Tag: 9/11

#neverforget

I’m not a monster. I’m not some goddamn alien that’s incapable of human empathy. Like many Americans, I’ve been processing some conflicting emotions. Because it’s weird. It’s surreal seeing a guy who dominated Internet spaces get VIOLENTLY shot down. I don’t think it’s helpful to dismiss that experience. But better people than Charlie Kirk get gunned down daily without hardly a blip on the radar.

What’s ironic to me though is that Kirk was a victim of his own zeitgeist. And I’m not talking about his politics. I’m talking about something more broader. The movement that Kirk championed found its success in the “flood the zone” strategy, or hitting apathetic voters with cheap content made to obfuscate the specter of late stage capitalism. Donald Trump used this media landscape to his advantage with Charlie Kirk acting as his “vanguard”. What we have today is a meltdown of meaning, of shared common reality, of the desire for consistent ideology. Or worse, we’re witnessing the deconstruction of memory and the forward progression of time. Information and life itself is cheapened. Expectations for a better destiny eradicated. As Mark Fisher said, it’s the “slow cancellation of the future.”

And because the future has been canceled, there will be no climax to Charlie Kirk’s death. No retribution. No promise of a coming civil war. The administration will heap on posthumous accolades and bury him with honors but that will be his story. The end. In two weeks, the vanguard will have a new savior and perhaps one that will carry the water better than Kirk ever did. We will forget that yesterday’s events happened.

It will be just another tragedy.

It’s what Kirk would have wanted. Or perhaps he’s a victim of his own success.

In defense of having hair

It was the summer of 2001. I was 13 years old. There was nothing unusual about this particular summer. I spent the days jamming out to Peter Gabriel’s Passion and playing with my pecker nonstop. These were innocent times mind you, before the tragedy that befell us that September.

But on one afternoon, I ran a comb through my hair. I’m not sure why. Those days I had long luscious red locks that often resulted in bullying on the school bus. No one liked gingers. Not now, not then. But on that hot summer afternoon, a large clump of hair fell out my hairline.

Sure, there was a small panic. But I went about my day not thinking much about it. Little did I know that, to steal a joke from Red Letter Media like I’ve done so many times in this blog, this would be the second worst thing to happen in 2001.

You can probably guess the first

My hair was never the same after that. As the years rolled on, my hairline slowly rolled back. The crown of my head became completely bald and there was nothing, not a goddamn thing, I could do about it.

Sure, people comforted me. They’d say shit like “oh but it’s not a big deal!” but you know what? It is to me. It ain’t easy being a bald redhead. Just ask that sex pervert Louis CK.

For years I played it cool. But deep down I held deep resentment towards myself and the genetic lottery that let me down. Slowly, I plotted my revenge. Finally when 2024 rolled around, nearly 23 years after those first strands fell out of my head, I knew it was time. I was in the middle of a divorce, my career was careening towards a dead end, and my bank account was nearly wiped. So I did the only thing I could do: I called up HairClub for Men.

“HairClub for Men, this is Jeremy Piven,” the receptionist said.

“Jeremy, NOW’S the time I will have my vengeance!” I declared.

“Let me get you scheduled for a consultation,” he said.

So I went in and the consultant looked at my hair. “Biology is the biggest bitch in the universe,” she said. “The only thing worse than going bald is being lit on fire.”

“Agreed,” I replied, “but what can be done about it?”

The consultant fueled her brow and shook her head. “Not much, I’m afraid,” she said, “but as St. Augustine said, there’s nothing in the world that money can’t fix. So are you prepared to fork over half your salary for the next three years?”

“Whatever it takes,” I said.

And now, one month later, the universe has been made whole by giving me back a full head of hair.

Many laughed. Many said, “weren’t you that bald bastard with that shitty blog?” And I hold my head up high and say “you’re damn right I am! But now I run a shitty blog WITH hair!”. And that always stuns them into silence.

So thank you HairClub. Thank you Jeremy Piven. Thank you for giving to me what nature couldn’t.

Welcome to the hall, Bill

Congratulations to Bill Moro for being the second inductee into the Internet Ruined Everything’s Robert Montgomery Knight’s Hall of Fame of Real Ass Dudes (IRARMKHoFRAD). His perseverance during America’s darkest hour resulted in bowling a perfect game. This single act has made Bill Moro an internet legend.

This is a controversial pick, I might add. Moro was against stiff competition from former presidents and musicians that a few of my detractors have deemed more worthy. And I feel that I should address this controversy.

The criteria I laid out for admittance into the Hall were clear: candidates must have demonstrated Real Ass behavior IN ADDITION to establishing a body of work that will “stand the test of time” regardless of any extracurricular or unsavory public activities. For many, this meant that Donald Trump would be a first ballot HoFer given his business history prior to holding public office. But as president of this Hall, I felt that Mr. Trump’s Real Ass behavior has greatly overshadowed whatever business success he may have achieved. It is for this reason that I have named Mr. Trump ineligible for IRARMKHoFRAD.

