I'm Robin Liepman. I'm perceived to most as a pretty happy, optimistic guy. That is my social persona. But I find that the more I wear a pasted on smile, the less I'm in touch with reality, and with myself. But pessimism doesn't help either. Pessimism is the curling of the soul into the fetal position. Lately, I've cast aside my bounciness and become more of a cynical optimist.
This doesn't mean that I'm going to conform to the standard of angry white boy smoking cigarettes, constantly listen to politically driven anger rap, and insulting everyone I disagree with. What it means is that I'm going to look at life through a more realistic lens, but push myself towards that which makes my life better and the world better, under the belief that progress is achievable.
Psychologist Carl Jung introduced a concept called "the collective unconscious." This is basically mob mentality, the social group accepting certain concepts and patterns into their reality. We see this when we read about oppression in the USA, Nazis just "doing their jobs."
Moving on from there, I would like to talk about entertainment. Entertainment without a doubt alters the collective unconscious. It is a hand which molds the clay of our minds. Our minds can be molded positively or negatively.
Let's take for example, the Joker in the newest Batman movie.
The Joker stands for mayhem, destruction and craziness, which stems from an apathetic or pessimistic worldview. Apathy is a very destructive force, which created a lot of the worlds shit, such as homelessness, trash, the addiction to world of warcraft, and liposuction, to name a few. I think the Joker was a blessing in disguise for all those people who are secretly emo but held within a certain social norm that renders self-expression such a daring task that most don't walk that road. When this movie came along, many of the true apathetics, pessimists, and crazies were able to express themselves using the Joker as an access point, but in a way that made people say, "oh, it's the Joker! WHY SO SERIOUS! Hahaha." The Joker has become a form of Jesus to the apathetic and distraught, which allows them to explore the dark realm of their twisted desires by... well... wearing eyeshadow and lipstick.
But as cool as the Joker was in the movie, I side with Batman. He fights the negative, but remains a cynical realist. Batman knows what the fuck is up.
This brings me to comedy. Comedy is a mental place in which we are aloud to complain, insult, and express our deepest thoughts and emotions, if we can craft it in a nice package that the audience will accept. By doing this, the collective unconscious is made more aware of that which exists but is either unaware of, or doesn't pay much attention to.
Comedy can be the Joker that twists and turns our social condition, making us morph into a unified mind that enjoys having shit thrown at us so we can take that shit and throw it at more people.
Or Comedy can be Batman, that shines light into the face of darkness and laughs heroically as it is rendered powerless by the police of the mind.
Well that was my blog for today. Sorry it was late and a little unorganized. Cynical optimists are busy.
Friday, November 13, 2009
Energy Drinks [Paul Herzog
I drink too many energy drinks now. Three a day, at least. I feel like I’m on a one way train ride to diabetic island. I don’t know why either, they taste pretty terrible. They taste like a mixture of metal and gasoline. Which explains why when they wear off you feel like you got hit by a car. Drinking them is just like the first time you drive a car on the freeway. You get on, and start going so fast, it feels amazing. Then two hours later, BOOM, you crash and piss your pants. Wake up like, “Uhh what happened?? Did I die?! Why am I peeing blood?”
Energy drinks always have badass names. Monster, Full Throttle, Rockstar. Which is bullshit because I’ve never felt like any of those things when I drink one. I’ve never been drinking a Rockstar and suddenly a bunch of hot chicks throw their panties at me. They should give them more accurate names like, Jitter Getter, Bladder Buster, or A Diabetic Future.
They have their own special section at the gas station too. “Over here is the normal soda...and over here is the ENERGY DRANK!!!” It makes you feel like you flew an F-15 into the sun.” The energy drinks are looking over at the normal soda like, “We don’t like to be associated with them...pussies. You drink us and you’ll probably beat a grizzly bear in a cage fight. Probably. Fuck a ‘Coke and a Smile’, we want some action, bitch.” You know that they’re made with bull semen too right? Who was the guy that was watching the running of the bulls and was like, “I bet if I blow one of those things I could move like that!” Bulls don’t even seem like the best choice. I’m waiting for the energy drink made with cheetah semen. That’s gonna be fucking chaos. You drink one of those and you will literally take down a zebra and eat it.
