I very rarely remember my dreams. In fact, I don't really think I dream very much at all. But when I do--as I assume I must since I haven't gone insane--I don't remember them. They disappear from my mind the second I wake up, or very shortly thereafter.

I also very rarely think about my father. He died when I was three, and I have no memories about him at all. I only know what he looks like from pictures. People that did know him tell me that he was a pretty awesome guy, but for whatever reason, I've never really missed him or a father figure generally. My mom was awesome, and I never felt like I was missing out on anything. Although I have to admit that it took me a very long time to teach myself how to shave, so if fathers generally teach their sons, I guess I missed out on that. I'm also very bad at sports, but I don't think that having my dad around would have changed that. It seems like all that would have happened is that I'd still suck at sports and he pissed and disappointed.

Anyway, given that I rarely dream and rarely think about my father, I was sort of shocked this morning when I realized that I had had a very vivid dream about my father. And I was extremely shocked when I remembered the content of the dream.

I was in a very dark place--in fact, I couldn't see my dad, but I knew it was him. I don't think I was as old as I am now; I think I was about twelve, maybe. And I was really, really scared. My dad was very angry at me because, even though I was only twelve, I was who I am. And he was really disappointed and saying really mean things. He wasn't putting me down for any of the things I deserve to be put down for, either--he was insulting the various things about myself that I actually like. As the dream went on, I started standing up for myself a little and then more and more. And my dad got even more angry.

Then he pulled out a gun and threatened to kill me.

I nearly shat myself, but then I started standing up to him again because I knew that, even if he was angry and disappointed, I was still his son and he wouldn't kill me. And he didn't. At least not before the dream ended.

I've never subscribed to the notion that dreams mean anything. I analyze myself enough to know exactly how I feel about my dad--there's no work for my subconscious mind to do. But the thing still haunted me all day. It was really fucking strange.

Posted by Ismael Tapia II at 11:18 PM | Permalink | Comments (1)| Filed under Existential Nonsense

Holy shit. So, two medical helicopters crashed into each other as they were arriving at Flagstaff Medical Center in Flagstaff, Arizona. Six people died in the collision, and at least one other person was seriously injured.

As some of you know, I went to college in Flagstaff. But what makes this even closer to home for me is that my house was literally about two blocks from the hospital where these helicopters were heading. I remember driving home many times and seeing the helicopters flying onto the landing pad on top of the building. I actually almost crashed a few times because I was so fascinated by the things.

Anyway, it's just sort of strange because, when I read the headline, my mind immediately flashed to that specific hospital and that specific area. And then that's where it happened.

The article says that the crash happened in a wooded area about half a mile from the hospital. I wonder if I would have been able to hear the collision if I was still living in that house.

Anyway, this doesn't have anything to do with anything. It's just a sad thing that happened near somewhere I used to live.

Also, FMC doesn't have flight-traffic controllers? The pilots are just supposed to watch out for other helicopters themselves? This seems like a fucking failure, and I'm sure there are going to be lawsuits like a motherfucker after this incident.

Posted by Ismael Tapia II at 10:59 PM | Permalink | Comments (0)| Filed under Existential Nonsense , Goddamnit

This is an old story now, but the U.S. Supreme Court decided that child rapists cannot be subjected to the death penalty. I view this as an extremely good thing, not because I support child rape (I don't) but because after considering the issue for a long time, I am fundamentally opposed to the death penalty. Let me give you some reasons why.

The empirical stuff.
I've heard that it costs more to execute a criminal than it does to house him for life. I've also heard about various studies that prove that the death penalty has no deterrent effect. I have no idea how true those two things are, and how the first one can be true frankly baffles me. Still, I know--from my personal experience with criminal defendants--that very few people consider the possible penalties when they're deciding whether or not to commit some crime. No one thinks they're going to get caught, and I have yet to meet someone who I believe thought to themselves "Well, ok, the maximum here is three and a half years, but I probably won't get caught, so it's totally worth the risk." In short, criminals don't calculate pot odds. And, of course, it takes a pretty depraved mind to decide that they're going to kill someone, so I just don't buy that someone capable of that sort of thought would decide to hold off because of the possibility of getting caught and punished.

The flawed legal system.
I firmly believe that our legal system is pretty good, relatively speaking. Defendants are afforded an almost ridiculous amount of rights and, in my limited experience, those rights are almost always respected. And when they aren't, there are people like me to make sure that the defendant nonetheless receives justice. Having said all of that, however, our legal system is deeply flawed. Many guilty people go free and at least some innocent men are convicted. While I have no concrete statistic, I know with absolute certainty that our government, working with nothing but the best intentions and having afforded a defendant every conceivable right to overturn his conviction, has executed innocent men. This disturbs me deeply. It may be the case that with improved investigative techniques and expanded appeal rights, the error rate in death-penalty cases might be greatly diminished. But even an error rate of .00001 percent means that, at some point, our government is going to kill someone that hasn't committed the crime they're accused of. I wouldn't want to be that person. I wouldn't pay that price just so that others could have peace of mind--and we can't ask our society to bear that burden, either.

