The fuck are you doing? A question I've been asking myself often. I'd like to ask everyone else the same question, but it might seem slightly rude. We (maybe not you, but at the very least, myself, the few I call friends, and everyone else I see taking the 8am train to the city of feigned industrial interests) go to work every day and sit at our desks, all at varying points on the spectrum of "how numb am I to my indifference to this nonsense that really has fuck-all to do with me." We do maybe an hour's worth of honest, full-effort work, and spend the rest of the day making idle talk with coworkers whom, through sheer boredom, we have fooled ourselves into regarding as worth talking to. Or screwing around with a stupid foosball table. Sometimes we talk to our bosses, get served a confusing cocktail of "good job" and "please get this done ASAP", become filled with a temporary sense of purpose, and we feel mildly accomplished as we leave the office for the prospect of being stuck in a moving asylum of equally pitiful zombies for an hour or two until we get home and suddenly wake from deep depressing slumber just to watch a goddamn episode of our favorite TV show.
All of this just seems like the most elaborate distraction in the world. But the beauty is in how the things that this distraction is meant to obscure is different for everyone. The entrepreneurial dream of making money out of nothing, the groundbreaking band concept with a million instruments playing nothing all at the same time, the girl who could make you drop everything in an instant to live as savages in the wilderness with, the cult-favorite novel that remains unwritten. A lot of people seem to have no idea what is behind the ugly veil of their careers. All I see are outlines. They constantly bend and warp, but they are there. What the fuck are you doing?
Seinfeld was still on during dinner tonight, but my mom wanted to watch the Republican National Convention, so we did. I'm not big on politics because I'm immature and find it hard to care about anything beyond my own little sphere. But as I'm watching Ann talking about her love for Mitt and the mothers who supposedly hold the nation together or however she said it, I become increasingly slackjawed, literally and figuratively. What is the point of this stuff? Most people who are able to tie their shoes know that these substance-lacking speeches are cleverly engineered to entice the very people they haven't managed to entice yet, regardless of how much truth stretching and rhetoric injecting they have to do to make it a full speech and not just a two minute presentation. And why is everyone in the crowd acting like Mitt Romney's oversupportive auntie? At several points in the convention coverage on ABC, they snap to people in the audience who are nodding their heads in a pseudo-spiritual trance of agreement or just cheering like a bunch of idiots at a rock concert. For a few moments, I was almost scared. Are they high? When exactly did politicians become rockstars to be idolized in such fashion?
If in 2016 some independent candidate came along and consistently presented his or her views in a leveled, dispassionate manner free of rhetorical bullshit and contrived stories about his or her salt-of-the-earth upbringing, and made any sense at all, I'd vote for that person in a heartbeat.
Shadow Gallery Circus Maximus Pain of Salvation Urgehal Secrets of the Moon Naglfar Susperia Be'lakor Rotting Christ Deathstars Zonaria Nightrage Evocation Carla White Inactive Messiah Allegaeon Nefertum Ørkenkjøtt Gretchen Parlato Ted Nash Big Band
I make a motion to demand that all urinals around the world be revised to achieve a more optimal design.
There is a serious flaw in too many urinals everywhere today. The inside of a standard urinal consists of a smoothed porcelain which presumably is there to allow fluids to flow freely without splashing of any kind. However, many urinal designs seem to overlook the importance of a stream's initial contact. Too many urinals neglect to provide surfaces on which the stream can strike at an acute angle and thus minimize, or even completely eliminate, splashing. Many of those that do manage to provide such surfaces either render it useless by having the angled surface end abruptly (such as in rectangular urinals, in which the sharp angle formed by the sides and the back plate of the urinal create a critical splashing point), or simply are not generous enough in terms of the surface area of the optimally angled surface.
It might have been thought that one could just happily urinate with the aim directed squarely at a surface of the urinal nearly perpendicular to the flow of the stream, with but only minor splatter, but the problem can be amplified to terrifying degrees according to the urgency of the stream-letting. It is most definitely not fair to ask the suffering individual to turn down the flow to avoid splashing because it is a matter of life and death.
Therefore, I insist that all new urinals henceforth be crafted with a well-rounded bowl shape to cut down on splashing from as many angles as possible. Sharp angles in the construction of the interior of the urinal should be banned. Any existing public restrooms containing urinals plagued with the aforementioned problem should be closed down immediately for adequate replacements.