Energy drinks always have badass names. Monster, Full Throttle, Rockstar. Which is bullshit because I’ve never felt like any of those things when I drink one. I’ve never been drinking a Rockstar and suddenly a bunch of hot chicks throw their panties at me. They should give them more accurate names like, Jitter Getter, Bladder Buster, or A Diabetic Future.
They have their own special section at the gas station too. “Over here is the normal soda...and over here is the ENERGY DRANK!!!” It makes you feel like you flew an F-15 into the sun.” The energy drinks are looking over at the normal soda like, “We don’t like to be associated with them...pussies. You drink us and you’ll probably beat a grizzly bear in a cage fight. Probably. Fuck a ‘Coke and a Smile’, we want some action, bitch.” You know that they’re made with bull semen too right? Who was the guy that was watching the running of the bulls and was like, “I bet if I blow one of those things I could move like that!” Bulls don’t even seem like the best choice. I’m waiting for the energy drink made with cheetah semen. That’s gonna be fucking chaos. You drink one of those and you will literally take down a zebra and eat it.
Thursday, November 12, 2009
Josh Abrams - End of the World
Josh Abrams
What I would do if the world was ending
If some natural disaster was going to end the entire world and you had a week to live, what would you do? This question was spawned because I’m watching Armageddon with my friend. If you have seen this movie then you know its a pretty awesome, lots of good actors, relationships, inspiring music, manly men, jokes, cheesy romance, saying the title of the movie IN the movie, and anything else you would want. But back to the point, what I would do if I had a week to live. I would break a lot of windows, not to steal things, but because I just enjoy the sound and feeling of breaking glass and I’m a helper, so the people who would want to loot will have one less thing to do. Another thing I’d do is finally figure out a way to make my life into a movie. Not like a biography movie about me or anything like that. I just want the music that fits all the moods of the characters and sets the scenes. But that gets annoying, especially if it happens too much and because when I figure out how to make my life have the music like a movie, I won’t be the only one hearing it, everyone will have to! The music won’t always fit my mood either, most of the time I would have it annoy others for my amusement, because I’m immature and childish like that. Some other things I would do would punt a bunch of small dogs off of the Hoover Dam. Sounds mean I know, but don’t tell me you wouldn’t do it at least once. I would also blow up my car in a public place, not to hurt people but to surprise them. It would be remote activated by my keys and after making it honk 15 times it would explode. As you can see most of my life-ending-soon-goals are to annoy. So those of you who think that praying works and know how to pray should start praying that nothing world ending will happen not only because you don’t want to die, but also because you don’t want your last few weeks on this planet being irked by my shenanigans.
What I would do if the world was ending
If some natural disaster was going to end the entire world and you had a week to live, what would you do? This question was spawned because I’m watching Armageddon with my friend. If you have seen this movie then you know its a pretty awesome, lots of good actors, relationships, inspiring music, manly men, jokes, cheesy romance, saying the title of the movie IN the movie, and anything else you would want. But back to the point, what I would do if I had a week to live. I would break a lot of windows, not to steal things, but because I just enjoy the sound and feeling of breaking glass and I’m a helper, so the people who would want to loot will have one less thing to do. Another thing I’d do is finally figure out a way to make my life into a movie. Not like a biography movie about me or anything like that. I just want the music that fits all the moods of the characters and sets the scenes. But that gets annoying, especially if it happens too much and because when I figure out how to make my life have the music like a movie, I won’t be the only one hearing it, everyone will have to! The music won’t always fit my mood either, most of the time I would have it annoy others for my amusement, because I’m immature and childish like that. Some other things I would do would punt a bunch of small dogs off of the Hoover Dam. Sounds mean I know, but don’t tell me you wouldn’t do it at least once. I would also blow up my car in a public place, not to hurt people but to surprise them. It would be remote activated by my keys and after making it honk 15 times it would explode. As you can see most of my life-ending-soon-goals are to annoy. So those of you who think that praying works and know how to pray should start praying that nothing world ending will happen not only because you don’t want to die, but also because you don’t want your last few weeks on this planet being irked by my shenanigans.
