What was I thinking about again...?

Diatribe #1: Sometimes (scratch that) The best way to listen to music -- like really listen to music as in hearing every decibel and right-ear-dependent sound there is -- is to simply toss on a pair of ear muffs a.k.a. headphones over your exterior head flaps. We're (scratch that) I'm not talking about iPod earbuds or any-silly-white-shit like that. It's just better. Haven't met anyone yet that will refute this. But I'm sure some ignoramus will come along with some asinine notion that "da club" is the best place to listen to music. Right in between all the fake people comes the fake, thump-thump quasi-music, which tools like him/her think constitutes listening to a) music and b) I don't know, but it's not fuckin' music.

Diatribe #2: It really sucks to be duped. Like really, Oprah got pretty pissed when Mr. James Frey set that elegant ruse. But, when it comes down to a whole nation, and subsequently the world, which is duped -- ouch. Well, that's a new kind of hoodwink. And, what exactly am I talking about? This: 

"A long-delayed Senate committee report endorsed by Democrats and some Republicans concluded that President Bush and his aides built the public case for war against Iraq by exaggerating available intelligence and by ignoring disagreements among spy agencies about Iraq’s weapons programs and Saddam Hussein’s links to Al Qaeda." -- The New York Times

Like really, how has this man not been impeached yet? The thing is that we all (well, most of us) know about this travesty already -- there just hasn't been enough public outcry about it. Are we all really that apathetic? Nevermind that, where the fuck are the protests that were so pervasive in the 70s that you couldn't swing a cat without hitting a protester. Now, we just watch Paris Hilton, and subsequently Perez Hilton fuck up whatever culture we had before. Lots of fucking going around, that's for sure.

Diatribe #3: I was at a concert tonight. I saw Matt Good play in (one-way street heaven/hell) Hamilton. Semi-great show, but that's not the point. The point that I'm scratching like a cat at a door in a blizzard is: Conformity. Really, it's never more obvious then at a concert. All you need to do is stop watching R. Kelly bust a move in a closet to see that we all follow suit. When one person, then another, and another arise out of their seats, well, it just becomes a faux-tidal wave of followers. If you don't clap after a performance in which everyone else is smacking their limbs together, you look like a schmuck. When you're making out and publicly pseudo-fucking on the dancefloor, you're just everyone's bane and people won't join in unless, of course, it's a swinger-cum-concert-outfit. Something that I'm musing about as I type this sentence for some reason. Like I said, Lots of fucking going around.