Tag Archives: decline of Western culture

Vision Bored

And for that reason I'm outOn New Year’s Day, I texted “Come over, we’re making Vision Boards!” I don’t know why I woke up and conjured that one up, because that is stupid magical thinking Oprah/hippie crap, but it seemed like cutting little pieces out of magazines while drinking mimosas might be a reasonable way to pass a slightly cotton-fluff-wrapped day.

To my shock, no one protested, and everyone showed up with bags of magazines and booze. We snipped and shredded a collection that ranged from the Amex Travel mag that always reminds how unrich I am to the Harvard Business Review to High Times to American Bungalow. We were lost in a flurry of diamonds and safaris, sticky rainbow buds and tasteful woodwork, plus pithy quotes like “To really motivate someone, shut up already.” American Bungalow also started to sound dirty if you said it enough times.

The kids finished up first, but the adults know how to really fill a page. Negative space has no place in a vision board! That would be so…negative. And we sniffed the glue sticks, I admit. Hours later, we moved on to pasta, and the course of the year was set in stone.

Everything started falling into place almost immediately: 11:11 on the clock at least twice a day, patterns in license plates, old friends coming out of the woodwork, full moons, black cats, and dead birds. If you can auger with it, it showed up.

As of now, everything I put on my board as an abstract hope has already come true for the year. I guess I should have used a bigger board or dreamed a bit bigger. It’s always sad to be confronted with the limitations of one’s creativity.

What if I had pasted in a picture of Buzzfeed and juxtaposed it with a mushroom cloud? Then Lambchop could stop being plagued by quizzes that help you find out what kind of hummus you are based on your favorite Dr. Who character, or those 93 sloths that are perpetually unable to handle anything in their lives right now.

Still, it’s good to know magical thinking really works! Next year I’m going to make my board all about swimming in a money bin, and I’m going to take care of that North Korea thing, AIDS, cancer, people who talk about the paleo diet and/or Ayn Rand, and the practice of not finishing sentences because Lambchop can’t even. I mean THIS. For days. Because whatever.

Living in the ice age

Who wore it better?

Of course Pete Burns wore it better. If you didn’t know the answer, you have no business reading this site.  Get off our lawn. This is America, where we settle things with incoherent YouTube channels and extended ammo clips. Just to be clear, since we are on a national stage, Vomitola’s position has always been Make Love (with a suitably attractive person), Not War. This position is also known as “ankles aloft.”

I am on a rather trying regimen of regular exercise, no alcohol, and plenty of sleep, and while it does a body good, it still offers ample opportunity for mischief. There I was at the gym, trying to unfreeze my brain, when on comes “Atrocity Exhibition” on the iPod. Meanwhile, cable news flah flahs in the background (some other humanoid thought it was a good idea to attend the gym at the same time as me), and I wonder how relieved the cable news caption writers were that both Tucson and Tragedy start with a T. What if another city were involved? Would they have had to run with Slaughter in the Southwest? It’s no Horror in the Heartland.

So I kept flipping through my iPod looking for something peppier, but it seems I was destined for an extended Joy Division-Leonard Cohen jam, punctuated with zingy captions crawling by on TV. And they say exercise is good for depression? I’m going to go weep in the shower.

Plain speaking Americans speak

Get Out the Vomitola

It has come to our attention at Vomitola HQ that there is a national day of election tomorrow. Apparently there is a nascent party that favors lapsang souchong and stockading gay people, which is as contradictory a message as we could find.

Obama bring back arrested development

Anyway, I like to poach scallops in a spot of lapsang broth myself, so I thought maybe I could focus only on their fiscal conservative angle. After all, who isn’t using a pinch less caviar in these troubled times? I am no scientist, but I think it tastes just as nice that way. However, I soon realized that these otherwise upstanding tea-favoring people believe Glenn Beck is serious!

Glenn Beck is a Viking

We admit we are not even sure who is running tomorrow. It seems to be one giant free-for-all at this point. The names of the crazier people who stick out as, well, crazier people include Christine O’Donnell and Sharron Angle. Sarah Palin may or may not be running for something. Bristol Palin is running for Queen of the Danceteria. We shall go out on a limb and predict: a sweeping victory for the mentally interesting.

Bristol Palin shimmy

Although we may be able to prevent the Bristol thing if we vote as one nation for that nice Jennifer Grey. Nobody puts Baby in a corner!

(Because your kiss) Your kiss is on my chest

We are entering the bespoke t-shirt business!

It’s about time. We have Ideas. And Opinions. And what better way to share than the venerable yet humble message t-shirt? Make one for your dog today!

At the End of the Day, It Was What It Was

It was what it was.