"Do not be too eager to deal out death in judgment."
Our entire system is based on the premise that some people have the right to sit in judgment of others. Judges and juries judge defendants every day. That all sits just fine with me. But what doesn't sit fine with me is the idea that some people in our society are fit to decide whether other people deserve to live or die. Death is irrevocable. It is the utter annihilation of another human being. And I just don't think that our legal system--which is comprised of many flawed, imperfect individuals--is competent to decide who deserves that punishment.

In his recent post, tRJ reiterates that there is a clear difference between murder and execution. He's clearly correct, and I don't subscribe to the notion that someone who orders an execution is just as bad as the murderer himself. I simply believe that no one is qualified to make that order.

The worth of life.
And now we come to my major objection, which is a simple one. When I sit down and think about it, I cannot escape the notion that even the most depraved murderer has a right to exactly one thing: his life. When someone has proven themselves unworthy to participate in our society, we are justified in punishing them by removing their freedom, both to punish them and to protect ourselves. But I just do not believe that any person's actions can negate the fundamental worth of every human life.

It's not that I find the opposite position--that murder is such a deprived act as to constitute a forfeiture of one's own life--unreasonable or unappealing. And it's not that I'm concerned about where to draw the line--first murder, then child rape, then what? No, my objection is based solely on the fact that I believe that the right to life is inalienable--we cannot take it from someone and they cannot forfeit it.

So that's what I think.

Posted by Ismael Tapia II at 12:29 AM | Permalink | Comments (18)| Filed under Existential Nonsense , Legal Rants , Philosophical Rants , Rants on the News

Ok, so the blog was down for a few days because my domain expired and the fuckers at Modwest didn't bother to give me any sort of notice and then I was too busy and lazy to deal with it. But it's back now, so there you go.

I will resume regular posting shortly.

Posted by Ismael Tapia II at 10:26 AM | Permalink | Comments (0)| Filed under Existential Nonsense , General Remarks

Twenty-two-year olds.
My contempt for people my own age has almost no bounds, but my contempt for twenty-two-year olds is fucking brighter than a thousand fiery suns.

It was Co-SME's birthday, so I briefly went to The Plaza. And what I saw there made me furious. What the fuck is wrong with these people? Skinny jeans on fucking everyone. And the girls that weren't wearing skinny jeans were wearing fucking trash bags and tights. What the motherfuck is going on with these people? But even that's not the worst of it. There was one guy there who was just a fucking unbelievable walking cliche, and the degree to which he didn't fucking realize it was pathetic. He was wearing black skinny jeans, and two--two!--studded belts, one of which had a fucking skull on it. A fucking skull. Then he was wearing a black Orioles t-shirt with a white undershirt. And it just got worse as you went up. His hair was a perfectly coifed emover. It was fucking too hideous for words. But that's not the best part. Here's the best part. He had a pack of cigarettes rolled up in his t-shirt sleeve. Like he was fucking Snake or something. I actually went up to him and asked him if he was actually carrying a pack of cigarettes rolled up in his t-shirt sleeve, and he was all incredulous, like that's something that's perfectly cool to do even for people that aren't The Fonz or some shit.

And there was a girl wearing a fucking fanny pack. And described it as "camp." I don't even know that means, and I almost punched her.

Yahoo.com
One of the headlines on Yahoo.com today read "Hats by top designers steel show at English racing event." I did a double take. Then decided that it must be some sort of pun--surely, these hats were made of metal or something, right? So I clicked on the headline. Nope--just a story about how the hats stole the show. Because the present-tense form of "stole" is "steel" according to the assjackets* at Yahoo.

Myself
Walking around downtown Madison today, I saw a very sad thing. An elderly and very overweight woman was apparently trying to cross the street on her little scooter thing when the scooter tipped over and her scooter fell over. And she fell onto the street in front of a car. Some people were trying to help her and make sure cars didn't hit her and stuff.

Well, you know how I always talk about how awesome I think Superman is and about how much I want to be a good person? My first instinct wasn't to go help the woman, but to avoid the whole situation and to laugh. Eventually, I did go help the woman and me and another guy lifted her back into her scooter and made sure she crossed the street. But I felt fucking terrible about that first fleeting instinct. I should be fucking better than that. It's one thing to laugh at the concept of something like that happening, but the fact that I actually found humor in this poor woman's pain and humiliation disgusts me.

So there you go.

Posted by Ismael Tapia II at 12:11 AM | Permalink | Comments (4)| Filed under Existential Nonsense , Life Sucks Sometimes , Rants About Things That Make Me Irrationally Angry

Someone once made some remark about the level of honesty I display here. It's what the whole thing is about, right? Being honest? I think so.

