During last night's episode of Last Comic Standing, John Reep touched on something that resounds with a lot of people - take the stupid Bluetooth earbud off your head if you're not actually on the phone. His comment was "You look like a tool." I think it's a behavior that deserves, due to its prevalence, a bit more attnetion.

I've never understood it myself, why people do this. It makes about as much sense as taking your steering wheel with you after you park your car. I wondered if maybe it was a status thing, like, "Check me out, I've got a Bluetooth thingie." That theory doesn't hold up though, when you consider the cost of an earbud. What're they, like 50 bucks?

You know what I think it is? I think most people are just plain old morons, and for some reason it makes them feel neato to wear the earbud. Maybe it makes them feel futuristic, like a character in a sci-fi novel; which is about as sad as people who dress up for the Renaissance Fair. Or maybe it makes them feel important, like "People are constantly ringin' my bling, yo. I gots to keep my Bluetoof on G"; which is sadder still, because they're not actually talking on it.

The fact of the matter is, the only time you need to use the stupid thing is if you're on the phone while already doing something with both hands, like making dinner, driving, or beating someone about the head and neck with a Big Bertha Titanium 454. Unfortunately, people use the earbud for no apparent reason all the damn time. They're not even all that convenient when you do have to use them (the volume is lower, they drain your battery, etc), so why the hell would you sit there and use it if your stupid phone is right there in your pocket?

The main takeaway here is that wearing an idle Bluetooth has become a universal signifier; it's the modern equivalent of a dunce cap.

Posted by: shank at 11:44 AM | Comments (3) | Add Comment
Post contains 341 words, total size 2 kb.

Have any of you finished the last Harry Potter book?

I read it this weekend, and finished last night at the godawful early hours of this morning.

All throughout reading these books, I've noticed that they make fine parables for the current war on terrorism/Islamofascism. I'd be willing to bet, though, that the author's intention (much like Tolkien, I'd imagine) was not to create such a parallel. But I just can't help but see it. Does anyone else? Just figured I'd ask...

Posted by: shank at 07:34 AM | Comments (5) | Add Comment
Post contains 90 words, total size 1 kb.

Recently, I started bringing some CD's to work so I could listen to tunes in the office. We hired a new analyst a few weeks back, and she heard the music coming from my office the other day. I think it was some Mississippi Delta stuff or some other old southern blues bastardization of gospel music. "OOOOHHhh! That's nice!" Her exuberance was somewhat off-putting.

The next day, I said to her "Hey, I just wanted to let you know that I'm not shutting my door to be rude or anything; I just wouldn't want my music to bother anyone." I figured if no one heard it, they wouldn't be bothering me telling me what they thought of it. I already know it's good, that's why I'm listening to it, please don't interrupt me with your opinion or that epileptic, pathetic, middle-aged cracker ass-shaking of yours.

"Oh, no problem at all. Especially if you keep playing that jazz stuff you had yesterday!"

Jazz my ass. I smoldered a bit on the inside. Who the hell confuses blues rock with jazz? I kept my mouth shut on the grounds that saying a word would make me look like a music snob, or at least just a prick. Can't have people knowing I'm a prick, no sir. I smile weakly at her and pretend I'm busy.

This morning she comes in and gushes, "You like jazz right?"
"Yeah." I try not to imagine what kind of musical selection or conversation is going to follow because I might laugh. Or cry.
"Have you heard the new John Mayer CD?" I fight the tears welling up inside me. "It's so great! I mean, it's all jazz!" The tears begin to give way to disappointment. "I'll have to bring it in, or maybe I can just burn a copy on my computer!" She sounds so excited. Excited like a retard.

I seriously considered telling her that John Mayer isn't jazz, that I'm utterly perplexed at how she came to such a distinction; that he is in fact just shallow, corny, pop pablum formulated to appeal to a specific audience of juveniles who view the world as a simple place with simple problems and equally simple solutions; that jazz is anything but that; and if she brings in a copy of that CD (which I'd graciously have to listen to all the way through at least once, to avoid the prick problem above) it'll just give me a goddamned headache. But I decide that maybe acting like a complete psycho is not a good idea, so I give some kind of non-committal "Heh" or something.

I suppose the real shame is I hear that he's a good musician; and I just can't get past the lyrics. It's like chocolate covered poo. You're all, "Look there's something covered in chocolate! Yay!" Then you bite into it and find yourself somewhat disgusted, probably nauseated, and feeling like "Why would someone do such a cruel thing like that? Why?"

Posted by: shank at 11:33 AM | Comments (4) | Add Comment
Post contains 505 words, total size 3 kb.