Archive for the 'FAIL.' Category

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At the Fucking Movies

Enjoying yourselves? Fuckers?

I really love movies. I love ’em so much, I sometimes call them “film”, like a snob.

But I don’t go to the movies anymore. Once in a great while, a friend will cajole me into going, and I’ll go. But inevitably I’ll be distracted and irritated and want to leave, especially if I’m interested in the film. I sometimes think I’m the only person in the theater interested in watching (and hearing) the film.

Let’s recap why going to the movie theater sucks ass:

Mouth-Breathing Idiots


Two classes of these cretins exist: those who blatantly disrupt a film, and those who “whisper” about every event unfolding on the screen.

The former is easily handled: you tell them to shut the fuck up before you and your entire row of people rain blows down upon their heads. This works sometimes; other times it will shut them up for only 10 minutes, whereupon the threats must escalate and the film is now second fiddle to the real action.

The latter is more common. It happens when an idiot family from the idiot part of the county comes to watch a film slightly more complex than “Cars 2”. As the film begins and we see foreshadowing, they immediately begin whispering loudly to each other:

“Didja see that, Elmer? I bet she gonna cause him some troubles!”
“Ya think so? But she’s Cameron goddamn Diaz!”
“Don’t matter none! I can tell she’s gonna be the cause of all this trouble later on!”
“If’n ya really think so! But I’m not so sure about that there fella from the FBI, neither!”
“No! The FBI guy ain’t the killer! He woulda hafta been two places at once doncha think?”

This goes on throughout the entire film. And there is no remedy as the idiots will claim they were being quiet and minding their own business. Your only hope is to move out of earshot or leave and wait for the DVD.

I have beheld the latter type of Mouth-Breathing Idiots so often that I’m actually amazed when they don’t appear next to me.

Crying Babies

Look who's enjoying "Salò, the 120 Days of Sodom"!

This one used to haunt me like a nightmare. In the 1990’s, it got so bad that I bet one of my friends that I’d have a screaming baby next to me, guaranteed. We went to the movie and left early. I was $20 richer.

Some sort of backlash must have occurred because baby meltdowns at the movies are kinda rare nowadays. If you go to a comic book movie or a kids film, you should expect a few snot-nosed brats raising a ruckus. But the onslaught of brats at R-rated films has dropped in recent years.  I’m hoping it’s because dullard breeders were shamed from such behavior. If parents think that’s unfair, they should either drug their brats into a catatonic stupor or try being more thoughtful about their reproductive habits.

Mastication

No, not masturbation. Most masturbators are quieter than the slack-jawed bovines who down quarts of popcorn and soda or wrestle with a noisy plastic wrapper for 40 fucking minutes. What’s being said in the film? Who knows? All I can hear is crunch-munch-munch-munch, slurpy-derpy-slurp and rustle-ristle-rustle-ristle. I think they said something about needing to escape the office building in order to find the guy who was…oh, I dunno. It’s all just a bunch of noise. Who can hear anything?

OM NOM NOM NOM NOM NOM NOM!!!!

Ka-FLOOM!

And when I’m not losing the plot because of all the noise being made by the perfumed hogs who surround me, I’m being deafened by the Hollywood soundtrack. If a character sets a mug of coffee onto a glass table, it has to land with a loud ker-CHLINK! noise that has been compressed and signal-gained eighteen fucking times before being inserted into the scene.

Ker-FLAAMM!! Buh-ZZZHINGGG! Ka-WOOM...WOom...woom...

And if the action really heats up? You’ll need ear plugs to shield you from the head-splitting noises generated by another idiotic car chase or Michael Bay explosion. At these moments, even the popcorn munchers are drowned out. And everything that happens MUST have an accompanying low-frequency rumble to make your groin vibrate. If there is no low rumbling noise, then the movie must be boring and we should all just listen to the popcorn munchers.

 Comfort

My ass hurts. Ass. Hurts.

As a person with chronic back pain, I have to take into account how much money in medical bills I’ll have to pay after sitting in a tired, scummy, beaten-up old movie theater seat for the 30 minutes of commercials, 20 minutes of previews and 2 hours of film I must endure.

I can’t hit the “pause” button and stretch my legs. I am a prisoner here. I must listen to the munchers, endure the ker-FLOOM noises and wriggle in my seat as my ass screams for mercy. Why did I come here again?

Advertisements

I paid $11.00 to watch this?

You have two options once you’ve committed to go to the movie theater:
1. Go in early, get a good seat and endure 20 minutes of television commercials.
2. Go late, get a lousy seat, miss the commercials and watch 20 minutes of previews.

