2013: The Year in Review

Rather than going through the great and not-so-great moments of 2012, I think I could be better served to write up a review of 2013 before it gets too long and out of control.

Actually, I won't but I'll brag a little more than I generally choose to and say that I slept more on New Year's Day than I did any day in 2012, and I have thus far run a whopping zero days. Generally I like to leave personal details out of my blog, but we all have things we wish to brag about.

So then, back to griping, and how about we start with those "Do it for Chicago" ads? How about, I'm blogging so you don't really have an option (although, in the future, there may be a/b testing-choose-your-own-adventure style options on the internet for even such menial content as this blog). These ads are for the Greater Chicago Food Depository — more like suppository, am I right? — and if you haven't seen them, they look like this:

Incidentally, before I continue, googling simply "no you're not" yields top results for a couple of different Facebook pages, both of which deal with defining the amateur v. the artiste in photography. This, dear Internet, is one of your greatest gripes of the moment it would appear. 

But back to mine, which is this ad. Who the heck was commissioned for this? The logo looks like, actually, I can't find the other logo I'm looking for and instead could only muster this annoying bullshit (hey dude, it's great if your life is good, but seeing that plastered on something doesn't make me think so but good for you for tricking a lot of people and getting rather wealthy in the process). So though it looks nothing like those "Life is Good" designs I clearly love, it also does not create in me any great desire to do good. It just looks ominous, and inhuman, like a monster holding a tray/palette that somehow spells out food, probably in blood.

See that's hyperbole, and I like to stop short of it generally because there's way too much hyperbole these days, not enough gets to just be what it actually is which, in my case, is a critical asshole. So, with that established, I think this logo looks like shit. Nor is the edgy, anarchical typeface that says "Do it for Chicago" doing it any favors. What exactly am I supposed to be associating with donating food? 

I know, you're thinking "Jeb, why don't you build something rather than cut these things down." And, "Jeb, why do you undermine your argument by pointing out how asinine it is." The truth is, because it's not that important, I just saw some ads I thought looked bad, and then I thought I might blog about it, and then it spiraled out of control, and I'm a hoarder, so I'm keeping these words here.

And how fun is it to get that email confirming you've unsubscribed from an email subscription you never subscribed to? About as much fun as watching the Patriots win when you are actually a fan of football, am I right? Which is just as much fun as ending declarations with "am I right," am I right?

Snappy New Year's

Well, I haven't a surfeit of time for writing here, but that's just as well as people put together a whole mess of aggravating gobbledygook this time of year in an effort to, well, I'm not sure what really. I guess they want people to think they're good in making some sort of resolution, or want people to think they're profound or who knows the hell. It's really not a bad thing to want to improve yourself and arbitrarily selecting the day someone arbitrarily selected, since the day you start making the change is pretty arbitrary no matter what, is fine. It's the just the usual case of social media throwing it further in one's face.

Then enters the conundrum of addressing this as I'm doing and not being guilty of some of this as well as inevitably in reference I may incur some sort of differentiation of language. As can be seen, I'm not closing 2012 in any special manner, just incurring the usual circular reasoning loops.

On a related note, there's got to be some sort of (I am loving this phrase today it seems) tracking for the inverse relationship between internet posting and positive mental health. Prolific can be a problem.

Speaking of problems, I have a slight one with the new Bruno Mars song sounds exactly like a mash-up of The Police's "Roxanne" and some other Police song. Lazy research by me, yes, but lazy song creating by Mars' crew. That shit sounds exactly like a Police song. That's why you just change the station or turn the radio off. 

Considering that this blog gets a reasonable number of hits from folks googling how "deaf people are jerks/assholes," I figure I may as well recap my encounter with a blind man the other day. I'd just finished running and it was a little before eight in the morning. He said something, and I noted his stick so I went over to see if he needed help. When I asked, he responded in Spanish, so I said, "No habla Espanol," because I don't (the grammar on that is probably even wrong). To this he responded sarcastically "Parlez-vous Francais?" In spite of his sarcasm, I answered honestly with "un peu," because I do speak a little French.

