Wednesday, June 29, 2011

http://www.dailymail.co.uk/news/article-2009511/To-Catch-Predators-Chris-Hansen-caught-cheating-wife.html?ito=feeds-newsxml

so chris hansen did it wrong. i wonder if the irony is lost on him as he begins apologizing to everyone in his life. i'm sure it isn't. he's probably swallowed some beers with a friend and laughed about it.

that's necessary sometimes.

i woke up from a nap that i hadn't intended on taking and saw this article. even though the concept of stars falling generally delights me, proving the morose truths of the media's pyramid scheme and the need to build others into something bigger than oneself, chris hansen getting his ill desserts leaves me with a bitter tongue. like too much ginger at once. yuck. clearly this was meant to happen, say, inevitable. And it bothers me that i don't love it as much as i love every other perfectly happenstancial celebrity downfall.

because watching pedophiles get busted is a fantastic thrill. they're dehumanizable, and clearly that's the draw of the dateline specials. but to juxtapose that with the fucked up police tactics employed really displays the lengths and depths of america's reliance on brute and arbitrary authority. the horrible balance is what makes the show a spectacle. it's what pulls me in. like the ride at the carnival where you spin against a wall and the floor drops out. its crazy fun, but you kind of feel sick. the sensations combined are something new and bizarre.

so maybe chris hansen's downfall was deserved. i'm not sure.

Monday, June 27, 2011

to begin again

An impulse to restart an amateur internet writing career really is tough to reconcile when you have little to write about. It's like snapping on a speedo and some goggles in the middle of a drought parched prairie. Not only is the endeavor rendered fruitless, but you get scratched up by the dry grass and chiggers. I feel like a bunch of chiggers are biting my shavedtoaerodynamified ankles right now.
And really, all I can think about regarding what I write is that I know I cannot write poetry. So, a poem:

a blog loaded like a cannon
aimed at the infinite emptiness
of the internet
is really a great way to imitate
the dredges of living
and sitting on my couch
watching to catch a predator.
those pedophiles sure are fucked huh?