Ehhhhhhhhhhh better make that friday. Thursday will be big trouble, in addition to my art show. I didn’t have time to make something presentable about it and I assume nobody would see the notice here who could go, anyhow. Really, I “can’t” even go but I have to so that is the way it goes, and how I also go.

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I’ll make a deal with you: I’ll post something new and reminiscent of coherence on Thursday, December 13, and in exchange you can can read it for me afterward.

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It has been strange watching Pokemon go from a laughable fad that anyone could find themselves mysteriously gay for liking to an unreproachable culture source that I’m socially inadequate for not keeping up on the latest full price, buy twice developments of

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I think this is the longest bimshwel has gone without a regular “dated” update since I started giving significance to what level of effort justifies dating one. See, we’re still innovating and cutting edges! Also, “we” is still just me.

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My initial response to lasagna was negative because it did not look like the brown treaded lump in a steel dish from Garfield comics.

why does adding “i’m sorry” to a rejection make it seem like an accusation of insolence more so than a simple no?

Twinkies are like the Peanuts animated specials: nobody who grew up with a choice wants anyhing to do with them.

i get weirder as i get older, but weirdness itself gets normaller

The fraternity you join after getting boiling pasta flung at you: Phi Thetacini

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biiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiig trouble!

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You know, I knew, I can understand liking the limited assortment of complacent, still rerun ehtoons of the recent past and thinking them the epitome of memorable animation. They were at the right place at a right time, maybe they were clever, given the right array of influences, and not everybody is the frustrated, jealous visual artist that I am. The programs often had a captive audience with no standards who would become endeared to the product simply through familiarity before they developed the ability to be disgusted by something they couldn’t put in their mouths. That’s the same/only possible way The Smurfs cartoon got popular a decade prior, and how Disney can financially justify splitting the talking dog movie market that it’s already cornered.

Also, to guarantee credibility, Knockoff 12 cent cgi movie company competitor has produced a sequel to a creepy fish movie that for all I know never existed.

But that song, from the 1990s, TAhhhhhhaaaam to taaaaake uwollll dereeeeee guro da con ba day da! that was NEVER good. even when Kris Kross and The Offspring and MC Rollodonuts were good that was bad. I don’t have any memory associated with it; I have no idea when it appeared. One day it had suddenly always been there and awful, just like Pari Shilton. I’ve never heard anybody complain about the song, because it’s so pathetic and unremarkable that as soon as you’re done suffering through it you forget you heard it. Is it Hooty and the Bowties? is it Pearl Jim? Is it Creeb? Is it some other band that’s so generic that it’s just “band?” (probably not; I’m pretty sure Band made that “deet deet deet deet Olliday ohh olliday” song that was in every ad a year ago). I’ve complained about verses in american songs not mattering and only existing to fill space, but I can’t even remember this song having any. It has that crummy, moany, waking up at 4am with the radio on chorus and then a total memory void.

I was recently reassaulted with the song because the studio art classes at this university like to have terrible radio stations playing during class hours, to increase the challenge, I suppose, since this is COLLEGE and making art would otherwise be too fun to be called work. While hearing it, I started to type this, and the rest is misery.

I needed to know whose song it was, to have a proper, informed scorn about it, and I decided to start my investigation with the Hooty crewty. “Although Hootie & the Blowfish aren’t innovative, they deliver the goods,” says some quote on the wuhkapedia page by somebody who hopes we imagine he knows what he’s talking about. What is “the goods?”

It’s a box filled with undistinguishable trinkets labelled “goods.” It’s the goods for useless radio stations that aren’t allowed to play songs that anybody in the audience might not have heard 300 times already without electing to. They’re like Bacardi and Cola: They get “the job” done with the minimum amount of exertion or people pleased. A perfect match. Perhaps Too perfect…

No it is highly imperfect and thus I am discontent.

I assure you those numbers are very important to the people who maintain this neutral tone shrine.

I thought the song must be “time,” because that’s the only definite word I can make out in it, off the Hootly album “cracked rear view.” The album title does not include “…mirror.” The hootsters got bored with the name before they finished it.