There is no other option. Despite the fact you’ve paid a premium for a seat, burned gasoline to get there, endured a long line to buy a ticket and plumped down next to some popcorn-munching behemoth who smells like a Malaysian garbage dump, you STILL have to endure commercial advertising. Why? BECAUSE HOLLYWOOD SAYS SO.

Hollywood

Finally, there’s the content. I’m like anybody else. I enjoy watching spectacles on the big screen. At this point, that’s only reason I’d ever attend a public screening. If a movie intends to intrigue me intellectually, it can’t do so in a movie theater. May as well go straight to DVD (which is what most foreign films and independent films do anyway).

"It's Jim Carrey in...whatever. You'll pay to go see it. Fuck you."

I have no idea how mainstream America continues to line up for Jim Carrey comedies and stupid revenge films and all the “two women struggling against all odds in a world they didn’t make” movies. Somehow, these films make bank at the box office. I’d sooner shoot myself in the face than sit through that crap, but I guess that’s why the movie theaters are what they are: halls of consumption for the lumpenproletariat.

Will people eventually flee the blockbuster theater experience for the more civilized art house scene? I doubt it, and that’s a good thing.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Top 10 Technology What-The-Fucks

Sometimes, technology can really piss you off.

In no certain order, here are 10 things in modern technology that drive me nuts. Most importantly, these are all things that someone, somewhere, should have said, “This is a really bad idea and we should remedy this ASAP.”

Of course, they didn’t, so…

10. Car Alarms That Toot When You Arm Them

Jesus Christ, will you SHUT THE FUCK UP?

I want to find the asshole who invented this and kill him. As if we don’t have enough noise pollution in our lives, this evil little scumbag decided that simply blinking the parking lights wasn’t enough. No-o-o-o-o. Some gormless fuckwit of a soccer mom sometimes can’t see the lights and needs a re-assuring BEEP to remind her that her Dave Matthews CD’s are safe and sound.

Meanwhile, the rest of us have to put up with a startling BEEP just outside our window when we’re busy jerking off to midget porn. It ruins the mood, let me tell ya.

9. DVD’s That Won’t Let You Skip to the Main Menu

Menu menu menu menu menu MENU!!!

This one is the goddamn worst. You PAID MONEY to buy or rent this DVD. You have no interest in watching the previews of other shitty Hollywood movies and you have no patience for advertisements. You’re in your Barcolounger, Cheetos in your lap, ready to go, but NO.

You are forced to sit through two ads for the studio, a “funny” piracy warning video and umpteen fucking movie trailers. You grind your finger into the MENU button but all you get is the “illegal operation” display in the corner of the screen. Why?

Because some drooling fuckstain at the studio thought that buy-through would increase %0.000054 if everyone was FORCED to watch this shit. No matter that it drove 95% of their paying customers into paroxysms of hatred and disgust. After all, they ALREADY GOT YOUR MONEY. So fuck you, Mr. Customer. You have to watch our marketing crap. You fucked up. You trusted us.

8. Endless Software Updates


I don’t mean to pick on Steam. I love Steam, and I love Valve. But Jesus Christ, fellas: can we stagger the goddamn updates a bit? Not only does Steam update almost daily, but when it does, it  interrupts any full-screen process you might be doing!

(Yes, I know there’s a setting somewhere to stop this, but I shouldn’t have to find it!)

So, I’m sitting at home watching midget porn on my 42″ LCD, things are getting good because the girl midget just took off the pig costume, and all of a sudden this green box intrudes on my screen, pushes the midgets into the background and insists I pay attention because Steam just decided to upload a bug fix that affects 4% of everyone who plays Stalin vs The Martians. WTFingF?

And then there’s my Firefox plug-in’s. None of those plug-in’s can go four fucking days without delaying the execution of Firefox so they can update themselves and solve a problem that some nerd in Bayonne found when you run it on Windows 3.11 and a Cyrix processor.

Meanwhile, I’m champing at the bit to get online and find out if my monthly subscription to asianmidgets.com was renewed or not. But no. I gotta wait for Downloadhelper to add support for 720p Vimeo files of Justin Bieber. Dammit!

7. Member Cards

Screw you, Frankie!

Nowadays, every brick-and-mortar business in the country has to have a membership card. Without the card, you can’t get all the sale prices and flyer miles and gasoline credits and whatever else they think will lure you into adding yet another tracking device into your wallet.

