I've Gotta Talk To You, But I'm So Sick Of Words, Words, Words.

Words matter. Ask Michael Richards. More than thumbs, a useless appendix and .001% of our genetic code, language is what separates from the rest of the life on this planet. Yeah, Dolphins and Whales, I'm talking to you. Screeching in the water at each other doesn't count as language.

Words matter. Like any other tool, they are designed for a purpose, and when you misuse them, you look as dumb as a monkey scratching his ass with a hammer.

For instance, here's how Mr. Marylin Manson was described in a blurb on the front page of myspace.com today:

Marilyn Manson
Rock / Alternative
Los Angeles, CA

Its been four years since his last studio album, the always provocative and *affluent* musician is back with a new studio album entitled, Eat Me, Drink Me (interpret that how you will). The album has all the characteristics of the Manson you expect, and more. Listen to it here on MySpace exclusively before it hits the shelves this Tuesday!

Set aside for a moment the sub-mediocre quality of the text. Admittedly, few people will read it. Look at the words, though. I added the *'s to draw your attention to the use of the word "affluent" to describe Mr. Manson. Below is an entry from Wikipedia, regarding the word "affluent."

Affluent
From Wikipedia, the free encyclopedia

Affluent (noun):

* a tributary of a river

Affluent (adjective):

* being wealthy, or in a in a state of affluence
o For those being in an economically favorable disposition in American society, see Affluence in the United States

So, either they're saying he feeds into a river, or he's wealthy. Oh, these kids today with their well-to-do waterway music! Now, what's got me ranting is that the idiots who wrote this garbage most likely scored an even 800 on the SATs, slid through college taking worthless courses and majoring in nonsense like Film and Video Studies without ever stopping to ask any questions or actually learn anything... and now they have jobs where they can possibly influence (or affluence) millions of people.

And that's how we get stupider.

You've Made It Pretty Clear What You Like

I have very little to say today. I will point out that I passed the one year mark at my job last week. Didn't see that one coming. And one of my bosses wants to come see me perform sometime. I just hope she respects me in the morning.

Check out last night's funny trainwreck!

He Who Fucks Nuns Will Later Join The Church

I feel like I avenged myself tonight. I had a setlist. I had themes. I had callbacks (planned). I had a dead pope joke. By the way, I was feeling reverential this afternoon, and tried to create something that expressed that reverence and respect for God. This is how it turned out. Listen.

By the way, it was Pope Formosus.

I Care, I Swear.

Two years ago a quarter of a million people died in a massive tsunami. Millions were left homeless, stranded, orphaned and destroyed. At the same time here in Oklahoma, I was contemplating ending a two-year relationship with my then girlfriend, and I was ashamed to be breaking up with someone the day after Christmas. I was trapped inside my head, going over the reasons behind my decision, thinking and rethinking the situation. I had no idea what was happening in the Pacific Ocean. All I could see was what was going on in my little world: the impending heartbreak, the betrayal. And I felt guilty, and scared. In fact I was dreading it terribly. Once it was finally over and done with I felt relieved, as I'm sure most people do after a relationship is over (whether they want to admit it or not). I went to bed, woke up in the morning, and finally realized that while I was playing out my little drama, a quarter of a million people had died in the kind of terror that no one should be subjected to. I woke up and the world slapped me in the face. I woke up and realized that my fear and my pain were not the Greek tragedy I thought they were. My trauma was banal, and insipid, and utterly pedestrian. Sometimes it's the night sky that makes us feel small and insignificant, and sometimes it's the knowledge that 250,000 of us can be wiped out in the blink of an eye.

I still feel bad about it. I don't regret that I ended a long term relationship like I did, when I did. But rather, I'm ashamed that when I saw news stories about the anniversary tonight, and when I think about the tsunami, I think of it against the backdrop of my own personal problems and "issues." Two years later, and the deaths of two hundred and fifty thousand men, women and children are still inextricably tied to my own emotional trauma.

That makes me feel petty, and vain, and arrogant. And it reminds me that I'm human.