Things are Falling Apart
I wish I had something poetic to say in this trying time. Perhaps something about a summer of discontent, but I'm at a loss for words right about now, at least words that are much more fluid and I'll settle for the harshest language I can muster. It seems that the old adage about it all coming down to "who you know" is quite fallible and, in my mind, false. Sure, who you know can amount to a lot these days, perhaps everything, but there's still instances where having someone in your corner doesn't guarantee anything, even the lowliest of positions.

To clue in those unfamiliar with the tale, I applied for a position, nothing stellar and certainly not something one builds a career on, at the very library that I was employed by these past two semesters. My confidence was high, to say the least, and the fact that someone so valiantly bowed out so as to not create an obvious conflict between candidates, although I know they don't see it quite in those terms, seemed to do nothing but bolster my chances.

Then it all came crashing down. A blow to my self-esteem, to be sure, and a definite signal to me that perhaps I haven't made the wisest decisions in the last year. Perhaps, and I'm just thinking out loud here in my forum, I made a mistake. Switching gears midstream, or not even setting off from the dock in the case of my former, previous degree, led me to believe this was a wise move on my part. The right move. Joining a profession that I thought would be a perfect fit, and all this because I was both encouraged and interested in pursuing it. I did so out of a genuine interest. Apparently, so did a lot of other people, people with a lot more to offer than I do.

In my honest, brutal assessment, and I realize I'm venting a lot of pent up frustration, this profession is a joke. Charlatans who profess a profound love for all things library related are coddled and rewarded for their phony, rose-tinted outlook. Others, not just myself, are forced to wallow in the muck fighting over the scraps, and these are the most meager of scraps to be sure. If this keeps up, though, those fighting for the scraps will have one less competitor to deal with. It's just not worth it.

Comedians for Hire
Anybody who is even remotely familiar with VH1, the seemingly more grown-up alternative to MTV, knows that as cool and hip as the channel once was due to the fact that they actually played music instead of airing endless shows that had some loose connection to music is also well aware of the fact that this trend has reversed itself, much like that of MTV itself. The viewers of this channel have witnessed a transformation that seems both familiar and alien at the same time. VH1's metamorphosis into a channel that clearly resembles its sibling is both a sad occasion and a joyously ecstatic moment to embrace. Why? Because the shows that VH1 bombards viewers with are, for the most part, actually interesting in one way or another. This is in sharp contrast to the mindnumbing dumbness of the typical day's worth of programs on MTV.

The shows on VH1 seem to fall into one of three categories: 1. the behind the scenes life story (represented by Behind the Music, Driven, and The Fabulous Life of...) 2. shows of lists, and there have been too many of these to list (heh heh) 3. nostalgia and current events (see any of the numerous I Love the [insert decade](the 80s apparently being such a large decade that they did two series on the decade with the chronicle of the 90s premiering this summer and Best Week Ever. For the most part, I'm concerned with the last category because it seems to get the most play, which, to me, serves as both a blessing and a curse.

As a rule, the shows from the third category devoted to nostalgia are not so much hosted by any one person but consist of nothing more than various people commenting on the topic in question. For the most part, the panelists consist of some big-name stars, but the definite majority of the panel comes from the outer fringes of the entertainment industry, must notably my favorite group of starving artists the comedians. Every other panelist is a comedian in some way, shape, or form. Just take a look at the listing of panelists from Best Week Ever. A lot of them are funny, but a lot of them aren't, and this is due to a lot of factors.

To be blunt, these comedians are creeps. They have to be the most bottom barrel detritus of the comedic community, and they are asked to comment on everything from the Rubik's Cube to Britney Spears. I'd like to think that I'm familiar enough with the definition of irony and can recognize it in practice, but seeing a white-trash goon cracking base one-liners about sexy actresses doesn't fit. If these are the best comedians available for the production of these shows, then comedy is in trouble. What's most troubling about these shows and their panelists is the fact that they smack of desperation on so many fronts. I mentioned earlier that the change in format for VH1 was something of a blessing and a curse, and I guess I should explain. The interesting aspect about these shows is that they're incredibly addictive, especially those devoted to chronicling the 70s and 80s. You can burn a whole day watching these shows when they rerun the entire series, which they do frequently, and they are perfectly suited for repeat viewings. Nostalgia is great, and I can't think of too many people who don't enjoy waltzing down memory lane from time to time. The troubling aspect of these shows is that they smack of desperation by the panelists to remain in the public eye. The same panelists seem to frequent all the shows, and the danger of over-exposure is incredibly high. Comedy dies on these shows. The obvious grasp at relevance and hipness is a sad spectacle to watch, and these panelists have perfected it to an art form. My advice is to stick to stand-up, because this type of work isn't suited for lame-brain one-liners.

Music to My Ears
What does it say about you as a person when you start to realize that the music you listen to might be incredibly annoying to others around you, namely your parents? I've counted on numerous occasions instances when I'm listening to music in the house or in the car with my parents around, and I'm forced to admit that this probably sounds terrible to them. Sure, sometimes they indulge my joy at hearing music in the car, but I can almost feel their disgust at this atonal nonsense. Thus, I feel that it's necessary to lower the volume or change the disc to something much more neutral in tone.

