There's a general sense of delight that overcomes One when One has found a person who finds a general sense of delight in causing One a general sense of delight. There's nothing quite like it. It's delightful. It resonates inside One like a gospel choir's vibratos in a gothic church's water closet. One remembers that that is what One was made for. One realizes how much One had missed by hiding away from the world. One feels like One.
Seven on the other hand, feels nothing but a burning desire for vengeance. Thirty-Two sits on the curb listening to the disturbed ramblings of Twenty-Three because he feels like he's looking at his reflection and worries if he can't help him then he might lose himself. Four Hundred and Fifty-Five sits on the stoop with his books, asking the big questions to no one, while Six works two jobs to support him because despite everything she still loves him. Seventy-Three and Forty-Nine are stealing cars and playing dice while the letters A and D are duping tourists with three card monty and spend school days in the pool halls. L, M, N, and O are comforting P who didn't get into university and is pregnant with Fifty-Five's number. What will her algebra-ist parents say?
But worse off, worse off by far, is Two. Two, the head of the Consonants, a murder of ruthless hard sounds, has to decide whether to turn state's evidence or be murdered in prison. Slowly. "Lose lose." She keeps repeating to herself. The only question remaining is, what's the point of dignity? Four Hundred and Fifty-Five had always helped her with questions like this, but he's not here and the gun is.
This is a day on Sesame Street. The gang's all here.
Sunday night at 9 on FXX
Are there many sounds more satisfying than that of a cup of hot, freshly-brewed coffee being poured into a mug covered with kittens saying "Wassa matta you?"? The soft gurgle of dark sweaty caffeine as it tumbles into itself, like a portable ocean of hangover cure and fresh starts. Perhaps a newborn's laugh? Or a dog telling a joke? Or a waterfall giving sound tax advice? But mostly no. There is no substitute. A cup of coffee is one of mankind’s greatest beverages, almost entirely due to that very sound.
The word coffee comes from a combination of the words "cough" and the expression "Fee-fi-fo-fum" due to its humble beginnings in the 17th century. Back then it was used as medicine by giants in hills of Turkey. Sometimes, in their merriment, the giants would knock over a cup and it’s contents would cascade down the mountains and into the villages, and though the veritable tsunami of caffeine cascading towards them posed a very real threat to not only their homes but to their persons, they were inevitably lulled into a deep sleep by that very sound and many lives were lost.
Unpopular for decades afterwards, it wasn't until the 1950s that coffee wedged its way into the middle of the food pyramid like a delicious uncursed pharaoh, helping people to shake off the shackles of sleep and rise into the freedom of another crushing work day. Coffee first appealed because of its rich dark colour which made drinking coffee in America a covert way to protest segregation, like the Jesus fish in ancient times or the Live Strong bracelet of early 2000s.
Coffee truly came into fashion in the late 50s when the job of CEO was created. The men filling the new roles felt they needed to look more important to distract from the fact that they had no idea what exactly it was that a CEO does. And so they took to carrying mugs full of piping hot coffee with them everywhere as they barked out orders about "re-prioritizing" and "market share", earning as much of their salary from pure unadulterated confidence as from their thick lustrous hair and penises. To try to emulate their leaders, the workers in offices quickly took to drinking coffee in the morning, noon, afternoon and night noon. This led to short-term increases of productivity from caffeine boosts and long-term mental health conditions from lack of sleep.
In the 1960s coffee was rejected by the youth movement of hippies and the gradually-aging as a tool of the Man, whereas herbal tea was seen as a tool of the WoMan who, unable yet to truly participate in the work place, was seen as a nurturing instead of a driving force. Naps ruled the day and coffee was left on the shelf, the hyperactive step-child no one wanted to feed on Christmas.
In the 70s coffee was again brought to the forefront as being a perfect pairing with cocaine. Whispered tales of Jesus doing a line off of the top of a cup of coffee were exchanged by groups of bankers huddled in toilet cubicles. Some said it was what gave him the strength to overthrow the tables of the money changers. Others said it was what brought him back from the dead. Some said he just loved to party. Whatever the truth was, Christianity in America was on the rise, coffee was riding the wave and neither has looked back since.
It was the great record producer Phil Spector who first smelled the sight of the sound of pouring coffee in popular music. He put it in "Be my Baby" by the Ronnettes instead of drums in a visionary move that changed music for generations to come. Soon everyone was using coffee percussion. The Rolling Stones had Charlie Watts on the French press for most of the album Their Satanic Majesty's Request as well as their oft-overlooked cover album The Rolling Stones do the Chipmunks.
