Self-Indulgent Snark Open Thread: Another Man Bitterly Disappointed by Friday’s News Cycle


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Earned media was so easily available in 2016!









Another 24 Hours in Paradise

I have nothing to say about politics, so if you are expecting a post on that, well, sorry. My day started in the middle of the night, when Steve decided to vomit all over the bed and me, and in such a manner that there was no way I could get out of the bed without dragging my fat self through it. So that was a pretty awesome start to the day.

Woke up to see that people are clamoring all over themselves to walk back their remarks about the Covington Catholic kids, and all I have to say to that is “FUCK THAT.” Sure, those idiot black Israelites or whatever the fuck they are were being assholes, so why didn’t the kids confront them? Because they’d get their asses beat. Instead, they fucked with the old dude. The end. That kid and his lawyers and pr firm can say whatever they want, but I saw the videos and I know what pack of white boys from prep school look like out wilding. I saw the look in that boys eyes and the smirk on his face. And this shit speaks for itself:

If a black kid had done what that boy did, white America would be all telling us it was a justified kill based on stand your ground laws. Fuck them and fuck the excuse makers.

Messed around the house for a bit, put out a bunch of suet, thistle, and bird seed for the birds, and Gerald came over to fix my dryer which had stopped working. While doing so, he went into the basement to get some tools, and we discovered that my water heater is leaking from the top and the bottom and Gerald said it is ready to do. And just like that, another 500 bucks.
The plumber will be here tomorrow, and the charge is only 250 bucks for labor. America.

I’ve now replaced literally everything in this house except for the furnace, so I fully expect that to blow up. I love owning a house, don’t get me wrong, but jesus christ there is something to be said for renting and having this all be someone else’s problem. It’s just like every time things are going well something goes tits up and there goes a thousand dollars. And it’s never less. Grumble.

Drinking a glass of ovaltine and wathcing the Punisher. That’s my big treat. Ovaltine. God damned diet.

On the upside, clean sheets tonight.








Greetings from the Cole Retirement Community

Day one at the Cole Retirement Community (our motto: “The food is great, the pets are awesome, the hearing is suspect, and the conversation is sketchy at best”) has begun with a fresh round of cleaning, with my father surgically cleaning every square inch of the house, muttering “there’s hair everywhere” the entire time. No one is safe, and the morning ritual for the Cole pets includes a vigorous brushing:

The conversation is, as always, a delight:

And look, I am NOT pinning this on my parents, because I am every bit as bad. I was sitting in the living room and the tv was tuned to the Today Show, and they had a long segment on their fitness goals and kept mentioning planking and I blurted out “what the hell is planking?” A minute or so later, my dad walked through the room dusting and they mentioned planking again, and my dad said to no one in particular “what the hell is planking?” A few minutes later, mom, who had been in the room the entire time but was reading, looked up, looked at me, and asked “Do you know what planking is?”

Lily, of course, is nonplussed:

Dad’s lift chair rental arrived this morning (he’s having another knee surgery), and then I suppose we will go to the beach and the dog park.








I’ll Hide My Shoe Somewhere Near Your Shirttail

Here is a little gem that figured into a couple of mixtapes a friend made me way back when mixtapes were actually tapes. I remembered the words and the exuberant strumming style, but I’ll be damned if I could ever have pulled the un-bluesman-like name of Doug Quattlebaum (“Have you met my accountant?”) out of long-term storage.

But with scant information I found this quickly on YouTube. It’s funny to think how hard-won this kind of musical knowledge used to be. Hours of haunting out-of-the-way record stores, cultivating a collection of fellow-traveler weirdos, keeping an ever expanding inventory of lusted-for albums ready to mind. You might even have to read a book or two to get up to speed. And the only way to hear these hidden treasures was to be within earshot of a physical copy of a recording.

I would have to say I prefer, no, vastly prefer being able to hear virtually anything I can think of on demand. But, and I know this is a commonplace sentiment, I’m certain I don’t appreciate the triumph of discovery, the revelation of finding something really superior nearly as much as when it was a demanding and sometimes expensive quest.








I Think I’m Depressed

I hate this time of year. I mean, just hate it.

For the past couple weeks I have just been depressed. Like, the kind of “Is this fucking it” depression. Nothing interests me, and I’m just bored and listless. The weather sucks, I’m bored, I’m lonely, there are just bills flying in from everywhere, the website is a trainwreck, the calendar needs to be done, there’s nothing to do outside, blah blah piss moan. I can’t get interested in any books, tv shows, games, or just anything.

I look at Thurston, and he’s looking back at me all beaming and happy and just worships me and I feel like a jerk because I’m thinking “I thought there would be more to it than this.” And no, I don’t need suggestions, or cheering up, or any of that crap, I’m just complaining. I’ll get over it or go talk to someone if I need to; I’m not afraid to ask for help. And no I am not going to drink or do something stupid.

Why can’t I have the depression where you lose interest in eating? Everything is bullshit.

I need to win the lottery so I can be rich and miserable.