Soon, your wallet is bursting at the seams with these things and it takes longer to fish it out at the checkout counter than it took you to rally all your purchases. So you swipe it in the machine and some secret database somewhere has fifteen more points of data that say you’re an easy mark and spend money like a American sailor in a Filipino whorehouse.

You’ll soon receive a 15% increase in monthly email spam and a slight alteration to the twice-weekly coupon books that are mailed to your house and end up right in the trash.

What I find most aggravating about this crap is the fact that market analysts no longer have to gather any data. We do it for them! There are no market analysts anymore. They’re all just database administrators. I hope they all get leprosy.

6. Long-Ass HTML Page Titles

Why? I mean, why?

When the hell did it become necessary to have a focus-group-approved marketing paragraph of text in the goddamn title of your webpage? Hello? Bueller?

Hey, Seattle PI: you’re a newspaper. An online-only newspaper after your historic failure in the dead trees market. But that’s what you are: the Seattle Post-Intelligencer, aka Seattle PI. When I visit your website, I don’t need an armful of text scrawled across my browser.

Shit, your title doesn’t even reveal who the hell you are till the very end! I guess some douchebag in your web marketing division decided that forcing everyone to  read spiffy marketing text is a great way to “gain eyespace”. Well, guess what, a-hole? When I bookmark your stupid website it ends up reading like “Totally amazing and fully comprehensive solutions for all your-“

Why the hell should I click on that? Who or what the hell are you? Who knows? DELETE.

Hey, SeattlePI: You want a proper title tag? Here it is. Free, no charge.

Seattle PI: News from Seattle, Washington.

Enjoy. Assholes.

5. CD Packaging

Want over-priced music? Then work for it, bitch!

Now, I know that CD’s are swirling down the toilet of forgotten technology, but I wanted to show one more instance of marketing scum making technology unnecessarily awful.

CD’s – especially those from Sony Music – cannot be opened by a naked ape. They make damn sure you’ll never scratch that polyethylene wrapper off without gouging the jewel case, and if you should somehow thread the needle, you now have two nuclear-bonded stickers clamping the shell closed.

Why? To discourage theft, of course.

Let that sink in for a minute.

Then, go to BitTorrent or Usenet and pirate as much music as your monthly bandwidth allowance can handle. Fuck these guys. Fuck them with a stick.

4. Battery Meters That Dive In Two Seconds

Hey baby, how YOU doin'?

Finally, something I’m expert on. I understand the difficulty in making a battery meter accurate. It’s especially hard when the battery isn’t manufactured by the device manufacturer. Different batteries have different power curves and different “cutoff” or “final voltage” points.

Guesstimating how much juice is left in a battery is a sketchy business. But if the device manufacturer has engineered for a specific battery, it should be very accurate. I’m looking at you, laptops, iPods and cell phones.

But, no. My fully-charged cell phone will have three battery bars. I’ll have a two-minute conversation with my midget porn supplier, and BAM! One battery bar left. WTF?

Is it really out of juice? Or was it never really fully charged? Who knows? The manufacturer sure as hell doesn’t.

3. Wall Warts

Satan's dominion on Earth.

Evil. Pure, preternatural evil.

They hog up receptacles, get hot as hell, fall out of the socket and serve no purpose whatsoever. If your stupid gadget must have DC input, give us an in-line brick. And while you’re at it, let’s winnow down to one goddamn DC jack to rule them all, OK? And let’s all agree that every device should have internal regulators that handle 12VDC input. OK?

Let’s all share one style 2A 12VDC in-line brick. That should be enough to run just about everything, save laptops. We’ll make an 18VDC brick for the laptops.

OK? Now just STOP IT. You’re filling the Earth with this shit, and we just don’t need it.

2. Ginormous Files and Drivers

Do we really need this shit?

When did it become necessary for a device driver to be over 1GB? All I want is the core driver. I don’t want your “Command Center Interface”. I don’t want your “Inline Automatic Update Alert System”. I don’t want your 54MB marketing PDF and I don’t want 10 free MP3’s from Goopy Blowhole and the Fuckstains.

And I sure as hell don’t want your stupid toolbar installed in my browser.

Just install my driver, shut up and go away. Is that asking too much?

I guess so. Because every time I update a device driver or software application, I’m swarmed by piles of shit that are larger than the entire hard drive of my first PC.

You can’t tell me it takes more than 200MB of data to update my fucking Ethernet driver. Do us a favor: re-compile the new driver, then grab your marketing manager by the lapels and headbutt him till blood pours out of his mouth. Thanks.

1. Shitty Keyboards

Behold the majesty of the Model M!

