Nocturnal Emissions

Insomnia sucks for the most part, but what it doesn’t suck at is getting me to gaze into the deep, dark crevasses that make up what’s left of my soul. Some nights I think of fluff — like fuzzy kittens, soap scum and sweaters made out of love, merino wool and sunshine.

Then, there are the nights when I can’t get the frightening images of acid wash jeans, people who insist on wearing PJs out in public, post-WW1 German porn and the Dave Matthews Band out of my noggin.

Tonight is no exception and here’s what’s rattling around in what’s left of my once-semi-brilliant mind.

1) When the first-time writer of a hit movie tells an interviewer that he/she just simply sat down with a “How To Write A Screenplay In One Weekend” book, and wrote that semi-literate–but funny celluloid sensation–they’re lying to you.

Here’s what really happened: The studio wanted to work with this person because they’re popular and funny. So, these clueless execs buttered them up, then asked them for an idea and maybe a rough draft of a script. Upon first the reading, the must-hire D-girl who’s fucking the junior exec, quickly learned that this particular popular person is much better at doing late-night sketch comedy. Ahem–mum’s the word, see. So, the studio then hires a team of script doctors (at about $200k a pop) et voila–hit movie!

2) While I’m on the Hollywood trip, here’s another tidbit: When an actor/actress/singer thanks their assistant in their Oscar/Golden Globes/Emmy/Grammy acceptance speech, they’re really thanking their drug dealer. True story.

3) Bulimia never, ever goes away–it just manifests itself in other forms–like the urge to dye one’s hair purple, or start a blog, or build the original Roman Empire out of unused tampons.

4) Naming your children the correct name is vital to their future. Adorning them with monikers like Brittany, Tiff’ny, Zephyr, Madison, Schylur/Skylar, or Savannah, well, they’re bound to grow up to be total assholes, and will either yank their puds for money or spend a lot of time spinning nekkid around a steel pole at a dank truckstop bar on the interstate. I can’t believe that unimaginative parents in this country feel the need to sully the awesome reputations of two of my favorite cities by naming their sub-mental spawn “Madison/Madysun” or “Savannah” because both names are “unusual.” Get over yourselves because you’re only doing your kids a disservice by bestowing them with awful names. Stick with the classics.

5) If you insist on naming one of your kids Marquis, at least have the fucking sense to pronounce it correctly–it’s “Markee” not “Markwiss.”

6) The more I think about it, the more I believe that Stalin was just misunderstood.

7) Write Yiddish and cast British. Never fails. Ever.

8) Once I deem you to be a douchebag, there’s no way to recover. It’s just best to move on and realize that me calling you a douchebag is actually a gift–a kick in the ass of sorts–to get you to fix your douchebagness. Trust me on this–I’m a damn good judge of character.

9) OJ did it.

10) I’ve said this before, but there is no such thing as a social media/content management guru. If you introduce yourself to me as a social media/content management guru–and say it with a straight face–well, you’re about to be called a word that rhymes with schmoucheschmag. Gurus can only be found in ashrams in India, by the way.

11) My god–I love peonies.

12) You know, that rug really DID pull the room together.

13) I can really see a future with this gentleman. He’s all sorts of secksy in his thong, and not to mention his pathway to adventure, which has me a-quivering by the way.

Picture 3Is that a cat?

14) There’s nothing wrong with nom-nomming on chocolate cake with chocolate buttercream frosting for breakfast, lunch and dindin. But you must realize that stuffing your face with all that chocolate goodness will cause you to resemble a mutant hamhock after about a day of this diet. Never fear monkehs–that’s why god invented eating disorders.

15) Everyone should own this album.

ffym

For those of you who have difficulty reading the above image, it’s Ben Harper’s “Fight For Your Mind.” It’s haunting, sensual and beautifully produced.

One of my fave songs ever–

You’re welcome.

16) Elvis is king–Costello, not Presley. Puh-leeze–I’ve never cared for that drug-addled twat.

 

 

 

I’m just a whore, a social media whore

I dabble with Tumblr from time to time. I don’t know why I do this exactly, but I’ve been told that if i want to remain competitive in the job market, I have to whore myself out to all things social media. 