Blog #3: Fortune Cookies
-Devon Bealick
I love me some fortune cookies. When I go to any Chinese restaurant I make sure they give me some fortune cookies. I’ll get the take out and rifle through it just to make sure they put those cookies in there. When I eat in I don’t even ask for the check I ask for the fortune cookies. I have even done research on the subject. Did you know fortune cookies are an American invention? The real origin is a little fuzzy but Asian Americans popularized them in the twentieth century. Ironically we always eat fortune cookies with Chinese food, but actually they are based on a Japanese cookie. You see the Chinese took over the fortune cookie game around World War II when all the Japanese were in interment camps. Sometimes it is fun when reading the fortune inside the cookie and adding in bed to the end of the phrase. For example, “You will face a great challenge in the upcoming week- in bed.” I am always curious about how they decide what to put in the cookie. They are always really vague like “This week you might maybe make an extra small amount of money”. They should make them really specific like, “ next Tuesday around three o’clock you will see a woman in a blue dress, it is very important that you don’t speak to her or even make eye contact. If you follow these instructions you will make an extra thirty dollars this week.” You know how freaked out you would be around three o’clock on Tuesday when you see that woman in a blue dress- in bed.
I love me some fortune cookies. When I go to any Chinese restaurant I make sure they give me some fortune cookies. I’ll get the take out and rifle through it just to make sure they put those cookies in there. When I eat in I don’t even ask for the check I ask for the fortune cookies. I have even done research on the subject. Did you know fortune cookies are an American invention? The real origin is a little fuzzy but Asian Americans popularized them in the twentieth century. Ironically we always eat fortune cookies with Chinese food, but actually they are based on a Japanese cookie. You see the Chinese took over the fortune cookie game around World War II when all the Japanese were in interment camps. Sometimes it is fun when reading the fortune inside the cookie and adding in bed to the end of the phrase. For example, “You will face a great challenge in the upcoming week- in bed.” I am always curious about how they decide what to put in the cookie. They are always really vague like “This week you might maybe make an extra small amount of money”. They should make them really specific like, “ next Tuesday around three o’clock you will see a woman in a blue dress, it is very important that you don’t speak to her or even make eye contact. If you follow these instructions you will make an extra thirty dollars this week.” You know how freaked out you would be around three o’clock on Tuesday when you see that woman in a blue dress- in bed.
Hi. I'm from a little town in Arkansas called Chew With Your God Damn Mouth Shut.
It's weird how little things that most people don't notice bother me. And I tell you this story in the hopes that I don't seem completely neurotic, but we'll see. Yesterday, I was in the dining hall, comparing one banana to another banana (because god forbid College Eight should have to part with more than one piece of fruit at a time... pricks) and I was about to make my decision when I looked up and saw this girl. She had a tangled mat of dirty blonde hair, a pug nose, and a little black dress that she looked like she needed to fight to get into that morning. She had her plate of food and was munching on some of it before she got to her table. But she was chewing with her mouth WIDE FUCKING OPEN. Not just the normal open-mouth chew, when you accidentally bit off a bigger piece than intended, or you just open it once or twice when you're chewing. And she had an enormous fucking pie hole. It was as if she was so proud of the sandwich she made, she felt like sharing its demise with the rest of us. That, or she was going for a certain look, which must have been "alligator that needs braces". If not, that's unfortunate because she pulled it off rather intensely. If that doesn't work, here's another way to picture it: take a pug's face, file down the teeth a bit, stick some hay on top for the "it's cool to be messy" look, and stuff its gross, gnarly ass into a black Urban Outfitters dress. Then give it a sandwich. Watching this girl, I really had to fight the urge to some up to her, grab her by the shoulders, and scream "You're in college! You are an adult for Christ's sake, act like one!" I don't know about you guys, but pretty much everyone I know got over chewing with their mouths open when they were in the third grade or so. In fact, I worked at a day care this summer, and I knew six-year-olds that had better manners than this chick. That being said, I think I'm done here. But I shall leave you with this little ditty just to get my point across:
-Love,
Caroline Klink
-Love,
Caroline Klink
Will's post
Will Poulin’s “blog”
An excerpt from my short time as a ghostwriter for J.K. Rowling after “The Sorcerer’s Stone” got really popular and she had to crank out a sequel before everybody lost interest.