Soon the soothing rhythm of coffee was picked up by marketing firms. It began slowly by being put in the background of whiskey commercials to make Dewar’s seem less threatening to children. Soon companies of all kinds were capitalizing on coffee's dulcet tones and it began to be used to sell cars, stray cats and in one instance even xylophones. Charities like Unicef immediately saw the benefit of coffee sounds and would regularly use them to counter the icky feeling that videos of fly-covered starving children would cause. Studies showed that coffee sounds decreased nervous channel flipping during Unicef commercials by nearly 80%. The move worked too well though. Soon it emerged that the tones and pitches and rolling serenity that is pouring a cup of coffee was so soothing to people that they had started recording Unicef commercials and watching them to relax. This normalization of fly-covered starving children reversed the "shame" that Unicef had tried to cause with them and led many to believe that starving, as one congresswoman put it, "wasn't that bad after all". 19,000 American children lost their lives in what is now being called "the biggest coffee-related on-purpose starving of children from a misunderstood television commercial in recorded history".
But despite its ups and downs, coffee plugs on. A conversation-starter in the break room. A taste of adulthood for the sullen child. An early morning apology for late-night drunken tambourine practice. A scalding stain on your jeans. A worthwhile 5-pound investment. It’s safe to say that coffee, like foosball, is truly here to stay.
I'm on the Huffington Post website with a thing that you lucky ducks got to see first.
I have never read a "women aren't funny" article that has made me laugh. Therefore I think it is safe to say that people who think that women aren't funny, aren't funny. And since they aren't funny they have no business having published opinions on who is and who is not funny. Imagine a zoologist who had written a paper on the mating habits of mandrills without having successfully mated with a mandrill! His peer reviews would read "Unreliable!" and "Fuck that monkey! For science!".
However having just made you laugh I endorse this message.
Bullying is still a very large problem in our society.
Whether it’s of nerds, dorks, weaklings, tattletales, crybabies, losers, teacher’s pets or assistant managers it has to stop. The time for equal treatment for all of these lesser-thans has come and it’s up to us to do it because if they could defend themselves we wouldn’t have this problem.
There are a number of options. Here they are in list form.
1. Treat the bullies like actual bulls. Have them chase a Spaniard around a ring for the entertainment of the masses. Then at the end, when they’re all tuckered out, have the bully bronzed and left on Wall St to think about what they’ve done.
42. Bully the bullies. Make bully a bad word. Ban kids from calling bullies bullies because “it’s mean”. Nothing makes kids want to make fun of other kids like having adults tell them it’s not ok. This will reverse the bullying universe turning the bullied into the bullies and vice versa and while not actually doing anything to solve bullying it’s nice that everyone gets a turn.
Seven. Leave three bullies hanging dead by the neck from the flag pole outside the school like they used to do with pirates. When I was younger my friends and I all saw Pirates of the Caribbean where that happened and to this day none of us are pirates. The system works.
#. Social Darwinism.
Cousins are a troublesome group.
Cousins, from the French: Cushions, are people you know and don't know. Like the milkman and Kanye West. They are a collection of similar DNA placed at the interpersonal distance equivalent to the being across a well lillypadded pond in that you recognize parts of them but their details are shaky and their odor is damp.
Etymologicallyallyally and romantically cousins are most popular in the South of the United States of America because of their French background courtesy of the Bourbon royal family's support during the American civil war. When a representative from the Bourbon family remarked on a Southern emissary's particularly husky young female cousin's behind as being "More cushion for the pushin", an idiom and a lifestyle were born. Immediately thinking that sleeping with portly semi-distant relatives was all the rage in Paris and not wanting to be seen as provincial, every Southerner with a braeburn shaped uncle's daughter was to be suddenly gallivanting about town, arm in arm with their rotund kin saying things like "Extra grits for my lovely blood relative please." the goal being to have the most cousin for "pushin" to show off they're ability to not only afford to feed their cousins to the point of what was eventually to become an epidemic, but also to show that, like the French, they too got hard at the mere thought of big fat cousins. Soon after it was discovered that these Southern aristocrats thought that French people were cousin lovers the Bourbon Family (themselves from a bamboo shoot of a family tree) became affronted at such behavior and ordered their support for the confederates be revoked thus winning the war for the the Union. The French left without a word and it has always been assumed by the population of the confederate states that it was because they had beaten the French, known to be the world's great lovers, at their own game and instead of admitting they had been bettered at inbreeding had simply left in a huff like cowards in the night. A reputation that the Second World War did nothing to help.
