I Wanna Rant and Rave, Too!

I was reading, as I tend to do. Just bopping around to other websites, other blogs, other emails, ad nausea. It was quite lovely. I was reading http://pussyranch.blogspot.com/ and thoroughly enjoyed the rant on reality TV eugenics. It got me thinking about an article in the MediaFile from San Francisco's Media Alliance. In it, the writer broke down news anchors and how they fit their roles. My friend Rebecca has a series of emails she has sent me (maybe soon to be posted, pending permission) titled "Rant #[Fill In The Blank]" that would expound about the many absurdities and inconveniences of her day-to-day life. Other people I know are able to hold vociferous conversations regarding idiocy.

And then there's me.

There are plenty of things that up my dander, irk me, rile my ire, and whatnot. Just writing the paragraph above goaded my guff. My heart is beating slightly more rapdily than it was two minutes ago. And yet, whenever I go into a rant about something, I sound like a pouty five year old pushing angst through tears and last all of two to three minutes. I generally blow my contrary wad too soon. In ranting, I'm a lousy lay.

So now what? Do I try to move slower, building to my point until climaxing in a witty and ironic rebuke of the object of my agression?


Do I take pity on the poor saps who have something to say? Do I thank the stars that I am not obsessed with the things that fuck me up? Feel grateful that I need not pound tables and take up space with my antipathy? Maybe those capable of rants are really insecure, needing to pick apart external things to try and find their place in the universe. Where does that leave me, being so deeply insecure that I want to be like the people so insecure they develop the skill and need to rant?

The only thing I really seem capable of picking apart in an obsessive manner is myself. I'm not particularly good at figuring out my faults and defaults and adjusting, changing or discarding them for the purpose of general self-improvement and mature introspective growth. I just notice the things about ME that annoy ME.

Besides, I never actually seem to get anywhere. The closest to Debate Club I got was timing a match. It was big fun, not being a geek who actually was in Debate Club, mind you, but one who gave up a Saturday morning going to school to TIME Debate Club. How lame? So, when I start to run my mouth, my brain ends up taking many sharp lefts, u-turns and complete tangents, never completing a thought and generally ending up nowhere but exasperated. Without a conclusion, it doesn't seem like much of a point, does it?

There was a time when I thought I would make a hell of a lawyer. I loved to argue. Sure, I lost all the time. Sure, arguing a point was tiresome and draining. Sure, I often was won over to the opposing opinion by the seductive persuasion of the way other people argue a point. Sure, ninety percent of my desire to become a lawyer stemmed from the shock value of telling my parents I wanted to go to Law School.

As it turns out, I had a couple of the skills to make it in law. First, I have a knack for mind breaking tedium. I can fill out forms, wade through bureaucracy, sit on hold, make cold calls, sign people's names, paper clip and file without any thought to boredom or mind-rot. That is, as long as it has nothing to do with me personally. For some reason, if all this involves my life, I turn into a shrivelled, quaking mess. (For more on that, please refer to an, as yet, unwritten rant on Matthew's (Im)Personal Affairs). As long as it is impersonal, and generally for pay or some other form of me-benefitting reimbursement, I do well. Second, to make it in law, you must have an inroad, I've already been to jail!

There. See.

So where does that leave us?


Credit Where Credit Is Due

It would be rude, and selfish, if I took any credit for this website, at least at this point.

Fred, my love/main squeeze/guy/webmaster/teacher/etc. has very patiently walked me through the great big scary world wide web and html. He says he's not very good with languages, but how this guy speaks html is beyond me.

So here's to you, Fred

Love you.

Booberhead Pirate Blogg

Hey weasel-heads!

Just wanted to take a few minutes to overthrow the humans on the website.

Today I woke up (three times already), went to the litterbox, went to the front door, pooped there, had a few gulps of water, and went trolling for treats. After giving dad the leg scratch and the adorable "I need treats" look, followed by that irresistably cute yawn that I do, dad gave me a chicken-snack. They're alright. They're not as good as the vitamin glop, but they sure beat those freaky-ass bacon things. And raisins: What the hell is up with raisins? I look fruit as much as the next guy, but this dried shit will kill you. My sister likes raisins, but she's got issues.

