Wednesday, 28 January 2009

• Currently Troubadour By K'naan see related

  The Blogdratic Formula

  I’m a dreadfully boring kind of guy.  There’s nothing dynamic about my life, and it’s reflected in my formulaic approach to writing blog entries.  First, I pick a superficial topic off the top of my head that most people might generally care about.  This topic is usually something cool, such as the Red Hot Chili Peppers, Shia LaBeouf, Liz Phair, or A.C. Slater.  Next, I pick a meaningful topic that only some people would likely care about, such as love, uncontrollable emotions, political elections, and Libertarianism.   And then I connect these two topics in the most asinine way.  However, to distract the reader from the absurdity of the post, I sprinkle the entry with (1) random pop culture references, (2) sarcastic humor, and (3) sentiments of self-loathing.  Maintaining my blog is as simple as plugging in the variables of an algebraic equation.  Like the songs on a Beastie Boys album¹, every post is the same.  Creativity is overrated; I haven’t written anything original on this blog in over two years.²  I have no redeeming qualities.³

  Right now I am at Starbucks attempting to write something about how the original Beverly Hills, 90210 TV show foretold the current economic crisis, but I’m distracted by a couple sitting across from me.  I can normally stay focused when I write (it’s just a plug-and-chug formula, after all) but I can’t help but notice that they have been making out passionately for the past 10 minutes. I’m not sure if this is supposed to make me uncomfortable, but it kind of does.  They’re directly in front of me, so if I look up from my computer screen I will be staring straight at them.  Additionally, they are no less than 3 feet from me, so if I keep staring at my laptop I will still hear them smacking their lips.  Neither of these two scenarios is desirable for me, so, out of spite, I decide to make them feel equally uncomfortable.  I look up from my computer and intently stare at them.  Their lovefest is unaffected by my creepiness as they continue to give into their burning loins.  As I stare at her unsuccessful attempts to swallow his face, I notice that she’s a remarkably attractive woman and he looks like Napoleon Dynamite.  On the hotness scale from 1-10, she is easily a “Los Angeles 9” and he is no better than a “Wisconsin 6.”  At face value, this relationship is socially improbable and mathematically impossible, as LA9 ≠ W6.  However, I notice that he has a diamond-studded Rolex watch, a platinum chain around his neck, several rings on his fingers, fashionably torn jeans, and the key to a Mercedes Benz (his keys were on the table).  I suppose it would be unfair of me to conclude that these additional variables that I’m observing while ogling at them balance out the equation, so I’ll just equate everything to him having a great personalityⁿ (with n being a positive whole number).

  Everything in life is formulaic.

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