Personally, I find it all to be a huge pig fuck with very little return, which is why I only fiddle-fuck with Tumblr, Google+ and what-not when I’m not doing much except waiting to hear from my probation officer, or from my sugar daddy. 

So, if you’re bored and have run out of things to melt with your lighter, check out my Tumblr: 

http://mccrabass.tumblr.com/

I promise it’ll be somewhat amusing from time to time. 

 

Darwin Awards, Twitter-Style

My sympathy level has reached an all-time low.

Over Labor Day weekend in Ontario, California, five young men lost their lives in a car crash. Horrible. Sad. I am sorry for their family and friends.

However, my deepest sympathy is somewhat limited in this case. Turns out the driver, Ervin McKinness, 21, was drinking, Tweeting and driving. Even though it’s been proven that using any type of mobile device whilst driving can be deadly, many folks–mostly youngins–choose to ignore it. One would think that with all of the information out there about how dangerous it is to text/Tweet while driving that most folks wouldn’t partake in something so dangerous.

Not so fast. Enter #YOLO or “You Only Live Once” — a saying made famous by the performer Drake, which has since been turned into a popular Twitter hashtag used by Tweeters ranging from ordinary folks to Katie Couric. Apparently, young folks have taken this #yolo as a shout-out to do real dumb things, like drive drunk and Tweet about it.

It’s sad that the aspiring rapper/singer’s life & the lives of four others were cut short by his stupidity.

What irritates me about the Vibe.com article is this part: “Ervin McKinness, 21, died in the car crash, which police say occurred around 1:40AM on Labor Day (Sep. 3), but approximately twenty minutes before the deadly accident, the 21-year-old sent out a tweet that could have saved his life if someone had intervened.

Intervened? How exactly–by driving around, calling him as an attempt to talk some since into him? Hey, here’s a novel idea, how about not drinking and driving? Seriously–how fucking stupid, in this day and age, do you have to be to realize that alcohol consumption and driving do not mix? Is this article saying that this horrible accident was not the driver’s fault? Does the author of the article, Charley Rogulewski, even follow and understand Twitter? If he did, then he’d know that most Tweets are bullshit, and only capture the attention of the reader for about a nanosecond–unless it’s porn, of course. Is the po-po supposed to monitor Twitter like a hawk? Think about it–If the cops were monitoring Twitter for possible criminal and life-threatening Tweets, crime outside of the Twitterverse would be out of control.

This crappy crap pisses me off.

Or, is this an instance where social media failed too?

Cake baby

I just have to weigh in here. But first, I must preface this post with that fact I’ve written about such odd soon-to-be-parents & new parents behavior before.

This latest trend? I’m at a loss.

Well, not really.

From the NYT. God love ‘em.

(The text has been edited for space.)

A Boy or Girl? Cut the Cake

“THE house was filled with balloons and confetti, the chips and artichoke spinach dip were ready, and the guests, about 25 of them, were decked out in team colors, ready to cheer. Minutes before the party kicked off, they eagerly cast votes on the outcome.

But this festive gathering, held recently at the Miami home of Carolina and Carl Marrelli, was not a Super Bowl celebration. The decorations were all in very un-N.F.L. pinks and powder blues, and the sides involved were “Team Boy” and “Team Girl.”

“Team Boy” and “Team Girl”? Oh, this has got put-me-out-of-my-misery-with-a-pointed-stick-that’s-been-dipped-in-a-raging-festering-herpes-sore written all over it.

Joe and Ashley Brickner found out they are expecting a daughter.

“This was a gender-reveal party, during which expectant parents share the moment they discover their baby’s sex, unveiling results of the ultrasound test among loved ones (often replaying the moment later on Facebook or other social media). It’s the rare surprise party that people can give for themselves.

Until recently a little-known practice, the concept is quickly becoming a pre-parenting custom, a dress rehearsal of sorts — or sometimes a replacement — for the baby shower. In a culture where many expectant parents feel obligated to tweet their pregnancy announcement, live-post their ride to the hospital via Instagram, and Skype the baby’s first smile, it’s the latest example of one of parenthood’s formerly private moments becoming a matter of public consumption.