But I haven't been honest lately. It's not that I've been dishonest, either, really. It's just that I haven't come on here and vented about whatever's been going on. Part of it is that, due to events I will touch on in this post, I've been incredibly bored and restless lately. In short, I've been depressed. But I haven't really been talking to anyone around me about what's been on my mind, either. I guess I don't want to be this whiny piece of shit. And I feel stupid about the whole thing, too.

Anyway, I want to talk about what's been on my mind. But, blogging being what it is, I can't be too direct about it. So I've tried to think of an analogy. But nothing's coming to mind, really. So I'll just circle around my point and hope that it comes across in some way.

There are so, so many reasons not to like me. I'm an extremely arrogant man, but even I recognize that I have some pretty serious flaws: I'm overweight, I'm obnoxious, I'm loud, I'm offensive, my face isn't symmetrical, I'm extremely arrogant. I mean, I think that if you were to sit down and weight the pros and cons, you'd find that I'm worth your time, but that doesn't mean that it wouldn't be close sometimes. And I can understand why people might not be willing to even give me that much consideration. I'm aware of all these things and I'm cool with it; this is who I am, and you can all go fuck yourselves if you don't like it.

I think I've mentioned before that the very concept of who I am has caused various people--not just women--to decide that they don't want anything to do with me. Again, this is something I'm cool with, and chances are I wouldn't like those people at all, anyway. In some other universe--a universe in which I am less of an asshole, perhaps--I have ten times the friends and women are all over me. But I don't really want to be less of an asshole, and I don't see why I should be. I can rein it in when I have to. My colleagues, for example, don't think I'm an unmitigated and uncouth ass. At least I don't think they do.

But the point is that I know my failings and I know that they're likely to put off some large proportion of the population. The percentage of people in the world that I might potentially be friends with or date is smaller than for most people simply because I am me. I'm aware of that and I accept it. But here's what fucks with my mind: let's say someone puts up with all my flaws or--unbelievably--enjoys them. It's been known to happen. Anyway, let's say someone genuinely, actually, demonstrably likes me. That doesn't happen very often. It just doesn't. So I get excited when it does. And let's say that things seem like they might be really, really cool. And then let's say that, through no real fault of either party, the whole thing explodes. That's why I've been sad--because things exploded and it wasn't even my fault.

If things are going to explode, I want them to be my fault. If things are going to go wrong, I want it to be because I did something wrong. I can deal with that. I can blame myself and learn my lesson and get on with things. What I cannot deal with is the Universe stepping in and deciding that I don't deserve what I want. Because fuck that and fuck whatever the fuck else, I just want there to be some fucking reason for things other than that this is how things worked out here and now but given identical objects and slightly different initial conditions, things would be peachy.

Fuck that.

And that's what's been on my mind.

Posted by Ismael Tapia II at 11:42 PM | Permalink | Comments (5)| Filed under Existential Nonsense , Life Sucks Sometimes

Certain counties in California kept their offices open late tonight for the express purpose of granting marriage licenses to same-sex couples. While I'm happy that all couples in the nation's most populous state finally get to enjoy the benefits of marriage--whether they be emotional, financial, or whatever--I'm still more pissed by the fact that it's 2008 and only two states in our Nation recognize the right of two people that love each other but happen to have the same reproductive organs to express that love in what has become a very important way.

I think that I am a fairly reasonable human being. I have my beliefs, and I'm extremely stubborn about them, but I am always willing to listen to opposing views. Well, maybe "always" is a stretch, but I try very hard to see both sides of an argument. I learned a long time ago that the right answer is very often somewhere between two opposing positions, and, at least when I'm reflective, I try to bring that knowledge to whatever discussion happens to be going on. Often, this attitude leads me to take a very middle-of-the-road position on issues, and I've also grown increasingly skeptical of anyone who buys into one party or ideology hook, line, and sinker. I've voted for a Democrat in every presidential election I've had the opportunity to vote in, but I've never voted in an election where I didn't have reasons for voting for one candidate over another--I refuse to vote for someone simply because there is a little "D" next to their name. My point is that, although I've certainly won a fair share of argument by simply being louder than my opponent, I try to be critical of all positions and approach issues with an open mind. On some issues--like abortion--I've never been able to make up my mind because I find compelling arguments and glaring flaws on both sides of the debate.

Sometimes, though, I bring this "see both sides" attitude to an issue and am baffled by the seemingly obvious incorrectness of some position or another. Obviously, I see no possible rational basis for racism or sexism. I find it difficult to believe that someone could support torturing uncharged, unconvicted detainees at Guantanamo Bay. That just doesn't make any sense to me. But the thing that I've been, by far, most baffled by in the past few years is the ardent and unwaivering homophobia many of my countrymen have displayed. And it is homophobia, regardless of how it's dressed up. In the past, we were told that God clearly intended for the races to remain separate--that's why he put each of them on a different continent, after all. These ridiculous rationalizations for antimiscegenation laws were clearly racist. I see no essential difference between those explanations and the ones that are constantly offered in support of amendments banning gay marriage.