And so, after the first three singles on the album suddenly that one doesn’t have its own wikipitya write-up, which is consistent with my belief that nobody is truly aware what it is because they lose all motivation to live during the length of it. They’re so concerned with dissuading themselves from suicide afterward that they forget most of what they heard. It’s so bad they couldn’t pay attention to the song after it either. Which is probably for the best since that is about drowning. Even participants who willingly purchased the album and have access to the details printed on its materials and believe it is their calling in life to make encyclopedia entries for all commercial properties (for they are notable through having been sold) won’t bother. At best they could read the title and length off of the packaging. It’s almost 5 minutes long, which is 3 minutes longer than such a pathetic song needs to do everything it is going to, which leaves lots of time for repetition and unremarkable instrument solos, so to better create the impression that Time itself has ceased to function.
Even knowing the danger, I had to be sure. For you, I endangered myself. In fact, “Time” is not the song I thought, but a song I’ve never heard before that’s even more mumbly and depressing. However, as I said I’ve never heard it before, which means nobody has by now made it their agenda to force me to, which means I have less of a quarrel with it. Alas, however, my curiosity renews! It won’t kill the cat but it may cause the cat to kill itself. What a scheme!

Yet more later, I deduced that after the word “time” came “to take,” because, it was, and I encouraged the google autocomplete system to provide “her home” after it. “Time to Take Her Home,” is the line, so stuff her in the trunk and don’t do anything suspicious. It serves as a a misattributed title for a song called Big Empty. And indeed it is! The song was caused by some Stone Temple Pilots. A band so bland I forgot IT existed. I knew they were out there, but I assumed they crashed in the Himalayas at some point and were reduced to cannibalism to prolong futile survival of the dominant members. I also didn’t know any of the songs they did. This is no mere phantom song, it is an entire phantom disco-graphy.

I only know Stone Temple Pilots really happened because my old brother told me when I was of 12ish years that I resembled the lead pilot of Stone Temple Pilots and that always stuck in my mind even though I didn’t know what they did apart from fly around in houses of worship constructed from pre-industrial materials. I still thought I liked songs other people liked so I continued to listen to radio stations and would hear promotions like “featuring GREEN DAY and RED HOT CHILI PEPPERS and PURPLE HORSESHOES and STONE TEMPLE PILOTS” but I lacked the presence of mind to inquire about their contribution, which is probably the way they like things.

Appropriately enough, Big Empty is also just under 5 minutes long. That’s just the rule. Rules are very important to classic rock radio stations.

People who bow before “rock” think they’re rebellious FREE SPIRITS but they are just as set in someone else’s nonsensical ways as whatever they claim to be better than. I heard two songs off the same bon jovi album in an hour on this station. Why is there a human being speaking between songs? An aphid could do this job. It’s not even an album I have more bad associations with than good but they probably play those songs every single day. We don’t need naow, thote controwl. Education is thought control but musical indoctrination is STICKING IT to THE MAN [who provides the indoctrination].ha ha we’ll throw in something brih-ish from the 1970s so we’ll seem deep and worldly! They play that song every day, too! People who listen because they want to probably think that song is called “Pink Floyd.” We just brought you some Bon Jovi, Stone Temple Pilots and Pink Floyd. Coming up in the next half hour is that also. Don’t try and implicate me in this! I refuse to we with you!
That same radio has been on in this same art class for 4 weeks or so and I’ve heard “Under Pressure” at least 3 times. I thought it was just somebody’s crummy mix cd, but it’s a real radio station! It’s a slightly longer crummy mix cd with advertisements in it. If this was a mix cd I probably would have heard that song with the whistling by now or “take only what you neeeeed family of treeeees pathetic 3 second shrill synthesizer loops repeated forever that somehow comes up regardless of music imposition method.” That song’s so bad that it has applause dubbed into it so I’ll think I like it.

And we don’t CARE about the old folks! All we care about is TALKING! and WHISTLING! We like noises from mouths because we’re YOUNG and WITH IT. Yet somehow there’s some 40-ish sounding man going on between the songs, as if anything new might possibly have occurred. Although it is my intent not to listen; he might well be a recording also. The entire broadcast day might be a 24 minute loop, like in those grand heft otto games, except I don’t get to express my frustration on imaginary pedestrians who exist solely for that purpose.

And don’t forget “Fireflies,” the eyerollingest song of 2010. I say that rhetorically; I would forget if I could. I can actually hear the rectangular framed glasses and really tiny above-chin beard that looks more like negligent shaving than a deliberate appearance choice. The songs are all NEW but the BAD is all old. Even when the style is different, the typicality and bland formulas and people who don’t get irritated by daily repetition are the same.

anda feeeeeeeeeel-innnn yabbadobbafibbagobbabreebaawmeeplesworth. I think that’s a different band, only because my old brother used to have the album with that song on it and i never heard the other one. This is the same brother that compared me to a stone temple pilot. I wish I had realized at the time that he was trying to train me for this. Then I might have told him how stupid this is and to cancel the whole thing. I permit that song to exist because it tries something strange, but it can be annoying when every male vocalist thinks he needs to use a strained old man voice to be taken seriously and I can’t tell them apart.