Before this entire thing becomes one long bitch-fest, let me give a well-deserved technology accolade: The IBM Model M keyboard is the finest bit of peripheral gear ever built by any company for any product, ever.

Just look at it. Big, clear buttons that click happily as you type. Each button is spring-loaded for hours of comfortable typing. And bomb-proof? This thing is a 1989 model and many of them are still in business. Neither sandwich crumbs nor spilled beer will affect your Model M. People who own a Model M will never part with them. Never!

Contrast and compare with the cheap, crappy keyboards that litter the market nowadays. If they aren’t woefully crappy and disposable embarrassments, they’re curved, split weird things that fail to improve on the IBM standard bearer.

Nowadays, “chiclet” keyboards, popularized by Apple, are all the rage. I admit they’re better than the awful one-piece  laptop keyboards or the metatarsal-mashing cheap desktop keyboards. But they’re so damn wussy and limp. Keyboards for emo-fags.

You can’t improve on “best”. So give up. Or watch as every person on Earth looks at you and says, “What the FUCK?”

 

 

Stuff I Hate

War is bad, OK? But it's too broad a subject.

Today I’m gonna talk about things I hate. This is only fair because I recently talked about things I like.

Rather than drone on about awful things like war, modernist architecture or rap music, I wanted to drill deep and get specific. I also wanted to discuss things most people like, because that’s what makes me…special. So join me as we gallivant down the primrose path of stuff that pisses me off.

Sliding Glass Doors

Hi! I'm a poorly-insulated, ugly piece of crap!

How the hell did these things became ubiquitous in American suburbia?  They’re ugly as hell, require endless cleaning and leak cold air like sieves. They do offer an expansive view of your neighbor’s identical ticky-tacky house with sliding glass door, so I guess that’s some sort of fucked-up consolation.

Ironically, a lot of people hate the lack of privacy that sliding glass doors demand, so they cover them with godawful vertical blinds. You may as well smear mud on a pig. Big help.

Dates

Jesus Christ, we're disgusting!

Who eats these things? You may as well put a bunch of freshly killed cockroaches on a plate and dig in. My father used to enjoy dates, mostly because he knew we kids wouldn’t eat them. I grew up and learned to appreciate things like olives, capers and whiskey. But dates? Fuck, no. Just looking at them makes me want to heave.

Wireless Networking

Bleep bleep! Fuckin' bleep!

I’m alone on this one, I know. Everyone loves the convenience of these goddamn things. But I hate ’em.

They’re painfully slow, regardless of whatever 802.11x standard they’re pushing nowadays. They’re unreliable and horribly insecure  compared to good ole’ Cat5. They’re also a huge PITA to configure, and once configured don’t allow for the networking flexibility of a wired network. Screw wireless networking. Just give me an Ethernet port and leave me alone.

germeister

Liquor for idiots.

“Hey, look at me! I’m an idiotic 20-something frat boy who thinks he’s discovered some kind of awesome new drinking trend! Oh, boy! Look how drunk I am now! Ya know, Metallica ruled the world with this shit! Woo-hoo! Let’s all do Jäger shots and Jäger bombs and frozen Jäger popsicles! Woo-hoo! Look at me!”

Shut the fuck up, you twit. You’re drinking the liquor equivalent a Tonka Toy. You’re a child, and I hate you.

KISS

Look at us! Just don't pay attention to our crappy music!

I was smack dab in the middle of the KISS demographic when they were at the height of their popularity. When I was 12-13, they ruled the world. A bunch of my friends were in the KISS Army. Not me.

I thought their look was cool, but when people played their records, I was left with shrugged shoulders. I didn’t get it. It was just mealy, mediocre, happy-crappy, quasi-hard-rock dreck. In 1977, Led Zeppelin and Black Sabbath were about a million times cooler than KISS.

As the band aged and faded, my assessment of the band was confirmed by Gene Simmons, who became a walking example of shallowness, greed and artistic bankruptcy.

Sunset Photos

Oooh. Lovely.

Yeah, I know that awesome sunset moved you. It was inspiring. The way the clouds were lit, the water glittered and the trees stood black against the sky.

Fuckin’ great. I totally understand. I’m as guilty as anyone.

But rather than toss another sunset photo onto the heap of them polluting the Earth, why don’t you just put down the camera and enjoy the goddamn sunset? If you must take a photo, try this:  turn your ass around and take a photo of what the sunset is actually illuminating. You might be surprised.

Harley Davidson Motorcycles

Fat, slow and loud is no way to live your life, son.

Oh, I’ll catch some flak for this but I don’t care.

