Rag Doll

Now, I realize I haven’t posted in a while and this seems like a ridiculous thing to come back with, but, you have got to admit, Single Ladies is one of the best videos ever made. I mean that is a dance off. It’s bizarrely intense. So, Kanye, I agree. I mean who’s voting for these Video Music Awards anyway? Have they no taste! These things are important.

While I’m on the subject, Kanye West is 32 years old (via wikipedia, which, and I don’t care what anyone says on this, is never wrong). That seems a bit old for a guy who, whether he realizes it or not, is just a pop star.

Before this becomes a Perez Hilton entry, the Serena Williams thing. Why are people in the media sports world so angry about this? Is it because she’s a woman? Is it because she’s a black woman? Is it because she’s a hyper-powerful black woman with tree-trunk legs? I dunno. Because, John McEnroe basically made a career of having wack-attacks on court and everyone looks back on it as being cute. Why Serena Williams can’t get away with it is beyond me. And if you had microphones on the field of any professional male sport you’d be blown away by some of the verbal interactions (I once watched miniature point guard Earl Watson sign a referee that he wanted to fuck said referee’s mother).

Hilariously though, Serena said this strange thing when debating with the head judge that I just can’t quote verbatim now. But it was something along the lines of Serena asking the small strange looking Vietnamese line judge if she was scared of her. Uh, Serena, Mike Tyson is scared of you. The only person who wouldn’t be physically intimated by you in a rage is your sister, and I think you two are clones anyway.

My 1998 Tristar DVD player has been spinning Roadhouse and Point Break (it can shuffle, and I have both DVDs) all night. And it will keep doing so until my soul is at peace.

I guess I haven’t been posting much lately because I’ve felt my opinion on things is fairly meaningless. But, I may be turning around on that. I’ve been working hard on my writing, and it’s probably getting worse because of it. I think David Foster Wallace’s Infinite Jest (which I’m digesting like a slug) is making me both more neurotic and more sure of observation. So I may be on the neighborhood more often, but lord knows I’ve said that before. And I’m working on getting Idle Conversation posted, but the past is the past.

Post Script: Wow, so I was going to post this when I realized that my last post was in July. Certainly poor form. This has been a strange couple of months, and I think the Health Care bill took a lot out of me. But as summer ends, things are getting weirder, and as the good Doctor says: when things get weird, the weird turn pro.