You're the Mary

And don’t forget about the Meta Mug. There’s a story to go with this one. That we will never, ever tell you. Try this one on a stein.

Meta Mug

Let the Right One Slip In

We break from chewing on our nails for a “man on the street” interview with our own Lambchop.

“You got a donut??? Damn, I would have liked one of those! I would have voted for sanctity of life or marriage or fetal minimum wage for an old fashioned.”

Here she is, enjoying a free cone. Don’t worry, Monchichi! You can still make the rounds. In fact, you can do it even if you don’t vote! I am fairly sure she hadn’t even voted yet when this photo was taken. It also appears to have been taken in Italy, and there’s got to be something illegal about that. What would Karl Rove say about this?

In actual news, Obama appears to be leading in Indiana, with 0.0000435237384% of the polls reporting. Mr. H is on his way home with a brown paper sack full of refreshment.

Damn it feels good to be a gangster

Oh, uh uh, oh no we di’n’t. It’s time for Vomitola election coverage! You may recall that election day 2004 started off seemingly humdrum and ended with a vicious clash between the Morrisseys and Adam and the Ants (start reading from the bottom up. we can’t have nice things). We hit some dead air later that night around Ohio, and man, were we hung over the next day. We may be hungover tomorrow, but I pray it is a hangover of joy.

We’re reusing the graphic, but that’s only because we are poor. It has nothing to do with environmentalism. That’s for sissies like Al Gore.

I managed to vote bright and early, and the good ol’ Masonic Temple was packed. Everyone casually dropped mention of how ready they were for CHANGE, and how we NEED it without directly saying OBAMA RULES. Why are people so afraid to say “Suck it, you culture warring freaks, not this time?” You still get free Starbucks and Krispy Kreme and Ben & Jerry’s even if you let your true Socialist-mandating nature fly free. Although Mr. H reports from the field that riots may occur at Starbucks because people cannot understand why they only get free drip coffee and not grande lattes. What was I saying yesterday about running into doors?

LOL and the art of financial planning

Our retirement funds are only down 25%! We beat the market! Yay! Warren, look out. I will be the next secretary of the treasury. Or the navy. I always thought that would be fun. We are taking stock of our positions watching “Baby Mama” on OnDemand tonight. Mr. H is likely headed to a new job one of these days, so WTF do I do with the workplace-dependent retirement accounts? Roll lint and moths into an IRA with same brokerage and purchase exact same shares as 401(k), lie down with a hot water bottle and wait 30 years? I think that will work nicely. You got a better idea?

Now, my father ruined worrying about global financial crises for me twenty years ago, so please excuse my flippancy. It was 1987, and we were sitting in a McDonald’s, not too long after the October crash, and he said “You know, you’re not going to be able to eat hamburgers soon.” As I gummed my microwaved 49 cent burger, he went on to rail about what luxury I enjoyed, and how all this would come to a screeching halt, leaving us shooting claim jumpers in the streets and trading gold teeth for bread. We could lose our house, we could, oh hell, I forget the rest of the list. Trading cigarettes figured in at some point. I couldn’t eat without feeling nauseated for months. Now DEEP SHIT appears to be is HERE, and I am thrilled that I don’t have to worry anymore.

Oh! Oh! We were supposed to worry about nuclear power too.

I bet he’s gleefully grating Krugerrands to pay for groceries with gold dust. And hey, if it really turns out to be that bad, I’m going to move in with him and let my kid wake him up at 6 a.m. every. single. day.

All the children are above average

Large Hadron Collider, you’re our only hope! I am painting my “Antimatter #1” foam finger right now. Actually, a ybab is doing that. You might say “No, she is eating the tongue depressor with a sticker on it that she got at the doctor’s office this morning.” You’d be right.

My head did not split open and manifest a black hole during the pro-drilling commercial that was on during “Meet the Press” yesterday. The ad proudly proclaimed that we need more energy, and we are sitting on 60 years of oil! Sure, some of it may be under cute animals, but that is really their poor choice. Am I daring to stare into the face of God when I wonder what happens once 60 years are up? Oh well, I’ll be dead then, killed in the mutant crusades. The other thing I don’t get are all the big ups for compressed natural gas. Yes, cleaner burning energy, lovely. Do people think natural gas floats serenely above the surface of the earth, like Casper the Friendly Ghost? There is drilling involved, no? Some of the gas can be obtained as a by-product of existing land raping, and that’s an efficient thing to do. But some of these ads remind us, my fellow Americans, that we have a lot of shale. Let’s just drill several states off the map, yielding a need for smaller government indeed.