This left him thoroughly confused and eventually I directed him to the bus he wished to take. I'd have walked him there and let him hold my hand if he hadn't been a jerk to me. "I ask three or four people for help, you are the first to help me," he said, but he didn't sound very grateful. He struggled mightily to interpret the direction I gave him which were only as complex as "walk one block straight, the same direction you've been walking. Then you'll cross one intersection to get the bus going west, which is to the left." He just started walking left, and I re-explained multiple times. 

Given his initial savvy joke, I didn't really know what to make of his struggles to understand my directions as far as seriousness goes. But it did make me not want to be helpful sometimes. 

Some are blind, some are deaf, some it's literal, some just to metaphorical effect. Who cares, get drunk, spend time with some friends and family. Happy New Year.  

Rudolpho: The Red-nosed One

Well I'd fully intended to post this on Christmas Eve, or Christmas day even but life got the best of me, as life has a way of doing.

But I didn't want the length of December to pass without giving a quick shout out to the horrendous modern commercialization of Rudolph the Red-nosed Reindeer. I mean hell, this was already commercial, it's not like Rudolph is a real effing reindeer, but this stuff well, as much as I dislike it, I also really love it. So without further ado please queue up Destiny's Child, animated, slutting up Rudolph the Red-nosed Reindeer.

A true highlight is when Beyoncé sings, "Rudolph we love you boy!" But don't sleep on the snowman host getting down in the recording booth.

And then there's old pal Regis Philbin giving his rendition, with cameo (and near guest star status) from Donald Trump. Keep your eyes peeled for his breakdancing moves, and his signature catchphrase, all the way at the end.

Ah, Rudolph with your nose so bright, who'll you do a collab with tonight?


Credit to my girlfriend for owning the DVD of the Rudolph television production on which these, let's call them interesting, renditions were housed.

Incidentally, how many children get named Rudolph each year?

Belated wishing of happiness (British) and merriness (American) on your Christmas.

And to all a goodnight.

Cracking Nuts

Last week, for the first time in years, I had the pleasure to take in a performance of The Nutcracker, all thanks to the somewhat inebriated whim of a good friend. As children, my mother took us several years running and I always enjoyed it. Even the many of us who have not seen a performance or specifically sought out its soundtrack are familiar with the tunes of Peter Ilyich Tchaikovsky. You can find them in Tetris and all manner of holiday ads.

But in all of my viewings, this was the first in which my brain had the focus on simply the movements of each of the cast members of the show. While my original intentions in creating this blog were to gripe about nonsense and worthless frustrations I experience in life, sometimes serious, and sometimes tongue inserted into the cheek, at times I must, even here, lay down my solid appreciation for how awesome something is. In day-to-day life I do this all the time but, again, not really my goal in writing in here.

That worthless aside aside, you should get thee to a performance of The Nutcracker, as I imagine even the worst could still be one of the finest things you see. I can't possibly know that of course, but it seems reasonable given the general reverence held towards the classic. Sure, people will bastardize anything, but it's a bit harder to do when you have to get a theater space and two hours of performance time, let alone practice. Still, even if a ramshackle band gathered together dancing like asshats to a CD of the recordings I could imagine it still be decent, because Tchaikovsky (no coincidence his initials are P.I.T.) is such a badass.

Putting aside that worthless aside, as well, and what I wanted to get at is how it's really a true joy to watch the delicate, effortless, and beauteous movements of bodies well-trained in the art of ballet.

So when you've got a chance, take a crack at seeing The Nutcracker, and soak in a little fine holiday tradition.

Word to Microsoft

Long ago my father would bring an Apple Macintosh SE all-in-one computer home on the weekends. This was a treat, for it meant I could write silly stories and have the computer voice read them back to me. But Apple's were in the extreme minority then. As time wore on, Apple neared extinction, but Microsoft bailed them out, and Steve Jobs returned to the helm. Slowly (or not so) and surely, Apple has taken command of the device market by building not necessarily the best products, but the simplest and most aesthetically pleasing.

Apple became the cool thing. If you spend a good deal of time in coffee shops, most people are rocking out on a Mac. If you work at or visit a start-up, most people are rocking out on a Mac. What I wonder, though, is when the revolution might turn the other way. Even if not winning the market share, perhaps Microsoft returns to prominence by being archaic and uncool. You know, what wasn't cool, is cool, because it's not cool.

Yes, Microsoft:

Apple Store? Oh no, it's Microsoft...

seems to be emulating Apple:

Thanks for adding the logo, so I know what store it is.