In the last year alone, the number of gender-reveal party discussion threads on BabyCenter — one of the most popular Web sites for new parents, with 11 million visitors a month — has rocketed to 282, from 28, a spokeswoman for the site said.”

With the meteoric rise in the popularity of social media, people now feel that everyone who inhabits this rock and has Twitter, Facebook, Fuckbook, Tumblr, Google+ et al accounts, needs to be privy to every single thought (including the most mundane), movement, reaction, dirty image, achievement, puppy & kitty image, vidyas of babies giggling/wretching, song choice et cetera, et cetera, at the very moment these events happen — no matter what. What’s even more disturbing is there is an audience for these events — a very large one, in fact. Some folks are friends with the poster, but if you tweet your personal life and you don’t have your settings set to private, millions of fellow Twittererersss will be privy to that twitpic of little Milo crowning through a hastily done episiotomy. Yummo. Why is this happening? Is it ego run amok?

Are expecting parents the new media whores?

“On YouTube, the first video of such an event dates from 2008. It shows the expecting parents simply opening a sealed envelope containing the ultrasound results before friends and family.”

YouTube shoulda seen the future and outlawed the future. Fuckers.

“A handful followed in 2009 and 2010. But in the last six months, more than 1,800 gender-reveal videos were uploaded onto the site.

Parents typically arrange for the ultrasound technician to withhold the gender finding from them. The technician places the information Oscars-style in an envelope, which the couple might then deliver to a baker, who whips up a pink or blue cake, covering the telltale color with frosting. The couple discover the gender when they cut the cake amid shrieking in-laws and fluttering confetti.

“It gave us more time to cry, laugh, scream and just be free to celebrate with all of our hearts, rather than to be in some dark room with a total stranger,” said Ms. Marrelli, 34, who live-streamed her results (boy) and the cheering throng in her home to dozens of other friends and family members around the country.

I find it so hard to believe that anyone outside of the immediate family (and even this is a stretch) gives a fiddler’s fart about the sex of the baby. Just tell them where to send the gift and maybe they’ll stop by for the first time at Junior’s 10th birthday. And the real reason the in-laws are shrieking? Because they know that they’ll be asked to babysit all the god-damn time and won’t be able to offer any parenting advice because new parents these days know EVERYTHING.

Again — fuckers.

“It was a way to get everyone involved, and you experience this huge payoff after all the building anticipation,” said Brett Grayson, 28, a high school social-studies teacher in Irving, Tex., who can be seen getting misty-eyed in the video of the celebration he posted on YouTube. “I’m normally not emotional, but when I saw the pink cake, it was like a flash of me teaching her to drive and marrying her off.”

Let me paint a different, more realistic picture of what your darling daughter will turn out to be. First,  the over-programming you and your wife will inevitably do in your wee daughter’s first few years of life will turn her into a bitter, resentful 10-year old. By the time she’s 12 she will have stolen three cars; spent time on the high school lacrosse team’s stank-ass mattress they keep in the equipment closet for such situations, and plotting the demise of the entire honors program. How do I know this? It’s science.

“Creative decorating tips for the parties have popped up on design blogs, and handmade knickknacks for gender-reveal parties are sold on Etsy shops (one seller offers pink and blue question-mark-shaped lollipops, 12 for $15).

Ashley (0f course) Brickner, a fashion marketing teacher and expectant mother in Virginia Beach, found out about the concept a few months ago, when she ran across ideas for festive décor on Pinterest.

So she and her husband, Joe, held their own party a few weeks ago. Since they each come from large families who live nearby, it just seemed natural, they said, to make this private moment public, particularly in an age when the family is likely to get updates on the baby’s development on Facebook.

You know, folks, you there isn’t a law that says you must tell every sordid detail about bebeh’s development on the Facebook. You can keep it to yourself and maybe do something a titch more productive like bullying your friends into having an over-the-top baby shower for you and 100 of your nearest and dearest. Just a thought.

“They’re going to be very much a big part of the baby’s life, so we thought it was just a cool way to incorporate them,” said Ms. Brickner, 28, whose cake was pink.”