Perhaps I'm wrong, but it seems to me that the vast majority of opponents to gay marriage are opposed to it for some religious reason. But here, again, I find a position that I find incomprehensible. If you believe that gay marriage is wrong, fine, go ahead. And if you don't want to perform gay marriages in your church, that, too, is your right, as far as I'm concerned. Hell, I'd be ok with private organizations like churches and whatever else excluding gay people from membership. And if you want to tell gay people that they're going to hell, fine. But I don't understand how these people justify the leap from their personal feelings or beliefs to public policy. I've never understood--and probably never will understand--how people can insist that people who don't share their beliefs nonetheless act as if they do.

I could go on and on about this topic, but I won't. I'll merely say that I don't understand how someone could be opposed to two people that love each other having that love and commitment recognized by the State--assuming, of course, that we agree that it's any of the State's business who loves who.

Someone once said that as California goes, so goes the Nation. For the most part, I hope that's not true because, as I've said, I don't really care for California. But in this instance, I hope that saying holds completely true.

Posted by Ismael Tapia II at 11:32 PM | Permalink | Comments (1)| Filed under Existential Nonsense , Legal Rants , Philosophical Rants , Rants on the News

I had a conversation with a friend today in which we discussed how there was way too much stuff in our lives. I may or may not move when my lease ends in September. One of the biggest thing weighing against moving is that I have so much stuff. None of it is really valuable or even emotionally significant, but there's a fucking lot of it. And that got me thinking: what stuff would I save if my apartment was burning down and I could only save a few things. So I'm making a list. I'm not including things I'd normally carry, anyway, like the Blackberry or my wallet because that's just dumb. And I'm not including my cats because, I don't know, I'm just not--of course I'd save them.

1. Sarah. Sarah is my 1997 Gibson SG. It's red, and it fucking rocks. It is not named, surprisingly enough, after some girl I once liked. It's actually named after a girl I didn't know very well at all, but she was really nice and I liked the name. Anyway, I'd save the guitar for several reasons. First, while it wasn't my first guitar, it's the guitar on which I really learned to play well. While it took me a little while to get used to, it's not the guitar I measure all others against. In this apartment right now, there are three electric guitars, one bass, and two acoustic. Out of all of them, Sarah is the one I'd miss the most. It's the only I can never see myself selling or replacing. It'll be with me forever, even if the rest of my life burns down.
2. Drawings and posters. Maybe I'm cheating here, but I'm thinking of some very specific things. First, a Smashing Pumpkins concert poster someone gave me sometime. I actually have no idea where it came from or who gave it to me, but it's awesome. Second, a Return of the Jedi poster that's in Greek that my friend Lauren brought back for me from, well, Greece. Third, a tall, narrow drawing of a tree that my friend Karen made for me. When I have a real house, I'm going to frame them all and put them up in some prominent place, and it'll be awesome.
3. My laptop. Duh. Even if everything else is gone, I'm going to need a laptop to blog and, you know, stay connected to people. PH and I were having a conversation once where she mentioned to me that she could see herself being happy living off the grid on a farm somewhere with no connection to the outside world but a landline phone. That might be well and good for her, but it makes no sense to me. I've often heard people remark that they feel trapped or confined by their cell phones because they feel like they are always connected to other people or something. I guess I understand why someone might feel that way, but I don't feel that way at all. I love the feeling of knowing that my friends are family are only a few buttons away, and vice versa. And the internet's clearly the best communication medium ever, and so a computer is essential. I'd take the laptop over the desktop because, even though I got the cheapest laptop I could find, it's still way faster than my four-year-old desktop.
4. My dad's flag. My dad fought in the Korean War, so when he died, his coffin was draped in an American flag. The last time I was home, I asked my mom if I could have it, so I brought it home with me and I put it in one of those triangular flag-holding things. I don't really know why I wanted it or why I'd save it from a fire--it's not like I feel this need to have something of my father's near me. I don't even have a picture of him up in my apartment. But it just seems like something I should take.

And that's pretty much it. I mean, there are a lot of other things I'd like to save--like my clothes and my amp--but I think these four things are the things I'd miss the most if they were gone. And that makes me sort of happy. I mean, I'm definitely someone that gives things too much value based on emotional connections, but it's nice to know that, even if the entire world was burning down, there's more to my life than stuff.

Posted by Ismael Tapia II at 11:48 PM | Permalink | Comments (1)| Filed under Existential Nonsense

Owing to the fact that I apparently have the facial-hair-growing abilities of a prepubescent girl, I have given up in my quest to have a goatee. I am now free of facial hair once more.

Posted by Ismael Tapia II at 2:25 AM | Permalink | Comments (3)| Filed under Existential Nonsense

As I said, I was pretty apprehensive about the release of Weezer's new album. In fact, I had completely forgotten that it was supposed to come out last week. Forgotten, that is, until Mr. X called me up and reminded me. At his insistence--and on his recommendation--I went out and bought the thing. And I've been listening to it nonstop since.

