Ignorance is bliss...

I was recently at the Philadelphia Museum of Art with the girlfriend. We saw some great European art, Asian art, some really neat armor and weapon collections spanning back to the 13th century. We saw pieces by timeless artists, Monet, Cezanne, etc.

We eventually came to the Contemporary Art collection. I walked into a bad acid trip. I came across Cy Twombly's "Fifty Days at Ilium," which is an entire room consisting of ten massive paintings which play out the last fifty days of the Trojan War, as described by Homer in his "Iliad." Upon first look, I was a bit confused as to why an entire room in the Philadelphia Museum of Art would be devoted to scribbling on canvas. But I decided to push my ignorance aside for once and attempt to appreciate art that I obviously do not understand. I examined the paintings in the room carefully. They are all no doubt ripe with symbolism. Vibrant and violent colors definitely bring forth strong feelings in each piece. The childish handwriting does have an effect on the overall tone of the paintings, and he did seem to stay true to the theme of the the Iliad. These paintings are surely not something anyone who read the Iliad could easily create.

But I do have a few issues. I still don't appreciate this crap. Picasso created all kinds of abstract art, but he was fucking Picasso, he proved himself first. I was so fascinated with this Cy Twombly guy and his childish sketches that I went home and googled him to try and find any kind of painting that may require some kind of artistic ability, in the old school sense of the word. Nothing. No contemporary paintings, no self portraits, no normal, everyday paintings. Just more and more scribbles. And the man has such a brilliant mind that critics can see it in his scribbles and spashes of paint on canvas. I have no doubt that his mind definitely works in a different way than that of normal society. Give me 7 big canvases, 10 hours, a handful of psychadelic drugs and I will create an epic depiction of Dante's layers of hell that will attract any contemporary art critic for a further look. The only problem is I'll have to be smart enough to bullshit him into thinking there's any "substance" to it. "Well, I was tripping my ass off and I started to think that I actually was in hell, so I threw some red and black paint on the canvas and I feel that it evokes some terrifying emotions. I mean, I was fucking horrified at the time, my dog turned into the Devil and started screaming at me."

I saw a commercial for the military today. It's a highschool kid in his football uniform walking up to his father, who's sitting in his pickup truck. Here's how it goes:
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Father in his thick flannel jacket and baseball cap.

Rugged teenage boy, athletic, ripe with acne on his pubescent baby-face. Looks nervous and giddy like a school-girl.

Father: How was practice?
Son: Coach said I was a leader.
Father: (Proudly) You are.
Son: (Looks teary-eyed. About to become sentimental, then a look of manly assurance sweeps across his pimply face.) That's what they look for in the military.
Father: (Looks surprised and pleased) That his idea? (the coach)
Son: No, mine. I like bein' part of a team. And the physical challenge. I think I'd be good at it.
Father: (Impressed that his dumb-ass son may be good at something) You would be. But, I've got some questions. I think someone else might too.
Son: (Smiles sarcastically) Mom?
Father: (Laughs) Get home early.

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Not that I have anything against serving in the military, but I find this commercial to be utterly ridiculous, and if you don't, then you are part of the reason humanity will eventually become extinct. This is a clear attempt to reach out to young, unintelligent teenagers who are unsure of themselves. Make them think they can make a difference.

I played highschool football. My coach told me I was a leader. My coach told 15 other guys on the team that they were leaders. My coach told the waterboy and stat-girl that they were leaders. We all felt pretty good about ourselves.

But, to enlist in the military after highschool does not put you in a leadership position. It puts you in the position to blindly follow the orders of smarter men. You are going to be a fucking private in the Army, Airman in the Air Force, whatever... you will be yelled at, bossed around, and taught not to think for yourself. You will get promoted, maybe in 8 years obtain command of a unit of soldiers, and then you will be given more orders. You will only lead other young naive men with orders that you yourself were given by higher ups. It goes on and on, even if you are an officer (a job for which you need a college degree).

The father no doubt understands the risks associated with Military service, but he's proud of his son. And they are sarcastically laughing at the mother! Of course they are! She probably doesn't want her son fighting for a bunch of old white guys who want oil. She knows that her son will only be a foot soldier. He's too stupid to do anything worthwhile in the military. He's the kid that fights, then comes back traumatized, or worse, in a box.

Now, the military offers some pretty damn good benefits when it comes to housing and tuition reimbursement. It's a pretty financially secure job. And when it comes down to it, defending democracy and our freedom is something that must be done. But propaganda like this should not be on television. The boy is too young to understand what the fuck he's getting himself into. This commercial is convincing young highschool boys that it's manly to join the military because they can carry guns and shoot brown people and have their fathers' respect.

Intro

I have never blogged before, and it annoys me a bit. Who cares about what I have to say? I don't. That's what a diary is for. Therefore, I am going to write about things that annoy me. Like this blog.


I guess before I start my campaign of cynicism, I will introduce myself a bit. I am a hypocrite. I write blogs about how I don't like blogs. I vote Democrat but I don't like poor people.

They annoy me.
Get a job.

I hate obnoxious drivers, but I am one. I hate big corporations, but I shop at Walmart. I am against child labor, but I wear Nike's. I am a vegetarian, but I eat fish. I hate fake people, but I'm a bartender.

I hate fake people, but I'm fake.


For a while (as long as it takes for me to get bored) I'll be ranting about things I notice throughout my days. Which will actually reveal a lot about myself... so that makes me a hypocrite once more, because I could just be writing this in a diary.