Shit howdy, they just want the cake, not the expectations that come along with noshing on it.

“In rare cases, the gender-reveal party turns into a comic misfire, like the video of the Woodall party last year in Kentucky, at which it became clear the baker had given them the wrong cake: it was white inside. (“Epic fail!” a male voice booms in the background.)”  I bet he sued everyone in that bakery and put contracts out on the future children of the owners, the landlord’s family, the suppliers, the people who drive the supplies to the bakery, the people who breathe the air around and inside the bakery — you get the idea.

At increasingly popular parties, a baby’s gender is revealed via pink- or blue-colored cake.

Carl and Carolina Marrelli live-streamed their party.

Toni White

A pink shoe in the cake signified a girl is due.

“Donna Vela, who owns Little Angel Announcements, an online stationery store, said she began getting requests for gender-reveal party invitations about a year ago and now gets several orders a day.

“I think it goes with today’s Facebook generation that shares everything with everybody,” Ms. Vela said.

Indeed, Brooke Flatt, 24, sent out invitations on Facebook to the gender-reveal party she gave in February at Joint Base McGuire-Dix-Lakehurst in New Jersey, where she lives with her husband, Airman First Class Bryan Flatt, 26.

“It was an excuse to throw a party,” said Ms. Flatt, who streamed the event live on Ustream for relatives in Mississippi. “We had cocktail food and I gave out cards for people to guess the weight, hair color and eye color for me to put in a scrapbook.”

The cake, which turned out to have pink icing between the layers, was decorated on the outside with bumblebees and the message: “What will it bee?”

Buddy Valastro, the host of the “Cake Boss” television show on TLC and the owner of Carlo’s Bake Shop in Hoboken, N.J., says that he makes several gender-reveal cakes a month, which cost $100 to $1,000.

“Some people go crazy and want something totally elaborate,” he said, such as multitiered cakes with startlingly lifelike fondant babies on top. “I think it’s a cool way for people to find out what they’re having.”

But Greg Allen, 44, a filmmaker in New York who also writes a blog for new fathers called daddytypes.com, said he found the trend baffling.

“Creating drama around your baby’s gender seems so staged and fake,” said Mr. Allen, who found out the sexes of both his children the comparatively old-fashioned way: with his wife in a sonogram examination room. “The whole connection of cutting into the cake to find out, like it’s a stand-in for the uterus, is sort of sickening.”

Oh, I just fell in love with this man. But, now I want some uterus cake. What’s that? Oh right. Fucker.

Kimberly Wageman, 37, of Richland, Wash., avoided this association by having guests at her gender-reveal party bite into cupcakes, which had dollops of blue icing inside. Her baby boy, now 6 months, was her third child.

I’m sorry — she had a party for her third pregnancy?

“The first one, we found out the sex when we had the ultrasound, the second we waited until she was born and the third we had a gender reveal,” said Ms. Wageman, a stay-at-home mom. “I couldn’t say which was best because they were all such unique experiences.”

I hope that someday these folks will consider not over-sharing to be a ‘unique experience.’

Shitty news: The mid-week roundup

The past few days have been rough. First, a barbaric law in Florida has allegedly played a role in the death of yet another young black male. My heart aches for his family and friends who mourn Trayvon Martin, but this heartbreak doesn’t match the anger I have for the state of Florida for being the land of choads. Social media stepped up to the plate this time in a big, important way. If it hadn’t been for Facebook and Twitter, Mr. Martin’s death would’ve been another sad footnote in the history of violence aimed at young, black AMERICAN males. This shouldn’t be happening in this day and age. This country has made leaps and bounds with regards to other aspects of social justice, but we’re lacking when it comes to the African American community.

Yes, yes, yes…how would I know how it is seeing that I’m a well-educated  white woman from an upper-middle class family? First and foremost, I’m a human being and I view all human beings as equal. A relatively rare attitude as of late, since some of my white brothers have their knickers in a twist over the fact that we have a black POTUS, and believe that Mr. Obama is going to take away their ‘rights.’ Whatever the fuck that means.

