MY FORGETTABLES

I guess since no one is going to ask, I'll just go ahead and tell you all

my

resolutions for 2010. First is to make the

the Vice twitter

a more palatable stream of garbage. Number two is to spend more time at the office churning out words instead of watching some bullshit on youtube then turning to Amy at the next desk and going "Hey Amy. Amy. Amy. Aaaaaaamy. Amy. Yo Ames. Hey. Hey. Hey. Aaaaaamy," then throwing a pen at Amy, then getting into an argument about whether or not it's OK to throw pens at people, then going, "Have you seen this shit with the lemur?" Not that webcrap and Amy-baiting takes up an inordinate amount of my day-to-day, but it

is

there, and I feel like without it in the way, it's possible I would have actually gotten to a number of stories/blog posts I either forgot to write or got bogged down with other crap before I finished. Here's a rundown of the ones I remember.

-Something about how this guy is the store badass at the local Verizon dealer.

-Something about how Karl Rove's recent divorce was foretold in that episode of

That's My Bush

. Also, how that show is still the funniest thing Parker and Stone have ever done and potentially the best TV show of the 00s.

-Something about how Alaska shouldn't be a state. This started when we went up to ANWR to hang out with this guy

Heimo Korth

for a couple weeks. That part of the trip was great. Heimo showed us how to trap rabbits and beaver and how to skin bears and fed us a bunch of different moose parts and taught us eskimo jokes and told us harrowing personal stories that sound like Jack London novellas. All this will be up on VBS in the next month, by the by. Then we left ANWR and realized the entire rest of the state was filled with frat boys who work on the oil rigs and the girls who married them the second they turned 18. Anchorage is the biggest city there and it's more or less Athens, GA, on game day. Then you've got Fairbanks which feels like a town that's been recovering from a hurricane for 30 years, basically a polar

Gummo

, and then you've got the wilderness. We skipped the panhandle, but seriously, Alaska? So that was kind of the main reason why I don't think it should be a state, because it's full of assholes. But at the same time, I think it would be a lot cooler if it was called a "territory" or something more adventurous like "arctic colony," and then I was going to get into the actual benefits of renouncing statehood with one of those Alaskan secessionist party guys, but it just didn't pan out. Actually, scratch this one. I may get around to it at some point. Give me a little bit.

-How good this 7-inch by R. Stevie Moore is. Wait, how about just how good that man is. Whenever he plays it's either the best "chill" show you've seen in years or it's the kind of show where nobody is playing at the same time and at some point someone's mic stand falls over and makes a really loud hum. AND he looks like one of those awful Australian Santas who wear shorts. But the record, oh man. Of the four songs it contains, one is a homoerotic slow jam, two sound like early XTC outtakes, and one is called "The Advertising Agency of Fucking."

-Oh shit, I just remembered this one. The Brooklyn Museum did this free screening of

Purple Rain

a couple months ago and all these Park Slope parents brought their little stroller kids in. Are you out of your fucking minds?! You brought a five-year-old to see the most horny man in America? You brought an eight-year-old and his three-year-old sister to watch Apollonia show Prince her tits before jumping in Lake Minnetonka and then watch Prince palm her crotch from behind? By the way, when this went down (the crotch part) the noise that welled up from the audience was identical to that "rabblerabblerabble" sound that mobs make in old movies. The outrage was knife-cutable. It took me a little bit, but I finally figured out the reason why. People have forgotten that Prince is sexy. They remember that he's

supposed

to be sexy, but they forgot that he actually is and what that actually means. It's like when your aunt or someone makes a joke about how Keith Richards is a junkie (she might say "druggie"). She's not thinking about Keith Richards buying a bundle of heroin, then breaking open a baggie and cooking up the powder, then sucking it all up in a syringe, then putting that syringe into his skin and pushing down on the plunger, then barfing in the toilet and then lapsing in and out of consciousness for a few hours. In her mind, when she says "junkie," there's a little bobble-headed Keith who throws a bunch of pills in his mouth and then stars or some shit starts flying around his head. Same deal with Prince re: Sexiness. Whenever the majority of people think the sentence "Prince is Sexy," a little Muppet Babies version of the Artist appears in their head and plays the riff from "Kiss." At the MOST he's wearing those assless pants, though again, only as a tiny-assed cartoon. We need to wake ourselves up and remember that Prince is a powerfully sensuous and sexual being. He's so overwhelmingly charged with deep, primeval horniness he doesn't even seem like a human so much as a mystical seahorse creature that was grown out of a petri dish of semen. He's like a sex elemental.

There was also a tie-in I had in mind to that song "International Lover" where's he's the pilot talking you through your orgasm over the intercom, but I forget how it fit in. You should go re-peep those lyrics if it's been a while though. Eye-boggling.

-Something about how maybe this lady should start focusing on quality instead of quantity.

-Something about how it's stupid when people refer to things like the final episode of M*A*S*H as a "historical moment." Actually I think this one might have been from 2008, but all the same. How the hell is the last episode of M*A*S*H (btw, I'm not italicizing it because I've already gone through the trouble of preserving that dumb formatting they used for the title. They don't get both) in any way "historical"? Because a bunch of people watched it? Oh, more than ever before? Wow, does that mean the completion of the world's biggest eclair gets to be wedged onto the timeline between the inauguration of Obama and the defeat of the Tamil Tigers too? From now on the rule is, it's only history if somebody died from it or killed someone because of it.

-Something about this one day when we got a box full of beef jerky from somewhere and everybody in the office was chowing down on beef jerky like it was a beef jerky commercial or something.

-The day we defeated the toilet. Anyways, those are all the lost stories I can remember right now. Sorry I never got them done, but hey, at least we pissed off some Stevie Ray Vaughan fans, right?

Good times. All right, gotta go shoot some skeet and see some puppets before the decade ends. Happy New Year, everyone! BABY BALLS