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Friday, January 29, 2010


Say what you need to say. Do not be afraid to sing the songs of infinite tunes. What more do I need to write? Do I need to write? Is that what people will listen to? Why is it that words hold this majestic power? Thors hammer, slamming into hallow grounds changing lives through innocuous sentences.

Omega point, Is that all anyone is ever shooting for? A singular break. A slap. A flash. A note unblemished. Culminations of all we ever dream. Angels and Demons playing mahjong in the sand while little creatures peel my skin into the the bright light that I need to be.


Thursday, January 28, 2010

Lets talk about the iPad

And lets talk about how much of embarrassment I feel for being an Apple fanboy this day. Look, I love apple products I do. I love my mac, my iPods and the fact that I can act like a pretentious hipster nerd because I walk around with a fruit stamped on my electronics.

This is all well and good, but goddamn Apple did you ever drop the ball on this one. I had much hope in the rumors that flooded the market prior to your less than stellar debut. There was concept art, app speculation, hardware theorists and boys and girls with multi-functionality based wet dreams. Oh what joy you inspired! I think I even saw some Steve Job's hentai at one point.

But then, judgment day came. The clouds gathered as the wind blew its fruitful tune. The echos of steel hooves trembled upon an empty stage. Job's was near, and he had a message. An industry up onto himself, Steve took the stage with such pomp and swagger that his very presence struck fear into his competitors hearts. His speech debasing the validity of the Netbook culture spawned such confused hearts that the salivating customer could only be reached by one logical conclusion. The iPad HAD to be near perfect. No?


It seemed Job's idiocy had reached new heights that day. His words were a slap to the face, the intelligent consumer, and a pander to the ignorant globalized denominator. Fun.

Let me remind you dear reader that he WILLFULLY launched a product that even though holds a one gig specialzed processor, it is only able to run one app at a time. Only one. This means no browsing the net while listening to my itunes, no watching a movie while running my message client in the background. Zero application multi-tasking. Can you imagine what sort of idiocy must have been allowed to take root for such crowned thinking to over-rule? Job's can.

Seriously, what is wrong with you? How do you even fathom, much less instill a moronic decision like this? What skewed version of a professional or urban youth does your marketing team believe in?! Either the hamster left its cage, or you got some serious firing to do.

In addition to this horrendous OS limitation, Steve somehow also managed to forget to include flash on launch. So, in addition to not being able to multi-task, I guess youtube is also out of the picture as is any web based divx website. Brilliant.

But wait, I have more good news! This oversized and overpriced "pad" also doesn't seem come with any built in camera OR USB PORT. I guess having to pay an extra $50 to use any of my peripherals, including my $20 memory stick, will feel like money well spent. Nice.

I suppose the iPads only saving grace is the blazing fast 3G network and the ability to use some iTouch and iPhone apps. I suppose a dedicated internet reader is not out of the question but with such abysmally low critical acclaim worldwide, will developers even care to do anything else with the product? Or will it fall to the wayside of the Macbook Air and Apple TV? What niche market do you expect this to fill when even a camera or multi-conferencing capabilities are out of the question.

The too much money and need to look cool population? Probably.

Oh Apple, like many before me have said if I wanted an e-book reader I would have bought a Kindle. Not your overpriced pad which by the way, could have had serious potential even as an art tablet. Alas, it seems silicon valley is littered with the dreams of the naive and innocent.

So here is to you, iPad, my oversized iTouch. May you suck the pennies from the daughters father, and may your profit margin once again expand as you rake in millions with your overpriced and under-functional product.


Monday, January 18, 2010

Lady Gaga, Im sorry I called you a hermaphrodite.

I mean, you still probably are one but damn girl/boy can you sing.
Listen to the whole is GOOD.

Wednesday, January 13, 2010

Hate Mail #2


Subject: Attn. Brain, Please stop it.

Since you have stopped responding to hard slaps and aggressive tones, I have come to the firm conclusion that other avenues of discussion need to be explored. Cordial letters such as these have often garnered positive results and seeing as how we have to maintain a working relationship within the confines of these small spaces, may I suggest a short but abrupt letter that quells our rocky relationship?