Last year I was in this same room with a different teacher, who put on a slightly different radio station. I will attempt to integrate that complaint into this one, because I believe in civil rights.

There are hundreds of thousands of recording artists now and even more throughout the field’s existence. There is no reason this radio station needs to play two John Mayer songs, much less ones I’ve heard before, but that I can’t tell apart until the chorus part, in less than that many hours.

I’m also pretty sure I heard the “i’ll catch a greNADE forya” guy more than once, “when i see your FACE there’s not a THING that i would change, cuz you’re aMAZEing” people complain about Justin Beeper with this sleazephozo on the loose? Yes I’m aware I said the exact same thing there. However, I actually haven’t written that yet! These songs are so awful they are distorting time!

By the radio station’s bragline of the best mitz of the 80s, 90s, and “today” there are thirty two years of junk to choose from. How does “life is a high weight” come up twice? Oh excuse me the second one is an irritating auto-tune remake that is fundamentally the same apart from the singer sounding like a robot that wears a cowboy hat. Don’t remake a song if it’s going to sound the same. Don’t remake a song if it’s going to sound like a totally different song. Don’t remake songs!
According to my needless research, that edition of the song was included in the “game” Lego Rock Band,

which lost a family award to itself, challenged by yet one other version of itself, plus a different game that appeared twice. I’d say it’s not gay folk and single parents that are devaluing the family experience. Here’s how that must work:
We have developed a new media property!
Is it good?
No.
Does it have any conflict or remotely challenging concepts?
No.
Does it have swear words or sex in it?
Sir I assure you it lacks everything.
Does it emulate stuff people could do without $500 worth of video game junk?
Yes.
Does it have lots and lots of sponsorships and corporate branding?
Yes.
Family!

I don’t think even Tetris would make this list, just because there’s a possibility of someone getting mad if the bricks fell too fast.

And now crummy record stores can claim to carry video game music, even if it’s only from games whose music is exclusively comprised of songs off of radio stations.

Wow i could listen to your ads and random song selection at random parts of the day or just buy a 20 year old bad Green Day seedy. Or continue to listen to whatever song I want without any ads ever, which this society pretty much requires everybody to own the technology to do so with anyhow. The promotion on this sign would have been clever in 1992 and perhaps temporarily bearable. The station is proud that it’s been playing the same songs for 20 years. I am not opposed to old songs. I am opposed to assigned, self-satisfied devotion to old songs.
Unlike the trivial new junk, this will not be tossed out after some predefined period. It will linger miserably forever until some band member is accused of having inappropriate relations with children, at which point it will be suspended until that person dies. I am also opposed to hating something just because it is old. I am opposed to doing something just because of something else, apart from mere enjoyment or kindness. I have difficulty believing anyone really enjoys green day consistently, and green day does not appreciate your friendly gesture.

There is inevitable depressing typicality overwhelming my existence in those rooms. On the rare occasion I haven’t heard a song before, I will keep hearing it so that I can no longer make such a claim.
Moderation and subtlety do not exist. Not surprisingly, this school plops out a heaply helping of bland, indistinguishable painters. Maybe all the schools do. Maybe I have wasted the last [number] of years in my life and should have gotten a job and made art in my spare time and not put so much needless anxiety into receiving certification from people who regularly certify bums with no skill or creative ambition. Maybe I just need to remember to bring in my earphones and some adequately charged counter-noise producing object next time.

You may think I exaggerate the incapacitation inflicted on me by noises of typicality that I cannot control, Though I am not physically I harmed, the primary negative affect it has on me is that I write long, meticulous documentation of my irritation instead of finishing my art projects. Being annoyed shifts my priority to how annoyed I am. And if there’s any traffic freport that’s worth a “follow me on twitter,” it wasn’t the one I heard that in.

Imagine a whole city built around radio. In addition to the harm it does me it horrifies young children with its harsh wintry climate that abruptly shifts to warm and tropical below three feet off the ground leading to incongruous clothing choices among women of eerily uniform heights, a baffling distraction that gives the ghost santas just enough time to carry out their abductions without opposition.