In broad terms, it is simultaneously a very typical Weezer album and something completely new. I say that it is typical because it has all of the elements we've come to expect from Weezer albums good and bad: it's got cheesy lyrics, numerous references to various elements of nerd and popular culture, catchy hooks, and an awesome guitar tone. It's also very similar to The Blue Album and Pinkerton and dissimilar from The Green Album, Maladroit, and Make Believe in that it features acoustic guitars; awesome vocal harmonies and performances; and intricate, complex, nonobvious lead guitar parts. But I say that it's completely new because these various elements are often combined in unexpected ways. And there's also stuff here that Weezer hasn't really tried before. For example, while Maladroit featured some rock-rap-inspired guitar parts, Rivers Cuomo never actually tried rapping. That's not the case here--an entire verse in one song is pseudo-rapped.

So here's the rundown of what I think of each of the songs so far.

Troublemaker
This is a great opener. I was very nervous when I put the CD into the seXterra's stereo. Then this song came right on and I started nodding my head, tapping my foot, and smiling. That's a damn good sign, I think. The song is catchy but also not entirely frivolous. It reminds me of "The Good Life" in many ways, and I think the themes in the two songs are also related.

A lot of people defend The Green Album on the basis that it's "fun," which it sort of is. But this song is more fun and infectious than anything on that album and definitely an excellent opening track.

4 out of 5.

The Greatest Man That Ever Lived (Variations on a Shaker Hymn)
This song features just about every musical style ever. It literally goes from a gentle piano opening to a ridiculously gangsta-bravado-filled rap--which features lyrics about mages and magic and police-siren sound effects--to an extremely rap-metal section, to an acoustic, falsetto portion, to a beautiful Gregorian chant portion. And that's just the first two minutes. The rest of the song flows from classic Weezer to Beach Boys-like vocal portions to straight-out punk. The vocal performances throughout are astounding. And it all fucking works amazingly well.

The song is very reminiscent of the medleys on Green Day's American Idiot in that they mash together a bunch of different genres at different tempos, but I think this song is more successful than either of Green Day's songs because Weezer isn't really trying to tell a story, they're trying to make a point--that Rivers Cuomo is the greatest man that ever lived.

In my opinion, this is clearly the best song on the album and one of Weezer's best ever.

5 out of 5.

Pork and Beans
Regardless of what Mr. Morenononsense thinks, I like this song, although it is a step down from the first two tracks. I have to say that I'm already borderline burned out on this one, but I listened to it a lot before that happened. I also miss the lightsaber sound effects from the video on the album track.

It's not as good as the first two tracks, but it's still very decent. If I allowed myself to give half stars, I'd give this one 3.5. Seeing as how I don't allow myself to do that, though, I'll round up.

4 out of 5.

Heart Songs
I didn't like this song very much at first, and I was very put off by the title--Billy Corgan wrote a song with Zwan called "Heartsong" that was extremely mediocre but repeated the phrase "heart songs" over and over again. Still, the idea of this song--it's a ballad about how you just connect with some songs--really started to grow on me after repeated listenings. While the chorus still seems sort of forced and artificial to me, I find the verses really touching. There are shades of "In the Garage" here, only Mr. Cuomo admits listening to Debbie Gibson and Rob Base and DJ E-Z Rock instead of listening to KISS and playing with twenty-sided dice. I particularly love the crescendo accompanying the verse about Nirvana. Here are the lyrics:

Back in 1991
I wasn't havin' any fun
'Till my roommate said "Come on" and put a brand new record on
Had a baby on it
He was naked on it
Then I heard the chords that broke the chains I had upon me
Got together with my bros
In some rehearsal studios
Then we played our first rock show and watched the fan base start to grow
Signed the deal that gave the dough
To make a record of our own
The song come on the radio
Now people go "this is the song"

I really, really like that part.

4 out of 5.

Everybody Get Dangerous
Eh. This song is sort of... blah. I mean, it's not terrible, it's not great, it's just there. There actually is some interesting stuff going on here, but the overall feel and flow just doesn't stand up to the first few tracks. Whereas all the new and disparate elements in the first few songs seemed cool, here they just seem like overpriced decorations in a mobile home, if that makes any sense. It's like the band knew they had a mediocre song but wanted to keep it anyway, so they added some crap to it. The result, unsurprisingly, is unconvincing.

3 out of 5.

Dreamin'
This song is better than "Everybody Get Dangerous," but not by much. There's sort of an interesting breakdown section--again with the new song forms--but it's not really compelling. And it actually sort of sucks the life out of what might otherwise be a passable if disposable old-school Weezer song. After numerous listenings, the album really starts to drag at this point.

3 out of 5.