Why do our discussions always seem to tinker down, bells whistling, into tunnels of pure disillusionment? Why is it that you just cannot seem to see what I have to give to soft spongey ball of squish? Everytime I try and make a point, you come bounding in high on your horse of logic and subjective fallacy. Well, excuse me cognitive function, but your not always on the ball either ok? How many times have you fucked up my good times and rock and roll just because “its not a good idea,” or because brain injury is not a feesable option for today.


Look, we have to come to some form of agreement ok? A set of rules by which we can both abide by and take pleasure in. This manifesto should include but not be limited to a “no piss me off” clause with a subclass category of “easy peasy.” I’ll have the barrister start the paperwork.

Whatever happened to the good ol' days of slack jawed neural branches willing to flee from their synaptic treasure caves at a moments notice? Why can't we bring that sort of mentality back? I’m getting tired of all of this “intelligence” bullshit.

Now that this letter has formally turned into one of grievances, I should make note of the throbbing headaches which you feel so inclined to share with me.

Please turn down the music Mr. Brain. No one likes all the noise and honestly the Oprah shit got old a little while ago. Call it some form of Stockholm something, but the truth is I am really starting to revel in the mess which you have so “carefully” created. *Cough*

Truth be told, I do feel a little sorry for you but GODDAMN is it ever fun to take the piss out of you. Why do you always have to be so all up in my face brain? Every goddamn day its the same tired story. Brush your teeth Husain, comb your hair Husain, make solid life decisions Husain. Over and over again, day in and day out.

Get some new material.

Now, I have this distinct feeling that once you start to read this letter you will assume your natural position of throbbing and convulsing with anger. May I suggest a prescription of deep breaths and multiple cycles of RNA coding? Our company subscribes to a solid HMO it seems.

Look I am a drama queen, this much I know. My propensity towards personality defects across the world has allowed me to perfect this state. The drama that seemingly oozes out of my pores is a time and tested scientific measure based solely upon a cynicistic MTV ideal.

I am completely aware of my defects Mr. Brain so now the question begs, are you aware of your douche-bagginess? I recognize my faults brain. You on the other hand live in a land of some fantastical holographic utopia. I think its about time we find some neutral ground.

May I suggest a cannaboid receptor? You know you waaaana. :)

Metal Detectors.

Watch your belongings! Watch your baggage! Watch that turban hanging from his bandage!

Security guards stumble, fist to fist.
Heads banging on walls
Echoing their empty ticks.

Did you pack that bag yourself sir? Did you lock that key?
Can I see some of your identification please?

I wait, while shiny badges comes into focus
A melancholy sniff, a sigh into sadness.

And there I sigh and wait for his words to spill forth,
A single syntax to show me the way north.

There will be a walk this way sir, comes the tap tap of his stick,

A lean in his step.
A curl on his bludgeoned mitt.

I know not what you have wrot, for this I am unsure,
Just follow this way and all will be cured.

I cringe as I weave
Words shuddering through my syllabled court.
And there waiting in the lie of eye,
A breath cajoled in contort.

There will be no argument sir,
For please heed this advice.
No trouble for me,
But for you:

There shall be thrice.

An eye flicks as his fellows shift side to step.
Hands reaching for cold metal,
A death within the next.

I scream retort, tounge blinded by light:

My mind it bleeds, a cognition it seethes!
A heresy on my life, for it is a bane on my knife!
Know my name you scum for it will be yours to wait!
A hissed forked tongue,
Shiny apple innate.

I smile and nod, knowing what waits beyond his heckled grin.
Crystallized teeth chattering
Incessant relief of too many words spoken since.

I bend to my knees as silence graces my face.
The empty barrel clicks.
The music escapes.

Sunday, January 10, 2010

Nikola Tesla says:

Though free to think and act, we are held together, like the stars in the firmament, with ties inseparable. These ties cannot be seen, but we can feel them.

I wonder if Tesla believed in Time Travel and Wormholes? Blimps in the night. Its a passing thought.


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