst critics have been doing: “It’s stupid, it makes no sense, it’s silly.” THAT’S THE POINT.

The most difficult part of any week was staying away from the spoiler-laden reviews on Thursday morning since we rarely stayed up to watch the show when it was actually broadcast (11 pm is rather late for a school night when one has to be up at 5 am the next morning). I confess, I strayed into one of reviews today without having seen the season finale, and wasn’t especially surprised when I read who became the next Supreme. (It was an idea I’d been tossing around in my head for weeks.)

I was sad to see two of my favorite characters meet their ends in this final episode, but was also delighted to see karma doled out to two other characters who so richly deserved it.

Again, from tv.com:

Well, that’s that. This season is dunzo. I loved it with all of my heart. What a true celebration of actresses and comedy. Don’t listen to bozos who complain about it being “a mess” or “it didn’t add up” or “it was not as good as previous seasons.” Those are FALSE COMPLAINTS. Television doesn’t have to conform to some kind of formula. It doesn’t have to set things up nor pay them off. It merely has to set off dazzling fireworks in our brains. I don’t know if I’ve seen a drama as brave and hilarious as this one, nor something that trafficked so heavily in dream logic and, uh, nightmare imagery. I am always suspicious of people who think “it made no sense” or “it was unsatisfying” is a legit criticism. What they are really doing is stating a plain fact of a certain kind of storytelling: Few things are as unsettling as surprises, and that’s what this show is about.

It will be interesting to see what Messers Murphy and Falchuk come up with for next year.

I cannot wait.

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