This week the guys get deep into some fight talk (Klitschko v. Joshua, Canelo vs Chavez, Jr., Demian Maia v. Jorge Masvidal) then follow it up by a deep dive into Millennial music, 808 jams, etc. Chayanne repeats his claim that Millennials are shit people while Jorge, the Gen-Yer, talks about how rap died after Ice Cube.
In this episode Chayanne & Jorge talk about Earth Day, Call of Duty vs. Marines, MOABs, Flat Earth vs the Globe Conspiracy. No law talk this week but the boys go on mad tangents!
I often reflected on a proverb. I cannot say when I first came upon it. Maybe I read it in a translated Japanese text, or was it Mandarin? There’s about a thirty-percent chance that it had Cantonese origins. Though it’s more likely that it was a meme of mysterious origins (scrawled with ball-point pen on the back of a local cable company’s billing envelope sitting past due on the welcome desk of a strip mall, ninja school that hosts nightly masquerade balls for its LARPing members… no shinobi-no-mono). From there it likely spawned into the dark web upon the Cheetos-fingers of a plump pubescent would-be warrior of the night, and circulated with its unattributed quote through thousands of I.P. addresses where it finally found its way to my Facebook feed.
Continue reading “In Defense of Violence: Ancient Japanese/Chinese/Internet Proverbs”
I once had a garden. A dream of one before that. It was a small garden, at first. Okay, just four tomato plants that I had bought at the Home Depot. Though it consisted of four humble plants that I repotted to a larger planter, it was my garden. I watered it faithfully, and waited for the cherry tomatoes to grow. About forty days later they did, and I was ready to eat the one or two a day that ripened by the time that I returned home from work. I always saved a few for the wife. I lived in this easy bliss for a few weeks until they came. Ravenous, furry, grey locusts – squirrels. They would ravage my humble crop daily. I would pull into my driveway to find scenes akin to a Spanish Tomatina. It didn’t take long for me to render myself; helpless, to the pulpy, fleshy carnage and I quietly, grudgingly withdrew to the easy comfort of autumn decay.
Continue reading “On Famine Farming”