What happened to Trayvon Martin affects all of us. With some it’s immediate and profound, with most of us it’s subtle. This type of senseless death chips away at the structure of American society little by little. I pray that justice will prevail.

Onward.

This guy needs to shuttie his pie hole. Folks who don’t listen to NPR or pay attention to when the media do an ‘Oops! Our bad!’ don’t know the whole Mike Daisey tale of whoa! In short, Mike Daisey is a guy who did a play/performance piece about the horrors of working in an Apple factory in China. Turns out, most of the yarn was fabricated but that didn’t come to light until after “This American Life” did a whole story on Daisey and his play. Note: TAL fact checks everything. EVERYTHING. Daisey lead them astray with his ‘facts’ and that’s where the trouble began. Then, TAL devoted yet another whole show to the fabrication. Got it. Should be the end of it, riiiight? Nope, now Daisey is blaming his wife when he should just shut it down, lick his wounds and do some serious soul searching because he doesn’t want to be known as the Stephen Glass of the performance art world.

Looks like my former governor will be going through some unfortunate changes whilst in the pokey for being all greedy n’ shit. That hair color is not his own–it’s manufactured then sent to drugstores between hither and yon where Mr. Barbers everywhere can buy it for their vain customers.

From the Chicago Sun-Times via the AP.

Blagojevich’s barber: Ex-gov’s hair is dyed,will turn gray in prison

“Rod Blagojevich’s barber says the former Illinois governor’s famously thick, dark hair is dyed and will turn gray within the first months of his prison term.

Peter Vodovoz, also known as “Mr. Barber,” has been Blagojevich’s barber for more than two decades. Vodovoz said Wednesday that the 55-year-old Blagojevich has dyed his hair for years.

Blagojevich reported to a Colorado federal prison last week to begin serving a 14-year sentence for corruption. A prison spokesman says hair dye is banned because inmates could use it to change their appearances in escape attempts.

Vodovoz says Blagojevich’s dark-brown dye will fade quickly, and he could be as gray as talk show host Jay Leno within three months.

When he was governor, Blagojevich was so obsessive about his hair he had a security official carry a brush.”

Hey gov, as the song goes — “A change would do you good.” It would do all of us good since I’m a bit weary of my homestate being the political laughing stock of this nation. Now please Rod, go away so us Illinoisans can get back to business as usual. Well, maybe not AS usual since that behavior tends to land our fearless leaders into buttloads of trouble with the Feds. Also, looking like Jay Leno ain’t necessarily a compliment.

Here’s another who should shuttie her yapper. What’s sad here is how the baby daddy wants nothing to do with his son. Shame on him. And shame on her for not wearing any make up. Knowing how this country is, she would’ve garnered a lot more sympathy had she tried to whore it up a bit during the initial interviews and investigations.

There’s something quite unappetizing about this. Gross. Art, schmart. I’ll say it again: Gross.

Next time, toss a salad in the way we’d all like to see. Orrrr….maybe not. You decide for yourself.

Finally … well, you’ll see.

Musings on random crap redux

I’m back.

I’ve got much to say.

The human race has been busy — and not in a good way.

First, this little tidbit from Good.is

Forced Friends: Want a Job? Give Up Your Facebook Password

Side note: A few months ago, I had two phone interviews where my age came up. During the first one, the M.E. of a publication in Florida flat out asked me how old I was. When I politely reminded him that question was illegal, his response before he hung up on me was, “What are you going to do about it? In this economy, I can ask whatever questions I want! It’s my word against yours!” At first I was outraged and contemplated telling the useless EEOC, but then realized that I’d never want to work for a company where the folks in charge felt the laws were troublesome guidelines rather than binding agreements.

The second place, located in Chicago, tried to be a scosch creative with trying to figure out my age. The youngin’ asked me what type of music I listened to in high school because the company “wanted to get a feel for their prospective employees’ tastes and whatnot.” I saw right through this little ruse, however, and sang the praises of Edith Piaf and Benny Goodman. When the desired answers weren’t flowing threw the black wires, my interviewer tried another angle: “What were your favorite television shows when you were growing up?” Answer: “We didn’t have a television.” The interview was over soon after, and I was bathed in relief.