Next, it was time for my daily Winged Migration. Someday I will introduce you to my friend, Duck. He's a gas. Everyday, he needs me to take him on a migration around the domain. Sometimes, he likes to sit in the window, and I need to carry him up onto the couch, up over the lamp, onto the windowsill, and then into his perch on the blinds. Other times, he wants to hide out in the closet or under the credenza.

I love Duck.

Well, I'm bored now.

Vanity, Vanity, All Is Vanity!

So, many people ask a variety of wonderful questions.

"Well, Matthew, what are you going to do with your website?"
"Why do YOU have a website?"
"What kind of website are you going to have?"
ad nausea...

The answers:
I haven't the foggiest (the how or the what)
Because I'm privileged that way, plus I know a great guy who got me online.
Whatever comes to mind, within the limitations of my abilities.

In essence: vanity.

There's no other word to describe why I have this website, or what I am doing with it. I have no business. I offer no service. I'm not really that opinionated, at least in a way that anyone would care to know. When all is said and done, this is merely devoted to the general distribution of information regarding me. Well, only what I want people to know of me.

and speaking of vanity...there is a site devoted to pictures of me! Isn't that great. Not only multiple photos of yours truly, but it's restricted to photos of me at least three whole years younger than I am now. Talk about vanity!

You can visit...ME...or multiple images of ME at www.netjaunt.com/matthew.html

Through the magic of digital images, you will get to see why I am worthy of such vanity. Look at the grooming. Look at the pride and workmanship that went into my daily attire, hair-don't and general appearance. There are those out there who can even attest to a certain vain level of personal hygience not seem since medieval times (and I do mean serfs).

Well, all this vanity is making me hungry. I should go eat something.

Stay tuned...next week...one of the other seven deadlies...maybe greed.


City Nicknames

Once upon a time, I worked for an urban planning firm in San Francisco. While there, working on redevelopmenbt, affordable housing and other industry jargon, I got a crash course in California geography. However, more importantly, I also received an education in the slanderous nicknames often applied to municipalities.

I now live in Chicago. Maybe I'm running in the wrong circles (running in circles being one of my preferred pass-times), but it doesn't seem like people nickname neighborhoods and towns around here.

If anybody has any to suggest (in Illinois, or anywhere else), I would love to try and compile a master list of such things. Please email them to matthew@randamnation.com.

Some of these are pretty lame, but when we are belittling something/someplace else, how often do we (or really I) care about being witty and accurate?

Sacramento - Excremento, Sacramental
Palo Alto - Shallow Alto
Oakland - Smokeland
Berkeley - Berzerkely
Menlo Park - Menless Park
Sunnyvale - Smoggyvale
Petaluma - Pestaluma
Santa Cruz - Santa Crud
Modesto - Mollesto
Hayward - Haywire
Livermore - Littlemore
Colma (City of the Dead) - Coma
Redwood City - Deadwood City
Mendocino - Spendocino
Mill Valley - Spill Valley
Brisbane - Has Been
San Ramone - San Remote
Richmond - Bitchmound
Morgan Hill - Morning Pill
Foster City - Fucker Shitty
Milpitas - Mell's Penis, Deplete Us
Hollywood - Hollyweird
Indio - Windio
Pacific Heights - Specific Whites
Fremont - Speed Haunt

And in Illinois:
Lake Forest - Fake Forest


This is all about Bob, today.

"It's going to be about me, right? I mean, isn't everything?"

That's what Bob said to me as I gushed about my new website. I said sure, placating him.

Once I figure out what i want to do with it, then figure out how to do that with it, and then actually do it with it (which in and of itself sounds...) I can just devote a page or something to bob. He can send his friends a little URL http://randamnation.com/bob.html

It would be so pretty. Not a fan page. Nothing obsessive and creepy. No. Just a little cyber-shrine to selfishness.

Being one to talk, having the rest of the site, and even underlying the not-so-selfish-devoted-to-other-people parts of the site really being all about me. Well...

So how are you?