Suddenly, Harry got hit with one of those balls that hit people. The heavy ones. The fat ones that do absolutely nothing but fly around ruining people’s days. The Rush Limbaugh ones, you know? Anyway Harry gets hit with one of those and it breaks his arm {add in adjectives like ‘sickening’ ‘crunching’ ‘searing’ ‘Rush Limbaugh’} He somehow survives the fall {magic?} and rolls along the grass as the crowd looks on in horror. Ron and Hermione run up to him but are pushed out of the way by professor Lockhart. Since they are quantifiably the worst friends in the world, they stand there and do absolutely nothing while the Dan Quayle of magic tries to help Harry’s compound fracture. Seriously, the bone is sticking out of the flesh in several places. What are you going to do, Lockhart, smile at it? Douchebag. Anyway, Lockhart goes up to Harry and rolls up his...robe…sleeves? {what do robes even have?} and gets out his wand to do some magic.
“No, not you! Anyone but you!” yelled Harry, “Ron, Hermione, HELP!”
Ron shrugs and continues to jam his thumb deeper and deeper up his own ass while complaining about how unpopular he is compared to the 12 year old wizard who nearly died saving hundreds of people’s lives like five months ago. Hermione appears to be reciting facts about the human skeletal system to a blank brick wall.
“Stand back, children” yelled Lockhart, “I’m about to do some serious magic up in here!”
He raised his wand and screamed, “Akefay agicmay atinlay apcray!”
“Wait, was that just pig Latin?” Harry shouted, “Oh you son of a bitc..”BAM!! There is a blinding, white light and Harry is thrown another three feet or so. He gets up and immediately tries to move his broken arm, but can’t. In fact, he can’t feel his right arm at all. He panics and grabs it, reacting with a mix of horror and disgust as he holds up a limpProxy-Connection: keep-alive
Cache-Control: max-age=0
C rubbery, not-at-all-conducive-to-erotic-imagery tube of flesh. Instead of fixing his broken bones, Lockhart had completely removed them! {dun dun DUNNNNN}
“Oh what the fuck is THIS SHIT?” Harry yelled, flailing his floppy meat-pipe wildly in
the air. Lockhart stood there and stared at his wand as if it had just ordered him a pizza. “Now, Harry, don’t panic, it’s just a slight mix up. But hey, your bone isn’t broken anymore, right?” Lockhart was really grasping at straws here. Harry was slightly displeased, “You took all my bones away you fucking ass! What the hell? What the fuck did you think you were doing? YOU ARE THE WORST WIZARD EVER. If Transformers 2: Revenge of the Fallen was a wizard you would still be so much fucking worse! Science cannot build a machine capable of calculating HOW MUCH SHIT YOU SUCK at wizarding, and I don’t even know what science is!” Lockhart stood there confused. He had trouble dealing with emotions that were not admiration. “Harry, that’s a little harsh, don’t you think? I was just trying to help.” He really should have kept his job as an Abercrombie and Fitch model. This was clearly not working out. “HELP??” screamed Harry. “Help? How am I supposed to live like this? What the fuck is Harry Jr. supposed to do tonight, just hump this flaccid piece of shit? I am so Rush Limbaugh right now!” At that, Harry sprung up and flung his arm around Lockhart’s neck like a garrote and started choking him like the bitch he is. “TAKE. THIS. YOU. ARE. THE. WORST. CHARACTER. EVER.” He was about to let go when there was a violent CRACK! and Lockhart’s head flew straight off, revealing him to actually be one of THE CRAB PEOPLE!!!