FYI-I’m not THAT old. Sadly, ageism is alive and well, and there’s nothing anyone can do about it.

Onto the article.

“Concerns about the safety of Facebook profiles are valid, especially as the company grows and people share more information on the site. Facebook has had frightening breaches of user trust in the past, and some questions about where its loyalties lie—with consumers or with corporations—remain unanswered. Nobody can predict whether Facebook will end up taking advantage of the information provided by the millions of people who log into it every hour. But while Facebook itself waffles between creepy and benevolent, it turns out some people are using the site to get downright evil when it comes to online privacy.

An in-depth report from MSNBC reveals numerous documented instances of American colleges and employers demanding that students, employees, and applicants open up their Facebook profiles for review. Tecca.com reported last year on a police department in North Carolina that asked people applying for a clerical job, “Do you have any web page accounts such as Facebook, Myspace, etc.? If so, list your username and password.” The Maryland Department of Corrections also asked applicants to hand over their passwords, until an ACLU complaint killed that practice. Still, some applicants report being asked in interviews to log into their Facebook profiles and allow the interviewer to look over their shoulder while they click around their photos and wall posts.”

Glad that the ACLU put the kibosh on the whole handing-over-the-passwords bullshit.

“It doesn’t end with the job market. College students—athletes in particular—are also subject to this invasive line of inquiry. In the new player handbook for athletes at the University of North Carolina, a passage reads, “Each team must identify at least one coach or administrator who is responsible for having access to and regularly monitoring the content of team members’ social networking sites and postings. The athletics department also reserves the right to have other staff members monitor athletes’ posts.” Elsewhere, students have been told they have to friend their coaches, thus giving the coaches total access to their accounts.”

Could you imagine being the person who is in charge of lurking around some athlete’s Facebook page? It would either be boring or frustrating — by frustrating I mean I’d want to correct the horrible grammar and spelling I came across.

More …

“To be sure, there are ways to lock down your Facebook account, even from “friends,” but should anyone be forced to to resort to such lengths?”

That’s a good question, and that is why I’m private on Facebook. It’s tough to find me and once you do, you can’t access my account or any info without my permission. Then, once you’re a friend, I’m still tough to figure out.

“In an effort to catch law up with society, two Maryland state legislators are sponsoring a bill that would prevent schools and potential employers from seizing access to people’s social networking sites. In the meantime, it’s important to take note of at least one major factor driving these insane invasions of privacy: the terrible economy.

It’s simple: In a world in which options are plentiful, people don’t subject themselves to totalitarianism in order to secure employment. They go to a job interview, and when the interviewer starts demanding to rifle through their personal digital lives, they get up and leave, confident they can go somewhere else for work. The reason anyone is allowing potential employers to treat them like this is because a job is hard to come by these days, and so you do whatever you can to get employed—even if that means having your right to privacy trampled. Illegal immigrants have suffered with this “steady employment vs. avoiding abuse” dilemma for years. Now it’s come to the Maryland Department of Corrections. When economic stability erodes, so does the list of things people won’t do to get that stability back.”

Simply put, employers can do sneaky stuff to prospective employees because the economy is in the shitter, and since so many folks are looking for work, we are more than likely to put up with all of it. Like the article states, hopefully these questionable screening tactics will fall by the wayside once the economy improves. Who knows when that will happen though.

Onward.

Some things are just too gross to discuss. My stomach hurts just thinking about ingesting this.

These have got to be the ugliest fucking things I’ve ever laid my hazel eyes upon. Looks like Mr. West is spending too much time with a glue gun and believing his minions when they spew the words “genius” and “renaissance man” in the same breath as his name. Also, any stylist (even the trash peddlers Kim Kardashian hires) who thinks this is a good look, should consider spending some quality time at Trembling Acres and give E.S.T. a try, AND invest in a good mirror. But, for fun, look at them again. Then again. And again and eventually you’ll either want to gouge your eyes out with a spork, or will want to move to Death Valley, never to return.

And last but not least, I have a feeling that the throw-up I just produced in my mouth, tastes a lot like this stuff.