Thought I Knew
Wait a minute, that doesn't sound like Rivers! Oh, wait, that's because it's not. It's the other guitarist. Huh? Why would they let him sing? He can't fucking sing! This song reminds me of "Take Me Down" from Mellon Collie in that it's a relatively generic song whose only claim to fame is that it's sung by someone other than the band's acknowledged lead singer. But while "Take Me Down" serves as a fairly good closer for the pink CD, this song is just sort of there. And it has synthetic drums, which sound extremely synthetic. All in all, this song is not a total failure, but it's pretty not good.

2 out of 5.

Cold Dark World
Jesus, now who's singing? Oh, the fucking bassist? But he joined the band, like, five minutes ago! And he's fucking terrible. And more than that, he's fucking creepy. This song is fucking creepy. And the bassist's delivery is . . . creepy. Check out some of the lyrics:

I'm not like the others; I'll be like a brother
I will protect you, never disrespect you
But if you love then I'll be here to sex you

What? Isn't it a cardinal rule of writing about wanting to fuck someone that you don't mention that you'll be like her brother? Not only is the song creepy because it's about some guy stalking some girl, it's creepy because he says he wants to both be like her brother and fuck her. This is the worst song yet.

2 out of 5.

Automatic
Eh. This is sort of ok song. I forget that it exists, actually. There's nothing particularly interesting about it. Still, listening to it now, it's not terrible. It's just not memorable. I don't have any idea what any of the words are, and I'm sure I've heard this thing twenty times now. It is the definition of mediocre.

3 out of 5.

The Angel and the One
One of the things that's really pissed me off about Weezer's last three albums is that they've really been phoning in the closing track. Closing tracks are an excellent opportunity to do something sincere, slow, and touching. Weezer wrote what is almost definitely one of the all-time best closing tracks for The Blue Album--"Only in Dreams" is fucking nearly perfect not only as a closing song but as a song generally. They had a tough act to follow on Pinkerton, and they delivered "Butterfly," which is another amazing depressing song, and another one of my favorite Weezer tunes. Then things sort of went down hill. The Green Album had "O Girlfriend," which wasn't terrible but which nonetheless fell victim to all the same things that plagued that album. Maladroit had "December," which was a fucking epic fail of a closing song. Fucking terrible. I couldn't even remember what it sounded like until just now. And I'm sure that "Make Believe" had a song that came last, but I don't fucking remember anything about it. In fact, I just put it on, and I have no memory of ever having heard this song before, although it actually doesn't sound terrible.

Anyway, "The Angel and the One" is clearly the third best closing song on Weezer albums. Given the awesomeness of two and the terribleness of three, though, that's not really saying much. It's a slow sort of thing with lyrics about regret and whatnot, and the guitar work is pretty decent. It's not disposable, and it definitely serves to close out the album and give that sense of finality, nostalgia, and regret that I like about "Only in Dreams" and "Butterfly." And it's a decent song generally.

4 out of 5.

So, in the end, the album is not a complete disappointment and, at least through the first few songs--and especially "The Greatest Man that Ever Lived"--is pretty good. But it falls apart in the middle and never really recovers, even if the closer is pretty good. To this day, there aren't any songs on The Blue Album or Pinkerton that I would skip, but I'd skip about half of this album. I'd take that over those other three CDs any day, though. I can't remember ever having the desire to put on Make Believe, but I know that I'll want to listen to at least a few of these songs every now and then.

So Weezer has failed to completely redeem themselves, but this is a much better way to go out--if this is, in fact, their last album--than their previous effort. And that's not an entirely bad thing.

Posted by Ismael Tapia II at 11:13 PM | Permalink | Comments (1)| Filed under Existential Nonsense , Music Reviews , Things I'm Irrationally Attached To

After about three seconds of thought and consideration--and against the advice of some of my most trusted advisers--I have decided to grow a goatee. Yes, I'm following in the footsteps of Evil Spock and Garthe Knight. This is gonna be totally awesome. Or not.

After not shaving since Wednesday, I decided that the time was right to carve a goatee out of my facial hair. So that's what I just did. It's still rather thin, but it doesn't look entirely terrible. Although I have to say that I'm having a hard time taking my reflection seriously. That bodes ill for the future of the goatee, I think. And I'm definitely feeling more douchey than before. That's probably also bad. But I'm keeping it for now. I'm going grocery shopping in a few minutes, so I'm sort of curious to see whether I'm embarrassed to be seen in public. Doing something embarrassing has never stopped me before, of course, but that's not really the point.

So, for the moment, I have a goatee. We'll see how long this lasts.

Posted by Ismael Tapia II at 2:32 PM | Permalink | Comments (4)| Filed under Existential Nonsense , Funny Shit , Things I'm Irrationally Attached To

My god, the entire fucking world has turned into a swamp. Seriously, the goddamned humidity is at 83 percent. It's like walking around in a fucking sauna all day. Only it's not as hot, I guess, so that's good. But it's still bad. And I can't fucking handle it.