Two recent examples:
1. On the trip home, I had Wilco's Yankee Hotel Foxtrot playing in the car. I suddenly thought, "God, Jeff Tweedy's voice isn't very pleasing to the ear. There's no sense of melody at all." So I ejected the disc and replaced it with the always welcome strains of Elvis.

2. Sitting in the living room, on the computer, I had Pavement's Slanted and Enchanted playing. My mother came in, and I'm forced to admit to myself that no matter how many times I read about how this is a "classic" album and no matter how much I like it, it's not very pleasing to listen to. In fact, some of it's really harsh. Stephen Malkmus screeches, screams, and shrieks a lot through several tracks. I shut it off.

It's not that my taste in music has changed in recent years into what I envision occurs to older people who aren't hip to the scene and narrowed dramatically. In fact, I'd say that, if anything, my tastes have expanded to include bands, genres, and specific albums that I had no previous interest in, a passing familiarity with, or an outright hatred towards.

I'm left to ponder whether this means that either I am becoming more considerate of others or that I'm starting to realize that some of the stuff I listen to is really noisy and annoying. I'd like to think that the former is true, but I suspect that the latter has more validity than I'd like to admit. Maybe I just need some headphones.

The Poetry of Spam
You might not be able to find everything on the Internet, but what you can find is poetry in all forms. Poetry is now being composed by spammers in an effort to fool filtering devices, and some of it isn't too bad. Here are a few examples.

grand piano haunches over 85
Most cowards believe that related to stovepipe know over chestnut
And give lectures on morality to the dark side of her football team
Clodhoppers remain comely
Geranium documentation exogamy cat concentric


fire hydrant 1 onlookers
For example, of impresario indicates that alchemist around sandwich find subtle faults with onlooker toward salad dressing
Any necromancer can ignore about snow, but it takes a real clodhopper to over asteroid.
Helena, the friend of Helena and trembles with bullfrog related to
Still borrow money from her from for turn signal, boogie her customer defined by with for fundraiser
Crosswise ghastly bully addition ineffectual allergic

Everything's on the Internet
I was under the impression that the Internet served as a portal into all the information that ever existed, a vast plain of links and more links that provide everything you've ever wanted to know and see at your fingertips. My impressions, as I'm sure most are aware, were slightly off. It's funny because what I was looking for I was sure that I'd find somewhere, perhaps buried on a fansite, but there nonetheless. Simply put, I was looking to see if anyone anywhere posted any reviews or notes about the Wilco concert I attended Sunday night as part of the Three Rivers Arts Festival. I looked and found: nothing. The only mention of the concert was in conjunction with the festival itself as a part of a calendar. Other than that, nothing.

I've read so much about fansites devoted to everything imaginable on the Internet. Aren't there such things as fanatics that populate discussion boards and such that post immediate reviews? Hell, even the major papers of Pittsburgh failed to review it. If Gore did invent it, he should have required that everything is available on it, and I mean EVERYTHING.

The Administration of Cliches
As time is winding down before the long-rumored harsh critique of the CIA for failing to foresee the disastrous events of September 11, 2001 is released by the commission in charge of investigating the events leading up to that day, it's occurred to me that we haven't heard much from the current administration as of late. I'm not talking about daily speeches, the occasional soundbite, or quote in the news or papers. There's always plenty of those floating around. I'm talking about something that we haven't heard from any member of this current group for weeks and weeks. Let me give you a hint about what I'm talking about. Do you remember the phrase "swatting flies?" Yes, you guessed it I'm referring to the dreaded cliche. We used to get a lot of these, several day at least, but now there's nothing. This is probably due to the fact that since the days when testimony stretched out over the course of a week, we as a country have been distracted by other heinous events that have taken the spotlight off the commission and its report. We've been robbed by them of their semantic twists and turns and phraseology that tries mightily to sound as if it means something important, that it conveys some sense of action, but, in fact, states nothing really. And I miss the feeling of being so grossly insulted.

Yes, there were certainly a bunch of cliches floating around in those days. You had Dr. Condoleezaa Rice making the claim from above that President Bush was "tired of swatting flies". If you recall Sen. Bob Kerrey didn't let this one slide by asking repeatedly for one example when President Bush actually "swatted any flies". She also gave us the important fact that there was never any "silver bullet" that could have prevented the event of September 11. Add to this all her stumbling and stammering over the "historical" nature of the infamous August 6, 2003 PDB, and you have quite a spokesperson for an administration whose own chief has well documented problems with the English language.

Two other memorable cliches used referred to the fact that CIA Director George Tenet's "hair was on fire". This was Richard Clarke's description of Tenet's demeanor after compiling intelligence that indicated that "something is going to happen." Clarke, Rice, and others are connected to the usage of the phrase "shaking trees," which apparently refers to the gathering of intelligence. Whatever any of it means, to the speakers or the listeners, these types of phrases, cliches, or whathaveyou just don't mean anything. They don't convey much of anything and are just ripe for satire. What we're left with now are the occasional creative semantics of Donald Rumsfeld and the mangling of the English language by our commander in chief. I miss the days, though, when it was almost guaranteed that you'd get some sort of new mumbo-jumbo by the White House. Come on, everyone, let's go "shake some trees" after we light our "hair on fire" and try to "swat some flies".