 

 

 

 

 

 

Favorite Things 2011 — The McCrabass Version

2011 has been a heartbreaking year for me and other folks too.

Horribly so.

However, there were a few highlights that made me stop in my tracks more than once. Some made me raise my eyebrows, laugh and some caused my eyes to roll so much my eyes ached for a day or so. It was a memorable year in many ways — it forced me to grow up some, cry a great deal, laugh a lot and swear alllll the damn time.

On a the public side, 2011 brought to the forefront a real messed up election process that is spotlighting some of the most ignorant and dangerous candidates ever to star in the presidential election theater. It’s going to get worse before it gets better folks, but it makes for great article and blog fodder — not to mention all of the great comedy this upcoming election year will produce. Personally, I can’t wait even though I am dreading the headaches I’ll get from banging my head on the wall in frustration each time Newt Gingrich et al says something asinine — which will be always. I’m gonna need a lot of Aleve in 2012.

2011 also showed the world what a motivated, angry populace can do. What happened in Egypt, Libya, Syria and Tunisia (granted, the Tunisian uprising began in December 2010) stoked the fires of people everywhere. People are fed up with being shat upon and 2011 was the year they just weren’t gonna take it anymore. The Occupy Movement that’s happening in this country and elsewhere is inspiring and sad. Sad because people shouldn’t have to hold protests for basic human rights like food, clothing, education, healthcare and shelter. The arrogance of those in charge is appalling — especially in the U.S.

This country is not about shitting on those less fortunate while celebrating your success. Especially since laws here helped those folks achieve all they have.

As George Costanza so eloquently said, “We’re living in a SOCIETY!” Who knew that the fictional short, stocky bald man’s words uttered in the mid-90s would be so prescient.

So, my favorite things. It’s an homage of sorts to Oprah (remember her?), but no one is getting any donated gifts from sponsors here. Hopefully, you’ll laugh a bit, nod your head in agreement and keep coming back for more McCrabass in 2012.

These favorite things are in no particular order.

1) The GOP Presidential candidates. These folks help to keep me engaged, they make me want to educate myself further and help to deepen my liberal beliefs.

There is so much material here that I don’t know where to begin, so I’ll just say this: Anyone who thinks any of these candidates could run this country need to have their head examined. ‘Nuff said.

I’m sure I’ll be repeating myself in a few days. You’ll see.

2) Louis C.K. Now, I know Louis has been around for a long time, but in 2011, he found his voice. His tee vee show “Louie” is great stuff — it’s funny, heart warming and original. He doesn’t steal material like the insufferable and extremely unfunny Dane Cook. Louis reminds me of the brilliant George Carlin, and I think he’s going to get better and better with age.

Take a gander … Both clips are from a couple of years ago, but you get the idea.

And here …

3) Bikram yoga. It’s safe to say that I wouldn’t have made it through 2011 without Bikram yoga. Say what you want about Bikram Choudhury and his brand of yoga, but it works for me and countless others. To me, it’s not the same routine in every class because I’m not the same person in every class.

Bikram-Choudhury

Bikram haters — rest your sphincters. This isn’t your time to comment about how Bikram yoga isn’t yoga or that your brand of yoga is “better,” or to debate me. This is the time to shuttie yer yap yap and appreciate and respect the fact that your friend is alive today because of this yoga. Even if I’m not your friend, zip it.

4) Moroccan Oil. Again, this product has been around for some time, but 2011 is the year that McCrabass discovered it. My god this stuff is fucking awesome and it has made my lovely locks even lovelier. It’s liquid crack for the hair. Try it — you’ll be hooked.

5) Never having heard a Justin Bieber song.  I consider myself truly blessed.

6) Thundersnow. I’ve written about this before, but here’s the video of Jim Cantore freaking out again. It’s worth watching over and over and over.

7) Madison, Wisconsin. I have never been prouder of the city that houses my alma mater. But, I am miffed at Wisconsinians for electing such a heartless douchebag in the first place. Y’all were sold a bill of goods and you shoulda done your homework. Nevertheless, the coolest capital in the country made me proud once again, and it’s the only city north of Chicago I’d ever consider living in.

