Finals are upon me
Dec 12, 2003
… and they are literally crushing me. I haven’t had any time to do something unrelated to work or school for weeks. In fact, the only time spent not working or doing homework or sleeping is eating.
Although my site remains rather sparse to behold, at least it is functional at the moment. Additional features can wait—design is the next priority. I’m fairly confident that I can either design around this layout, or coax my layout to fit my new design, assuming that I come up with something salient.
On a stranger note, I was able to sit down this evening (despite many, many things to do) and have a bite of Neapolitan pizza (from Punch). I inevitably watched my television—which I ironically slaved to pay for, and now have no time to watch—and saw the most disturbing show on ABC.
This show reminds me why I don’t watch TV. When did entertainment become a ghetto of commercials, commercial-like shows, and Fear Factor? Anyway, the show was ‘Crime Scene’ or something to that effect, and the episode concentrated on a young man obsessed with the Icelandic singer, Björk. This wasn’t your garden-variety obsession; no, this was something darker. The show featured numerous clips of this man videotaping a kind of journal. The tapes were disturbing on some deep level to me. They showed a younger man, quite overweight, sitting shirtless in his one-room apartment talking to himself about his grandiose obsession with Björk.
He studies serial killers and stalkers, rages about Björk-related news, and even constructs a homemade bomb on videotape. He mailed it to Björk, and then shaved his head, painted himself green and red with grease paint, and blew his brains out with a .357 Magnum. The television program showed all but that last part.
This is all, of course, old news—the package was intercepted. The gruesome reality of his mere existence troubled me the same way the late night shows on MSNBC can get to you. One example that springs to mind was a show following a coroner around for an evening. She encounters a lonely man, dead for several days, laying on a bed, brains blown out with a shotgun. The camera zooms in on the creepily elongated fingernails. The eerie part is the myth about fingernails growing after death is just that—a myth—but the skin actually tightens, making the fingernails appear unnaturally long.
A final macabre example was an episode of Insomniac my brother and I caught at his place. Dave Atell find a guy who runs his own death clean-up service, specializing in sanitizing crime scenes. I can safely leave the rest to the imagination.
So, why all this ultra-depressing and disturbing talk? Well, it is winter, it is very cold, and I am very tired. Seeing a nude psychopathic stalker on television was enough to trigger this rant. Oh, not to mention some religious crazies, the Van Something ministry over in Michigan. Their show was hilarious—a long, happy-spiritied diatribe on how the European Union was reforming the Roman Empire as told in the Bible. While this may sound like a bad thing, these zealots were very excited, as they fervently believe that the domination of the world by a self-proclaimed human deity would hasten the coming of Christ. Drivel. It all made much more sense when the “Prophecy Bible” was offered up for sale. A bargain at $69.99 or some such price. No tax dollars on that one, either—the benefits of being a tax-exempt religious organization.
I suppose I should post some links, but I’m simply to tired to even use Google. Good-night.