Being from Arizona, I can handle heat. That's different than saying I enjoy the heat, but I can fucking deal with temperatures over one-hundred degrees. And I'd much rather do that than deal with what's going on right now. I feel like I'm fucking drowning every time I go outside. Everything feels like it's been soaking in water for days--it's disgusting to touch my desk, my mouse, or even my fucking pillow. It's all damp. And, if it was completely up to me, I'd take a fucking shower every ten minutes. I mean, I guess seeing as how I'm not going to the office today, it is completely up to me, but that's not the point.

The point is that it's fucking humid and I fucking hate it. And don't get me started on how much it sucks to wear a suit in this shit. God.

Posted by Ismael Tapia II at 10:16 AM | Permalink | Comments (1)| Filed under Existential Nonsense , Rants About Things That Make Me Irrationally Angry

In English, we use the apostrophe for several purposes. Two of these uses are most common: we use the apostrophe to indicate that some noun possesses something ("This is John's book" or "That is my cat's favorite toy") and to indicate contractions ("I'll be back" or "He's more machine, now, than man"). We do not use the apostrophe to indicate plurality--ever. So all those fucking signs out there that advertise "CD's" are not only wrong, they are offensive.

That's all fairly simple, I think, but now it's going to get complicated--if you're an idiot.

See, people seem to have trouble understanding how the apostrophe interacts with one of the most common words in English: it. The confusion seems to arise from the fact that "it" can be both possessive and part of a contraction. And it's also confusing, apparently, because, unlike almost all other possessive forms, the possessive form of "it"--its--does not require an apostrophe. That's a fairly simple exception to understand, though, and the contraction follows the same rule as every other contraction: "it is" turns into "it's," with the apostrophe taking the place of the space and missing letter or letters. My point here is that while these quirks might be tricky for someone new to English or language in general, they're not particularly complicated. So you're an idiot if you use "it's" with an apostrophe when what you mean is "its" without an apostrophe and vice versa. Still, I'm sure I've made that mistake myself on numerous occasions, so I guess it's not the end of the world.

Still, there is absolutely no excuse for this abomination:
What the fuck is going on here? While there is sometimes an apostrophe after the "t," there is never--NEVER!!--an apostrophe after the "s"! That's just fucking insane. And it's baffling to me that the message on the inscription made it through as many people as it must have made it through without someone saying "Whoa, hey, we should probably get rid of this apostrophe" and someone else going "Hey, nice catch, Bob, we almost made ourselves look like unmitigated idiots."

Good god, people, come on!

Posted by Ismael Tapia II at 12:02 AM | Permalink | Comments (7)| Filed under Funny Shit , Grammar for Idiots , Rants About Things That Make Me Irrationally Angry , Things I'm Irrationally Attached To

I'm going to draw an analogy between what Hillary Fucking Clinton has been up to and a not entirely hypothetical from my own life. First I'll present what Hillary Fucking Clinton actually did, then I'll make a plausible analogy about myself. For context, I'll be using a hypothetical about the one time I've run for an elected position in my life: Law Review elections.

What Hillary Fucking Clinton did: Acknowledge that the delegates from Florida and Michigan wouldn't count but then campaign there, anyway.

Hypothetical analogy from my own life: Proxy voting is allowed at Law Review elections, but only if the Editor-in-Chief gives prior consent. If someone just doesn't show up, they lose their vote, end of story. So the analogous situation would be if I had asked people who I knew weren't going to show up to vote for me and then was like "oh, no, dudes, it's totally cool--I know this isn't going to count. I'm just saying, you know, you should cast your not-gonna-count vote for me. Totally."

What Hillary Fucking Clinton did: Presumed she'd win because of an entirely irrational sense of entitlement.

Hypothetical analogy from my own life: This would be like if I had walked into Law Review elections and had the opening line of my EIC speech be "My name is Ismael Tapia II and I am your new EIC. You will bow down before me and kiss my ring! If you are a woman, I may be scheduling some private cite-checking tutoring. You will be cite-checking my penis," then ripped off my suit to reveal a t-shirt with the slogan "I am your EIC, bitch, and you cannot stop me!" My point is it would be bad form.

What Hillary Fucking Clinton did: Started arguing that the delegates she agreed wouldn't count--but campaigned for, anyway--should, you know, count.

Hypothetical analogy from my own life: This would be like if I had started ranting and raving about how people who didn't show up to elections should nonetheless have their votes counted. It would have gone something like this:

Fuck you, you fucking fucking fascist fucks! This is supposed to be a democracy, right? And if there's one fucking thing I know about democracy, it's that it involves voting. And the whole point of voting is to have those votes counted. Goddamn you, you fucking fucks! This is like poll taxes and shit! Saying you have to actually "be" at elections and follow the "rules" everyone "got together" and "debated" and "agreed on" is like implementing literacy tests! Do you fuckers not see that! I'm fucking better! I'm fucking better! I'm fucking better! Look at my shirt! It says "I am your EIC, bitch, and you cannot stop me!" Read my shirt! Get the fuck away from me! Read my shirt!