However for most of us cousins are simply the people we have to visit at the less important holidays like Thanksgiving and your grandmother's birthday who smell wrong and have strange family traditions. Here is my field guide to dealing with cousins:
1.Don't have sex with your cousin.
2.If your cousin offers to have sex with you kindly decline and say "I think Grandma's opening her presents now we should probably go back into the living room".
2a. Say this especially when it's not your grandmother's birthday so your cousin thinks you might have lost your mind. It will comfort them to believe that even if you do tell someone what they proposed no one will believe crazy old you anyways which will make the next time they ask you to pass the stuffing much less awkward.
3.Don't introduce your cousins to your friends. Cousins are inevitably lonely people (except for you of course. you are the cousin that has it all going on.) and will latch desperately onto your friend group and claim kinship as the reason you have to let them hang out with you. It's much easier to just give them a false phone number and go about your business.
I hope this has been helpful and informative.
A new form of journalism is coming at you on this day. It's the Betts Beat. Covering all the stories that the "mass media" tries to hide. Join me every week as I uncover the meatiest stories of the preceding 168 hours.
November 11th, 2011
Lonesome Pete shows bulls how it's done
This week there was a tumultuous donnybrook at the local tapestry retailer, Lonesome Pete's Tapestry Emporium That Ruined My Marriage But I Hold Onto It Just To Show That Bitch That Opening a Tapestry Store Wasn't The Worst Mistake of My Life (generally referred to by the locals simply as Lonesome Pete's), when a drunken and irate Lonesome Pete set fire to a tapestry worth over $500 and assaulted a rodeo clown after a customer asked how his wife was doing.
Enraged and fueled by a steady diet of poppers and cinnamon flavoured whiskey, Lonesome Pete (or Pete as he prefers to be called) began headbutting the western-themed entertainer to the tune of "What becomes of the broken hearted" by Jimmy Ruffin while allegedly screaming "Can't you read my fucking sign!?!" as onlookers originally cheered and laughed thinking it was part of an act then, upon understanding the situation, proceeded to bet on how many verses of the classic Motown favorite Lonesome Pete would make it through before he developed whiplash. The clown, who refused to be named, was in L.P.T.E.T.R.M.M.B.I.H.O.I.J.T.S.T.B.T.O.A.T.S.W.T.W.M.O.M.L. looking for a calming blue tapestry to buy as a wedding gift for his betrothed bull whom he is to marry in international waters on the summer solstice of next year. When squeezed for a comment, his squeaky nose was quoted as saying "honk!" but his mouth, as controlled by his comatose brain, refused to speak to reporters.
After craniumly assaulting the barreled bozo Lonesome Pete ran out to the forest to gather moss and twigs to start a fire. His reasoning for this was unclear as there was a flamethrower in the back of his store just begging to be used. Upon returning with the desired supplies and with a scout troupe in tow whom he was about to "teach a goddamned lesson to", he tore down a tapestry of unparalleled intricacy and proceeded to ignite it using the friction caused by rubbing his sticks and moss together in it's center and "hoping for the best" as he has never been into the woods before in his "goddamned" life. As it turns out he is a natural.
No charges were laid as it was his own property which he set alight and no one really cares about a rodeo clown who's into bestiality. The clown was taken to the forest and shot execution style by the boy scout troupe to earn their "bettering society one bullet at a time" badge. When asked for comment Lonesome Pete said that he "never loved that bitch anyways and he hopes she gets gonorrhea."
On the plus side, local gambling addict "Steve" can keep his knees a little while longer thanks to having correctly bet that whiplash would set in after the lyrics "I've got to find some piece of mind" on it's second reprieve and winning $250 which his wife made him immediately give to her in order to pay off the mafia.
I've decided I need a website that I can update myself and mess around with blogging and such so I'm setting this up now. My good friend Jonah Coombes set up a great website for me but he's a busy guy and I always felt bad asking him to update things for me cause I'm too stupid to work out how the magic box with the porn and free movies is able to make my face go to people's houses.
So here we are. This is me while I'm doing this in my apartment with a bottle of Russell's Reserve rye, a shot glass and a recently empty bowl of Honeycombs by my side.
You can see how I'm flummoxed.
So this will evolve and change and dance and sing and make you laugh both with me and at me over time. Check it for upcoming shows, random online diary-ing and gratuituous use of multisyllabic verbosity as well as videos, updates and nonsense.
Chris Betts isn't funny. I've said it before and I'll say it again. (If anyone can send me a doo-wop beat to sing that over I'd really appreciate it)
I'm gonna make this site less shitty now. Later.