these conversations kill

Luck does not exist. Things happen, or things don't happen - but none of it has anything to do with destiny*. If you want to believe in something, believe in algebra.

That said, Scott Weiland is unlucky. It seems incomprehensible that anyone could independently destroy his life as relentlessly as the former Stone Temple Pilots' frontman.

Let's ignore his police record for a moment and look at his musical career: Has there ever been a band that sold as many albums without anyone appearing to like them? Their first album, 1992's Core, sold 8 million copies, yet they don't seem to have more than 13 or 14 fans. I'll concede that Weiland shouldn't have tried to mimic Eddie Vedder in the video for "Plush", because that made him look like a goateed super assclown. But that does not negate the fact that the second, third and fourth STP albums are kinda incredible. On occasion rock pundits will begrudgingly admit that "Interstate Love Song" was among the better rock songs of the 1990s. These pundits are wrong. "Interstate Love Song" was the best song of the 1990s. It's even better than "Smells Like Teen Spirit", "You Oughta Know" and even "Ice Ice Baby". But hipsters will always hate STP, and that hatred is wholly the result of sociocultural issues that have everything to do with the presupposed importance of the grunge revolution and nothing to do with the actual music. If STP had emerged in 1972 or 2003, people would have thought that they were the shizznit; unfortunately, they happened to emerge in 1992, thereby becoming the eternal poster children for soulless, derivative, quasi-metal fraud.

Staind, anyone?

I was an STP fan. I had the band t-shirts, the goatee. That said, I will not purchase the Velvet Revolver disc. The fact that Weiland was even asked to join Velvet Revolver is pretty hilarious, as it suggests that Axl Rose is so crazy that - by comparison - Weiland seemed like a reasonable person to work with. But that's just further proof of how unlucky Scott Weiland really is. Most people in his position would be dropped by society and allowed to die alone (e.g., Layne Staley). Weiland keeps getting second chances, and that means he'll never quit fucking up.

All things considered, this strikes me as unlucky.

big bang baby, it's a crash, crash, crash

* (save The Music of Chance ... explanation to follow)
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of a shyness that is criminally vulgar - diabetic cows who blog

I am the son and heir
Of nothing in particular

Weblogging.

Of nothing in particular.

The problem with blogging every day is that most lack the beautiful and original content that you can find on www.toase.net. Perhaps I'm being self-congratulatory to think any of my content or my friends' content was ever beautiful or original. Remember, just a blog.

Yesterday, I woke up sucking on lemon. Most weblogs fall into this category. The kind of self-loathing that could only come from a 300 lbs teenage girl, or a near-sighted, hairy palmed, spineless excuse for a 38-year old man. These people have nobody to physically talk to, no one to confide in, no one to share their in hopes and dreams. Posts usually consist of 1-5 sentences and more often than not end with, "I hate my self." As gatmog would say, "a boil on the ass of humanity". Fascinating, much like watching a train wreck.

Perhaps I could become more prolific, but I'll need more fodder. These blogs are created by the highschool quarterback/prom queen/Mariah Carey types. These people usually have money, looks and political aspirations. What they don't have is a clue about homophones. There their. These blogs are a vacuum, sucking the very soul out of it's reader (kind of like www.cnn.com these days). Posts usually consist of 1-5 PAGES and more often than not end with, "Cocaine is fun.", or "I need a haircut."

Calculated cutlery. Good weblogging, if there is such a thing. One fascinating commentator links you promptly to a proliferation of other sites, so you might begin reading about yesterday's news and end up with a marvelous link on ancient Irish curses. A true manifestation of the journey archetype. There goes my hero, watch him as he blogs. Posts are usually 0.5 - 2 page(s) and more often than not end with, "Curious juxtaposition, isn't it?"

Calculated Cutlery: www.toase.net

Train Wreck: see human condition.

Remember, just a blog.
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800,000 dead in 100 days

Only 2 things are infinite, the universe and human stupidity, and I'm not sure about the former.

I've been reading a lot of Remembrance Day fodder ... hero this ... bravery that ... please make it stop. My heart goes out to every soldier that has ever sacrificed his or her life in war. My pity to their families and friends.

The following quote about war made me think about the nature of things."We must remember. If we do not, the sacrifice of those one hundred thousand Canadian lives will be meaningless. They died for us, for their homes and families and friends, for a collection of traditions they cherished and a future they believed in; they died for Canada. The meaning of their sacrifice rests with our collective national consciousness; our future is their monument." (Heather Robertson, A Terrible Beauty, The Art of Canada at War, Toronto, Lorimer, 1977.)

My problem with Remembrance Day is simple: all rhetoric and allegory. No action. North Americans don't give a fuck about our global village, never mind poor war veterans. Patent laws prevent AIDS victims in Africa from getting basic medicines. America rapes Iraq for her oil so you can get over your "mid-life crisis" and purchase that SUV. The internet and television pacify us while Bin Laden and Bush complete another business deal. Obesity runs rampant as fat cows blog about highschool quarterbacks, boredom and eating disorders.

And what monuments have we erected? Korea, Vietnam, Afghanistan, Iran, Chechnya, Israel/Palestine, Bosnia Herzegovina, Sierra Leone, Rwanda, 9/11, Iraq. Did you know that the war in Rwanda, along with several political and economic upheavals, exacerbated ethnic tensions, culminating in April 1994 in the genocide of roughly 800,000 men,women and children in 100 days. Children armed with machetes were forced to murder their countrymen. Hey, maybe EA Games could make a video game about Rwanda and call it, "Rwanda: Operation Rusty Machete"?! They could use the new Half-Life 2 engine ... it would look so awesome! {sarcasm} As long as the poor remain poor, we have failed all of humankind and have not learned anything from the past. Human beings are never inherently evil. Do you honestly think a Palestinian blows him or herself up because they're "evil terrorists"? Or maybe is it because they are made to live like refugees in their own country. Their voice for the voiceless.

For example, I've come across some really sad facts about The Battle of Dieppe (August 19, 1942). The Canadians of the 2nd Division had absorbed 68% casualties in the battle for Dieppe- 3367 out of 4963 officers and men. 907 were killed on the beaches or died in captivity, 586 were wounded, and 1946, including many wounded, were taken prisoner by the Germans. There had been almost no preliminary naval bombardment to support the attackers nor much preliminary bombing to soften the Dieppe defences. The Churchill tanks, struggling ashore with enormous difficulty, had found that their treads could not get purchase on the stony shingle. The 27 tanks that made it out of the water could fire their guns but, unable to move well, they could offer only limited fire support to the infantry. What perplexes me is the pride associated with this battle. They didn't die for us on that beach ... our Canadians were sent there by the "Allies" to be massacred. Massacred. My heart goes out to the men who died on that silly beach. We were made to be fodder. War generals see numbers, not souls. In Dieppe, they got both wrong.

Any fool can make things bigger, more complex and more violent. A country cannot simultaneously prepare and prevent war. The true pioneers of a "warless world" are the youth that refuse military service.

"He who joyfully marches to music in rank and file has already earned
my contempt. He has been given a large brain by mistake, since for him
the spinal cord would fully suffice. This disgrace to civilization
should be done away with at once. Heroism at command, senseless
brutality, deplorable love-of-country stance, how violently I hate all
this, how despicable and ignoble war is; I would rather be torn to
shreds than be a part of so base an action! It is my conviction that
killing under the cloak of war is nothing but an act of murder." A.E.

onstage karate
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