The difference between what actually happened and the hypothetical analogy from my life, of course, is that the people on Law Review would have had the good sense to have me arrested. They would not have met me and my ridiculous demands in the middle.

What Hillary Fucking Clinton did: Inch closer and closer to her inevitable defeat but--because of the aforementioned sense of entitlement--refuse to admit that her campaign was dead in the water with the net result being a divisive, wasteful, stupid primary process.

Hypothetical analogy from my own life: This would be as if I had, during the counting process, stood up and revealed that I had dynamite strapped to my chest and made it clear that if I didn't win, I'd blow the whole fucking Law Review up because, goddammit, I love it and I should win. Then I'd start stamping my foot and wailing about how much I deserved to win because I had the best cite-checking scores and the most Golden Bluebook awards. Then I'd scream about how I was totally "cereal" and everyone who didn't vote for me could go fuck themselves. Then I'd say "If I can't be EIC, then no one can!" and push the button on my fucking dynamite belt. Then it wouldn't actually be dynamite, it would be flour, and everyone would just be covered in white shit. Maybe this hypothetical analogy broke down towards the end, but you get the point.

What Hillary Fucking Clinton did: Lost, but then refused to admit that it was numerically impossible for her to become the fucking nominee.

Hypothetical analogy from my own life: This would be like if, after I lost, I started giving ridiculous orders like that we were changing the name of the Law Review to the Tapia Law Review of Shit that Our Glorious Editor-in-Chief Thinks Is Interesting or Whatever and refused to respond to anyone who referred to me as anything other than "Chief Tapia." I personally would probably take it further and threaten to expel any pretenders to my throne. Then I'd get extremely paranoid and decide that everyone wanted to take my power from me, so I'd kick everyone out and run the Law Review myself. And then I'd be happy!

What Hillary Fucking Clinton did: Hint that she'd totally be up for being Obama's running mate.

Hypothetical analogy from my own life: This would be like if, after losing the election but nonetheless declaring myself Unquestioned Lord and Master Editor-in-Chief of the Law Review Forever in Perpetuity, I said "But, listen, I'm totally open to being Senior Managing Editor or something. Just remember--I'm also the Emperor of all this shit right here."

My point is that Hillary Fucking Clinton is fucking crazy and she needs to grow a beard and sink into obscurity like Al Gore did after the 2000 election. God, I fucking hate you, Hillary Fucking Clinton.

Posted by Ismael Tapia II at 12:42 AM | Permalink | Comments (3)| Filed under Existential Nonsense , Funny Shit , Political Rants , Rants About Things That Make Me Irrationally Angry , Rants on the News , Wisconsin Law Review

I really, really like music. It would be really hard for me to choose between being deaf and being blind. On the one hand, not being able to see would suck. But on the other, life would seem so empty without music. I mean, if a picture's worth a thousand words, then the right song is worth a million. Some songs are just perfect expressions of sadness or anger or frustration or excitedeness or whatever. And I can't really think of anything that would be worse than that. Well, yeah, I guess I can: being blind would suck worse. But it would be close.

Anyway, listening to music is great. But making it is better. And by that I mean that, while it's awesome to write music and arrange different parts and record it, playing music with someone else is pretty much the funnest thing there is. There's something about the interplay between two or more musicians that I really can't describe.

In high school, I got together with some friends of mine and played some chords occasionally. But the problem was that we weren't very good at our instruments yet, so it made it sort of difficult to, you know, play. In college, I tried a few different times to play with people, but people always had these ridiculous ideas about what they wanted to do. Look, yeah, there's a place for stupid delay-pedal wankery or guitar-synth nonsense, but all I wanted to do was rock. The most fun I had playing guitar in college was stumbling my way through improv things with Hannis at The House, which was fun but which was also sad because I was severely outclassed. And then law school happened and I barely even played the guitar myself, let alone with people.

But fuck that. I was driving to the office the other day and thought to myself: "Dude, you've got the time, the talent, and the motivation. It's time to start a band!" So that's what I did. Or started talking about doing. So I called up the only other guitarist with similar interests I know--tRJ--and proposed that we put up an ad on Craigslist. And we did. And now we've got a few bassists and drummers we might play with, which I'm ridiculously excited about.

But I'm also excited about this past Saturday. tRJ and I sat down and worked on that still-untitled song and came up with the makings of something really, really awesome. We recorded a rough little demo and sent it out to the people that had responded to our ads. We heard back from one of the drummers that responded right away, and he demonstrated himself to be an idiot. He suggested that we go in a funk direction with that song. We immediately dismissed him. But we're still waiting to hear back from some other people, and I don't think they'll think it sucked. I hope, anyway.

That's what I did this weekend.

Posted by Ismael Tapia II at 12:32 AM | Permalink | Comments (0)| Filed under Existential Nonsense , Fun Shit I've Done , General Awesomeness