dude, where's my noose?

exactly why would i want to go to fremont for a party? you cannot be serious. you're not hot enough & i'm not nearly that desperate.

fyi, the most depressing films of the past couple years:
1. House of Sand & Fog
2. Million Dollar Baby
3. The Pledge
4. Mystic River

having railed against 'Hollywood endings' for seemingly an eternity, i have nothing but love for artists' refusal to deliver Hallmark style, artificially sweetened denouements. sorry, but "It's [Not] a Wonderful Life", people. for the studios to submit to test audience blather is to ignore that half our enlightened country voted to re-elect the Accidental President. don't ask us what endings we prefer--we're just not the most discerning bunch of people.

but verisimilitude in film, while laudable, is still enough a rarity that i would have preferred the heads-up prior. "House" gets the nod for no.1 because of the absolute blind-siding. you think it's just a quaint picture about property rights & intersecting lives, rounded out with some immigrant struggle cliches & boilerplate class commentary, when it suddenly spirals into a dolorous, self-destructive/suicidal free-for-all. bravo, that's one hell of a sucker punch. excuse me while i fire up some of the "The Smiths" to complete the effect.

i love this country

so it's 6am at the gym, i'm not exactly fully coherent, notwithstanding my chai soy latte (costco is moving beyond 45-lb pigs-in-a-blanket, white trash bulk). i have my wallet in my hand from flashing my ID to janice at the front desk. idiot that i occasionally am, i proceed to leave it atop the locker, for maybe 5 mins tops, before i recognize my folly. and of course, some dickhead's already lifted it. i feel i identified the culprit, even followed him for 2 blocks to see if it was possible he was as stupid as the last einstein, who about 6 months ago, went down the street, bought a mattess, arranged for delivery, and left his number with the merchant, but alas, this guy took off in his late-model mazda.

i went ahead and did my workout--fueled by dismay at the regrettable nature of man. and, worse, the recognition that i lost my driver's license, which, fyi, is graced by one of the best photos of me of all time. serious bummer. and i guess i can't go to vegas this weekend--double fuck.

anyway, so sitting in the DMV in the Haight by late morning, i was thinking, is this place the last refuge for the once-hailed American melting pot that's been usurped by gated communities, ethnic slums, the ascension of roman numeral'ed scions destined from conception to attend a certain school " in Connecticut" (and the presidency--fuck!)--essentially a whole culture of pretentiousness without substance, privilege informed by cachet, prestige, and vapid sensibilities. where paris hilton reigns as the grand mistress in this theatre of the absurd.

but the DMV is the great equalizer--they don't issue privilege passes--you want a renewal, get your ass down here and take a number.

"honey, you want us to use the photo on file? it looks like a good one..." ah the digital world, fucking brilliant.

old yeller is going down

if that loser on the first floor doesn't clean and/or move his fetid fucking kennel away from the door, i will take matters into my own hands. it's like a punch in the face every time i pass the unit. there used to be a serial dog poisoner in Hong Kong's midlevels--how interesting that it's stopped since I left town.

this Onion story was LOL funny.
http://www.theonion.com/news/index.php?issue=4106&n=3
especially the extra slides at the bottom