Thursday, March 3, 2011

A List of Topics I Have Rejected from Carrie McMenamin Over the Last Few Months

 Sorry, Carrie, this picture is so legit it warrants overuse.
  by Brendan Cavanagh

On those odd weeks where I struggle to come up with a suitable topic to present to the readers of Classic Brian, or when I have myriad topics to choose from, but stress- or college-induced writer's block impedes my ability to articulate exactly what I'm thinking, I have consulted my close friend, Ms. Carrie McMenamin, for aid.  Immediately she pummels me with three or four perfectly adequate ideas, but every time I have either failed to come up with a decently-sized post regarding such ideas, disregarded those I found unsuitable or loosely come up with an original idea found by means of subsequent contemplation of her suggestions.  However, this week I have had plenty of time to mull over her thoughts and I've come up with enough material to cover some of her more prominent recommendations.

I would like to begin by discussing the maddeningly prevalent issue of small talk.  To paraphrase Carrie's father, "Small talk is like currency; the more there is, the less valuable it becomes."  In most situations, making blithe conversation without any intention of becoming embroiled in a serious discussion is perfectly acceptable.  When you walk down a street downtown and pass a stranger, it is polite to utter a mere "Hello" or "How 'bout this rain?"  Likewise, engaging in casual conversation with a colleague in between assigned tasks or shifts at work is quite common.  However, in an educational environment in which you have some sort of connection with students you see nearly every day in the hallways, in class or on the campus, small talk is all-too-often used, and used inappropriately at that.  Personally, I don't feel if I see a friend more than two or three times a day that I should have to ask, "How are ya?" every time we cross paths, or feel obliged to engage in the "stop-and-chat-" a pointless, minutes-long affair of banal and uninteresting dialogue.  Most people feel that when they are in close proximity to a casual acquaintance or class mate, they are forced to ask, "What's uuuuuup?" with no concern for what's really uuuuuup with that person.  If they want to have a short discussion about something that involves the both of us, be it in or out of class, it's cool if they stop me and ask for my input.  But too often, there's this mutually awkward, unconscious impression that the two of us need to outrageously acknowledge each other's presence.  A simple nod or wave, high five or fist pound is appropriate.  Here's the irony: I, too, am guilty of making inane small talk with people I know even the slightest because I am awkward and/or forget my principles when thrust into such a situation.

Wednesday, March 2, 2011

Odd Future will fuck you

They will. They really will. No offense. These kids are NOT alright. They are pretty damn twisted, really.

A friend of mine introduced me to Tyler the Creator a few weeks back. 

Tyler and his crew Odd Future, who fancy the abbreviation OFWGKTA (Odd Future Wolf Gang Kill Them All – I know, right?),  have proceeded to violently explode in popularity the last three weeks. Not saying I was the good luck charm or anything, but the group caught my eye the moment before they exploded, which is pretty cool. If you watch that video, you're in for a treat. 

Tyler, or Wolf Haley (hence the term Wolf Gang) is a madman. He seems like a mastermind but at the same time there's undeniable proof that he's really dumb. Not in like a Kanye West way where he says the wrong thing at the wrong time, but in like a he doesn't know better way where he says the wrong thing all the time. 

His Twitter name is @fucktyler. He capitalizes each word in his tweets for some reason (save for a missed one here or there) and tweets all the time. He uses the word fuck as if it's giving him an endorsement. He has been tweeting all week about how fucking cool his life is, now that he's getting popular. He has been on MTV and has gotten approving tweets from Diddy and Kanye West, and has been vehemently enthralled about every second of it. He's like a kid. And he is a kid, at just 19 years old.

His crew consists of himself, 16 year old Earl Sweatshirt, Hodgy Beats, Left Brain, Syd Tha Kyd (a female!),  Frank Ocean, Domo Genesis, The Super 3, Jasper, Taco, and Mike G. I've never heard of half those guys. Whatever. They sound pretty cool.

Tuesday, March 1, 2011

I know how to change a tire- Mada

I have a midterm tomorrow for a class that I never attend. College is stupid. Don't take World Music 133.

Monday, February 28, 2011

Nick - Nature Is Scary

This is a video of a cricket committing suicide because a parasitic worm in its body told it to. This video is disgusting. This video is not for the faint of heart.

For all of nature's beauty and stuff, it is a scary place. Imagine that you're a cricket; you don't know why this worm larger than yourself is living inside of your body. You don't know how it got there. You just know that something hurts and that you don't feel right.

Even scarier is that this worm somehow forces the cricket to jump into water and drown itself. That is scary shit. It takes advantage of the cricket's natural instincts and inhibitions, and perverts them to its own devices. It's like having an itch that you need to scratch, until you die.

And it gets scarier than that. Next is a video of a caterpillar.

Spoiler: He gets eaten from the inside out, and his brain gets taken over to make him protect the parasites.

Sunday, February 27, 2011

Robert - Home

I watched my cousin Toby change a tire on his car and I remembered that I am not a man. I don't think I'd ever seen a star wrench before, and the extent of my knowledge of brake pads comes mostly from Tommy Boy.

"Here, take this and check the tire pressure on that wheel over there," my uncle Marty said as he handed me the nozzle of an air compressor.

"Okay LOL," I replied with the grandest of false confidences, and I walked the plank over to the right front tire. What the hell does this thing do? This looks unscrewable. *Unscrews.* I bet I can jam this in here. *Giggles.* Uh... Shit. Okay, this looks like it's working. Actually, I have no idea if this is working. Keep looking diligent. No, don't look up, he'll see the green fear in your eyes. What do I do? Maybe I can stay here forever and have Copper bring me dead rabbits every day to eat. I don't think it would be that bad. I don't think rabbit meat is that tough. It certainly beats looking foolish at car stuff. Oh sweet God thank you, Marty's leaving the garage to get something. "Toby..."

This past Friday I cashed in my extra meal points for this week's cereal at the local campus market. My shopping rendezvous complete, I carried home a plastic shopping bag full of light-to-semi-heavy items. My friend Garrett remembered a time recently when I ran into him, arms full of shopping bags, breaking both bags wide open.

"I bet you won't hit me with that bag," he said with a distinctly Conor-esque inflection.