My heart belongs to Madison.

8) “Game of Thrones” series on HBO. I’m not a huge fan of fantasy tee vee shows, books or movies but GOT grabbed me from frame one. Not only did have a stellar cast, but the story lines were actually interesting. Plus, from a film making standpoint, it was technically brilliant. Can’t wait for season two which airs in spring 2012.

Two words: Peter Dinklage.

Three words: Jason Momoa = DAMN.

9) Writing. Finally, something I’m decent at. Let’s hope I can make some money off of it in the coming years.

10) Social Media. Say what you want about social media, but it’s here to stay. I love it. Twitter is like writing your own personal headline in 140 characters or less. Social media kept up with the protests in the Middle East and informs followers as to what else is happening in the world. It’s a wonderful tool with so much potential that shouldn’t be shunned, but embraced by everyone — no matter what your age is.

The beauty of it is, you can make it what you want. You can be as open or as private as you want. However, if you’re all about privacy, don’t bitch on Facebook about how you want folks to remove your info from their newsfeeds because you feel like your privacy is being invaded.

Give me a break.

If you’re that concerned about privacy, get the fuck off of Facebook and buy good stationary,  a decent pen and start writing letters. Until you decide to do just that, shut the hell up about how you feel your privacy is being violated on Facebook because someone isn’t hiding your comments from their newsfeed. Leave Facebook to those who can handle it and who realize that there’s really no such thing as pure privacy anymore. Newsflash: There never was such a thing.

Also, no one gives a shit about your comments. Seriously. They’re too concerned with their own lives and with trying to guilt their Facebook friends into writing inane status updates “proving” that they hate cancer, pedophiles, pollution and Republicans.

Me? Well, I use social media mostly for fun. I find it to be a wonderful tool for story ideas, keeping in touch with family and both old and new friends, and for wasting time.

It’s the coffee klatch for the new world.

Finally …

11) President Barack Obama.

Coming soon: My Least Favorite Things of 2011.

A weekend of longing ends

‘Twas a stormy weekend, which made the air smell like ass after each downpour. I don’t get it — it’s summer, yet the air doesn’t smell all that fresh and clean like it’s supposed to, at least that’s what I gleaned from those commercials about summertime fun. Also, I find these monsoon-esque, daily storms unsettling as do many others I know. Ambien kept me from enjoying the one that rolled through here late-Friday/early Saturday. There’s nothing like sleeping better through chemistry.

The rest of the weekend consisted of reading, writing and watching the tee vee. I couldn’t watch the goings-on between our fearless leaders because it’s the biggest farce so far this decade. Get over it folks, we have a black president. Quit being doooooshes and solve this thing already. The one piece of political news that made me smile was this. Looks like the tea bagger fuckery is imploding. Good thing too, their racism veiled as progress is embarrassing and counterproductive. That’s all I’m going to say about politics. If someone wants to pay me to write about politics, I’ll do their bidding. Until then, meh. I’d rather bitch, gripe and reflect on other stuff I observe.

Like this for example: It’s deja vu all over again. Yes, those shoes that are the staple of the preppy look are gracing the feet of folks who weren’t even alive during the first go-around with this once desired fashion staple. I had many a-pair because I was quite the prepster. But, I never owned that insipid
Preppy Handbook that many of my friends studied back in the day in order to live a more preppy lifestyle. What killed me about their dedication was that they didn’t realize the book was a joke. I didn’t have the heart or the guts to tell them either.

When I first spied these shoes, I thought they were called “Vajayjay.” I told you I need glasses.

I dig these haunting images. And, I feel better knowing this too. Where in the hell IS Montenegro? Feh — don’t bother telling me I need to learn more about countries ‘over there’ or sending the me the link — I don’t particularly care. I’m sure Montenegro is a lovely place filled with marshmallows and vodka.

We need more propaganda art like in the good ol days. This church is so eerie, I wanna see it up close & personal. Keep scrolling for ideas about what to do with that ship you’ve been looking to ditch.

Looks like I’ll be mapping my way to the St. Lawrence Seaway tomorrow.