Harleys are overweight, cumbersome, slow, noisy pieces of junk for people who don’t really like motorcycles. If you’re a fat, middle-aged moron who shits his pants when a Ducati winds out third gear, then Harley Davidson is for you.

You can revel in the legend of outlaw bikers gone by as you hoist your meaty leg over the cushy seat of your leather-clad idiotmobile. Be sure to have your gay-ass chaps on. You’ll need them to round out the derision of every single person who glares at you when you rev the engine in a quiet neighborhood on a warm Sunday afternoon.

You fuckin’ douche.

Fake Mullioned Windows

No one is fooled.

Maybe I’m biased because my house has actual mullioned windows, but these things are fucking stupid.

I can appreciate that manufacturers and homeowners find aesthetic value in mullioned windows, and that real mullioned windows are expensive. But whenever I see these vinyl abominations, it makes me think about the fakery and silliness of the American suburban landscape. Fake mullioned windows are not a disease. They’re just  a symptom, like pus-filled lesions.

London

What's all this then?

Don’t get me wrong: I love England.  I feel at home every time I visit. I may even live there one day. But I won’t live in London.

London has everything negative about a mega-city: noise, pollution, attitude and crime. But London is sadly lacking in the things that makes a mega-city bearable: the electric excitement of the streets, the air of possibility and the cohesive nature of organic city growth.

In short, London is a fucking mess. From its unspeakably ugly skyline to its uninspiring public parks to the crassness of its mumbling hordes, London falls flat compared to New York or Tokyo.

That said, London has a galaxy of attractions, museums and historical sites. But I’d rather live in New York. Or Vienna. Or Louisville, Kentucky.

Tighty Whiteys

Oh, THAT'S attractive.

Guys: you’re not 10 anymore.  Time to throw out your skid-stained undies and buy grown-up underpants.

Movies About Women Struggling Against All Odds In A World They Didn’t Make

Extended version? Kill me now.

Listen, ladies: shit ain’t all that easy for us men, either. The fickle finger of fate shoots us down with depression, failure and prostate cancer. You ever see any tear-jerker movies about some kind, beloved guy who struggles to find peace as he slowly dies of prostate cancer in a society that doesn’t seem to care? Have you?

I didn’t fucking think so. There’s no crying in baseball for men, either.  So put a sock in it.

Shower Curtains

God, I hate you.

They ALWAYS rise up from the heat of the shower and tangle against you when you’re trying to scrub the filth off your hairy carcass. No stopping it. You can add weights to the bottom or any number of other tricks and it just won’t work.

I’m so glad I’ve been curtain-free for so many years. I like my shower stall with its glass door. If I need to use the tub, I’ll take a bath. I dread taking  a shower in someone’s tub with a goodamn shower curtain crawling up against me like a slimy triffid. Fuck those things!

Your Band

How totally original!

Sorry, dude. I know everyone thinks your band is the coolest-ever mix of the Dead Kennedys and The Sonics with a hardcore Melvins twist, but you suck.

I think it’s great that you get a kick out of it and a buncha kids enjoy misbehaving at your shows. I salute your efforts. Really: I do. But in the grand scheme of things, your band isn’t really good. It’s just another guitar-driven mash of sloppy power chords with some bozo hollering into the microphone. It’s been done to death and you’re not particularly good at it.

Granite Countertops

No, really! I'm upscale!

Granite has its advantages. It’s durable and handles heat and scuffs well. It’s also expensive and heavy, sometimes requiring significant shoring up of your kitchen counter.

But its primary disadvantage is its ubiquitous snob factor. Every smug-faced douchebag you know MUST HAVE granite countertops. They don’t know why; they just saw it on TV and decided all cool, smart, rich people have it, so they should, too. Now they can swan around the kitchen like a Roman magistrate and tell everyone how much they paid those grubby men to install this fabulous new granite countertop.

Is it really all that much better than compressed fire slate or formica stone? No. But you have to have it anyway, because you’re a dick.

and finally:
Chat Rooms

Har har! We're so witty!

I tried IRC and a few other chat room formats and just couldn’t figure out how anyone could maintain an attention span that alternately requires fast responses as well as minutes of inactivity. Screw that. Furthermore, anything said extemporaneously is by nature less interesting that anything said with forethought and careful editing. Want proof?  Here’s this same paragraph in chat-speak:

IRC=teh ghey.
Totally.
BRB or AFK?
Chat=CWOT

I rest my case. Chat rooms are stupid.

Be sure to read about all the other things I hate in future posts to citizented.com.