Speaking of being dead, I am turning 25 again in a few weeks. I am fit as a fiddle. I eat omega-3s by the fistful. I have the maturity to delete all the “Fwd: FWD: Fwd: FWD MUST READ THIS: Fwd: Fwd: FWD can you believe these clown’s: Fwd” emails that spew forth from the AOL accounts of elderly relatives. OK, I reply all with Snopes links once in a while, but only if I haven’t taken my omega-3s. In short, some people are still pretty sure that Barack Obama is going to win and then rip off his suit on inauguration day to reveal some loose and flattering Jihadist wear, ready for climbing monkey bars or flying a plane. He may or may not say “Gotcha, honkies.” There is an animated GIF that offers insight.

And speaking of looking at the face of God, I am getting in on some of that action. It’s working for a lot of people, so why not me? In fact, I am becoming a Republican too. I don’t want the federal government spending my money, now that you mention it, if is is going to continue spending it the way it has been. Maybe this states’ rights thing has legs. I’ll be waaaay over here, walking places and using reusable bags like a stupid jerk. Don’t worry, I can’t afford organic arugula anymore. It must be the fault of those tax and spend Democrats in the White Hou– what’s that you say? Oh.

Here in Depraved Massachusetts, Channel 7 interrupted Sarah Palin’s RNC speech to cut to a segment on the transsexual on the new season America’s Next Top Model. The anchor all but said “Well, that’s enough of THAT, let’s move on to the important things.” There really is a place for all of us, doing special work.

In short, up is down, Cylons are scary, white is still and will always be white, and I need to counteract the effects of Disgusting Massachusetts with some small town values [Daily Show clip]. Like fishing. And drinking. Oh yes, there will be drinking. Can you believe I wrote this mess sober? Ha!

Let’s sue some bears, or arm them, or something. It hurts.

I haven’t discussed politics as they relate to this presidential election as of yet. I have thought about writing something down about a zillion times, and I end up feeling sick and queasy and just inarticulate and angry. Friday’s Republican VP pick actually filled me with cold fear. Here is someone who has the charisma and “spunk” that a certain segment of America loves to see, bringing a zeal and energy that John McCain cannot muster. She shoots the bacon, brings it home, fries it up in a pan. Just remember, Moxie is actually rather vile in the end.

I find her brand of ideology repugnant, and yet people are urging me to give her a chance because she is “nice.” Why is it always a woman who trades in nice? Why is this a redeeming quality when you have nothing ideologically in common with a person? Do Republicans sit around and say “Well, that Barack, I sure do disagree with him, but he is SO NICE!” I think not. Would I enjoy chatting with Ms. Palin? I am sure we could crack wise and yuck it up over some bourbon. Hot tub at the ski lodge all the way! Does this have anything to do with how I vote? Not in a million years.

Sadly, many people get their news exclusively from TV and interpreting photos of smiling, accessible looking people, and maybe she looks and sounds more like their America than the Democratic ticket does. To me, she sounds snide in her delivery (which I kind of like, as long as it’s not in an elected leader), inexperienced and full of contradictions, but different strokes, I guess. Her speech last night was certainly rapturous for a group of the homeliest white folks I have ever seen, so she’s on to something.

Anyway, I got off my ass, made my Obama donation
til it hurt, and I hugged my little girl, filthy abortion-seeking slut that she may turn out to be. The irony of Ms. Palin “choosing” to have her son despite his medical condition and her daughter’s “decision to have her baby” is priceless. Apparently it IS a choice, unless you’re everyone else. Probably 75% of the women I know have had abortions. I must run with the wrong crowd.

Miserable depression greeted some of us the day after the 2004 election, and I had actually allowed myself a ray of hope this time around, that maybe people would realize that we as a nation are NOT better off than we were eight years ago, not by a long shot. Me, eh, I’ve never been without private health insurance. I’ve never been afraid of not paying my rent. I’ve never gone without food or delicious, delicious prescription drugs. My credit card pays ME. I bet I’ll be fine, no matter who wins.

Until, I dunno, the economy contracts further, there’s no more budget for stupid web applications, we lose our jobs, blow through our emergency fund paying for our own health insurance, and walk away from our mortgage. And eat the caaaaaaat, if she doesn’t eat us first. Unless you are at a McCain level of wealth, chances are you’re closer to the edge than you might like to consider. It’s the economy, stupid. The endless beast of a war. The environment. Social services. Equality. Possibly three Supreme Court justices. I have never been more scared than in realizing that the majority of the country may not be happily champing at the bit to undo the last eight years. I just can’t picture these two chatting up foreign leaders, but I guess after W, anything really is possible. Let’s just go ahead and put an addition on the double-wide and park it on the White House lawn and call it a day.