life is short

I'm of half a mind to unsubscribe from every RSS feed I have that doesn't bring me cute animals, bookshelves, or food. Everything is fucked and I don't want to hear about it anymore.

Haruki Murakami wrote an article for the NY Times about reality A and reality B, where B is the one where 9/11 never happened:

Then we can’t help but notice that the world of Reality B appears to be realer and more rational than the world of Reality A. To put it in different terms, we are living a world that has an even lower level of reality than the unreal world. What can we possibly call this if not “chaos”?

What kind of meaning can fiction have in an age like this? What kind of purpose can it serve? In an age when reality is insufficiently real, how much reality can a fictional story possess?

And then we come to the first volume of Transmetropolitan, where an intrepid journalist reports upon the atrocities committed by a monolithic government, and goes "oh shit" when it turns out that people actually care that things are happening. The real-world version of that involves "kettling" children as young as 14, where they pen them up like criminals, denying them food and water for daring to suggest that tripling school fees might, y'know, fuck their lives and deny them further opportunities in life.

Things were supposed to be more awesome than fiction, goddamn it. Where's the good mirror universe? Because there has to be a world better than this.

The United States is fucking stupid, and sad, and probably irrevocably broken, thus I need videos to remind me that not everything is failboat and terrible.


I mean, she's just painting things in sand. It shouldn't be that affecting, right?


Watch in HD and full-screen for best effect.

I have pitted 1.5 lbs of cherries and I look like that Dexter promo picture. I'm not convinced he's a serial killer. I just think he really liked cherry desserts.