There are further examples that I will neglect, including the Windows OS being modeled on the Mac OS (guess I glossed that one). But they can't be Apple...or can they? Will the hipster go PC? Will it be PC (politically correct) or PC (pretty cool) to have a PC (personal computer)? By the way, a Mac is a PC, as you may well know, before it dropped into colloquialism as being associated with Windows-based machines. Is Microsoft going to go hard?

When computer's were simpler, they created the game I so long loved, Tetris. I still love it, it's just been a while. The news articles published when that game was released are fantastic, and include quotes like this:

Tetris is so simple to learn that you'll know all the rules five minutes after opening the box. But it's so intriguing to play that once you've started you'll be spending many hours in front of the computer screen-so many that you'll begin to wonder if Tetrisisn't really part of a diabolical plot hatched in the Evil Empire to lower worker productivity in the United States.

Well, anyway, that's that.

Commutable Diseases

Every morning and afternoon I step on the train I risk becoming an excessively grumpy customer as I am confronted by the excessive rudeness of a large number of humans. Like the guy this morning who really needed his personal space to very slowly read the top stories in his reader on his iPhone. Yes, I'm belittling his reading pace. He also seemed grumbly about my being as close as I was. Well, see my friend, in the morning at standard commuting hours (let's call them 7:30-9:30am) you run the risk of public transit being crowded. Hey, I don't love it, hence much of my griping in this here blog, but it would be better if people stuck to certain rules of politeness.

Someone is exiting the train, and you are blocking the doorway. You step off the train and get back on. I know it's a mad rush, and others are trying to storm on from the new stop, but you'll get back on. And then you want to keep that space right where you were, except that the new folks need to get in there, and that requires getting around you. Simple concept, but complicated enough it would seem that walking and train riding could become Olympic events.

Anyway, since I've written probably those exact paragraphs above probably a half-dozen times in here, let's talk about Taylor Swift and have me point out that we should stop talking about Taylor Swift, the old Catch-22. Try as I might to avoid her though, I'm sure to see her peddling goods at Walgreen's, further proof that for however much I understand marketing, I'll never approve — unlike Ms. Swift, who I guess approves all sorts of Walgreen's goodies.

But hey, she's got a formula, it works. I did find it amusing when my girlfriend and I saw her on the cover of one of those big time magazines at the grocery checkout and there was a headline about her dating a Kennedy, which she's already no longer doing. It's sad that a) I know any of this and b) this magazine's December issue was prepared apparently so far in advance that this story that must have been written ages ago would just now be seeing the light of day.

As for the light of day, there are all kinds of nice lights these days, as it is holiday season. I can be a bit of a Christmas grumpus, but the lights look damn nice, and I think they warm the soul through the otherwise bleak winter (which technically doesn't even start for 3 weeks). Some pleasantness must be there in the hibernatory months. What's that, hibernatory not a word? Oh well, if I just keep typing hibernatory, perhaps some bloke'll toss it into the dictionary. Maybe I can be the top hit when people search "hibernatory."

See you in December.

Govember

As in where has it gone. Blah blah blah, perception of the passage of time, but really, this month has come and gone in a hurry, which only means 2012 is damn near coming to a close and —if you believe some prognosticators — the whole world with it.

When I consider my little self-appointed quota of monthly postings, I know I'm not alone in setting arbitrary volumes of content for which there is little in the way of quality payoff. This oatmeal comic sums up the freelancers conundrum/my own struggles with content production damn well.

Speaking of oatmeal, now that the weather's turned chilly (although it was quite warm today), it means I'm getting down with the warm breakfast cereal Wilford Brimley was spokesperson for when he wasn't talking about Diabeetus.

I was crossing through a crosswalk today and a lady in a Range Rover very nearly just kept on going through the space my body was considering occupying. I gave her a long stare, and once she felt my gaze, she displayed shock and mouthed "sorry." And that's all it takes for me to no longer be frustrated with someone nearly running me down. We all make mistakes and have lapses in attentiveness. If we're lucky, nothing really bad results, but either way we just have to remember to be accountable.

That preachy paragraph aside, belated joyous Thanksgiving times bestowed upon all thee.

That's enough out of me for now, this turkey's cooked.