-end of chapter-
An excerpt from my short time as a ghostwriter for J.K. Rowling after “The Sorcerer’s Stone” got really popular and she had to crank out a sequel before everybody lost interest.
Suddenly, Harry got hit with one of those balls that hit people. The heavy ones. The fat ones that do absolutely nothing but fly around ruining people’s days. The Rush Limbaugh ones, you know? Anyway Harry gets hit with one of those and it breaks his arm {add in adjectives like ‘sickening’ ‘crunching’ ‘searing’ ‘Rush Limbaugh’} He somehow survives the fall {magic?} and rolls along the grass as the crowd looks on in horror. Ron and Hermione run up to him but are pushed out of the way by professor Lockhart. Since they are quantifiably the worst friends in the world, they stand there and do absolutely nothing while the Dan Quayle of magic tries to help Harry’s compound fracture. Seriously, the bone is sticking out of the flesh in several places. What are you going to do, Lockhart, smile at it? Douchebag. Anyway, Lockhart goes up to Harry and rolls up his...robe…sleeves? {what do robes even have?} and gets out his wand to do some magic.
“No, not you! Anyone but you!” yelled Harry, “Ron, Hermione, HELP!”
Ron shrugs and continues to jam his thumb deeper and deeper up his own ass while complaining about how unpopular he is compared to the 12 year old wizard who nearly died saving hundreds of people’s lives like five months ago. Hermione appears to be reciting facts about the human skeletal system to a blank brick wall.
“Stand back, children” yelled Lockhart, “I’m about to do some serious magic up in here!”
He raised his wand and screamed, “Akefay agicmay atinlay apcray!”
“Wait, was that just pig Latin?” Harry shouted, “Oh you son of a bitc..”BAM!! There is a blinding, white light and Harry is thrown another three feet or so. He gets up and immediately tries to move his broken arm, but can’t. In fact, he can’t feel his right arm at all. He panics and grabs it, reacting with a mix of horror and disgust as he holds up a limpProxy-Connection: keep-alive
Cache-Control: max-age=0
C rubbery, not-at-all-conducive-to-erotic-imagery tube of flesh. Instead of fixing his broken bones, Lockhart had completely removed them! {dun dun DUNNNNN}
“Oh what the fuck is THIS SHIT?” Harry yelled, flailing his floppy meat-pipe wildly in
the air. Lockhart stood there and stared at his wand as if it had just ordered him a pizza. “Now, Harry, don’t panic, it’s just a slight mix up. But hey, your bone isn’t broken anymore, right?” Lockhart was really grasping at straws here. Harry was slightly displeased, “You took all my bones away you fucking ass! What the hell? What the fuck did you think you were doing? YOU ARE THE WORST WIZARD EVER. If Transformers 2: Revenge of the Fallen was a wizard you would still be so much fucking worse! Science cannot build a machine capable of calculating HOW MUCH SHIT YOU SUCK at wizarding, and I don’t even know what science is!” Lockhart stood there confused. He had trouble dealing with emotions that were not admiration. “Harry, that’s a little harsh, don’t you think? I was just trying to help.” He really should have kept his job as an Abercrombie and Fitch model. This was clearly not working out. “HELP??” screamed Harry. “Help? How am I supposed to live like this? What the fuck is Harry Jr. supposed to do tonight, just hump this flaccid piece of shit? I am so Rush Limbaugh right now!” At that, Harry sprung up and flung his arm around Lockhart’s neck like a garrote and started choking him like the bitch he is. “TAKE. THIS. YOU. ARE. THE. WORST. CHARACTER. EVER.” He was about to let go when there was a violent CRACK! and Lockhart’s head flew straight off, revealing him to actually be one of THE CRAB PEOPLE!!!
-end of chapter-
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