Mr. Moro may seem like an unlikely candidate for this distinction given his lack of credentials outside of the bowling alley on that fateful day. But I believe there is some precedent here. This last year, voters named Don Coryell into the Pro Football Hall of Fame despite his lack of postseason success in the NFL. Voters overlooked this crucial piece of criteria in favor of Coach Coryell’s vast influence over the league. It was the right call, and it’s the right call to name Mr. Moro as this year’s inductee.

Sometimes being a Real Ass Dude isn’t about throwing chairs across a basketball court or encouraging the public to inject bleach into their veins. Sometimes being a Real Ass Dude means demonstrating tenacity and perseverance; of being the one bright spot in an otherwise cruel world. And on September 11th, 2001, as planes were falling out of the sky and buildings were crumbling, Bill Moro demonstrated a fearless feat in bowling alley in Massachusetts.

Welcome to the Hall of Fame, Bill

The 00s sucked peen

Ah 9/11….

Now THOSE were the days!

What a legend

I know “physically” I’m in my 30s, but in my heart I will always be 109 and counting down the days until death relieves me of this pitiful life.

But because my formative years took place during the 00s, I’m supposed to feel a sense of nostalgia for them.

Fuck that.

It was a TERRIBLE decade: the death of rock/metal, 9/11, the Great Recession, Hurricane Katrina, the first run of the New England Patriots dynasty, Iraq, Afghanistan…and aesthetically it was a cheap knockoff of the 90s.

I’m sorry, but it sucked. And we all knew it.

Of course, occasionally I’ll listen to Three Doors Down and Shaggy then think “oh yeah, this was the shit,” while I reminisce about sitting on a dirty ass floor and playing the first Halo.

But the only thing WORTH remembering was MySpace. Remember how dope that shit was? You could customize your page, add a song, post half-nudes because that’s what people expected you to do. Why we abandoned that in favor of Facebook I will never understand.

I know that people I graduated with are starting to feel their age. They’re now working along side adults that don’t REMEMBER 9/11. Yeah that sucks, but you know what else sucks?

Three Doors Down and the 00s.

So be happy you escaped that shit.

100 Girls: was that—a movie?

Kids forget, but there was a time before 9/11.

No one’s proud of it. But it happened.

Evidence for such a decade is the 2000 film 100 Girls. It’s hard to believe they used to make movies like that.

The plot’s pretty simple: some dude in college loses his virginity in an elevator like it’s some big deal. Then he spends the rest of the movie looking for this mystery girl in a dormitory.

His roommate also has a fucked up penis.

If this was a typical boner comedy, it probably would have been standard background noise.

You see, discussions on the differences between men and women used to be “interesting” to people. Not to me though. I thought girls were just boys with vaginas and left it at that. I would know because I’ve definitely seen a vagina. But 20 years ago, people didn’t know that.

So there were things like The Man Show, Kevin Smith films, American Pie, etc. The difference is though, occasionally those things would be funny.

100 Girls attempts to elevate the formula. And the moral of the story is this:

“Girls have boobs. But did you they also have personality? What a revelation!”

*Cue Bowling For Soup.

So be thankful that you live in a time of terrorism, pandemics, catastrophic climate change, massive wealth inequality, and dying democracies.

At least it isn’t the 90’s.

Masking the Horror

My buddy Randy got really drunk and started watching 9/11 videos.

“Never forget”, he told me.

“How could I?” I replied. “A bunch of people got trapped above the site of impact on the Twin Towers and either suffocated or leaped to their deaths. Can’t think of a worse way to go, ya know? Having to chose between choking on fumes or falling hundreds of feet to your gruesome death.”

But Randy forgot. And that’s kinda the point behind the “Never Forget” sloganing and the virtue signaling behind saying it, right?

The unfortunate thing about honoring and mythologizing tragedies is that it helps mask over the absolute horror behind such events. This is true for not just 9/11, but pick any war. I’m sure that soldier was really concerned about getting a posthumous bronze star after getting his legs blown off and bayoneted.

Sure, I can say that this due to some conspiracy from the government to feed us propaganda and keep their war machine fueled, which is true. But the fact is that it is much easier to focus on the mythos, revenge fantasies, and conspiracies regarding tragedy rather than on the tragedy itself.

To do so means recognizing that death is ever present. It can strike with no warning, no rhyme or reason. The universe itself is completely indifferent to our condition. In fact, it seemingly despises us. So love today, laugh when you can, because it can all be gone in an instant.

Anyways, started taking viagra today. They caused me to pass out in the Walmart bathroom, but at least they gave me a boner. Just can’t go back to Walmart anymore. 😩