actuate [ak-choo-eyt] v. 1. to incite or move to action; impel; motivate: actuated by selfish motives 2. to put into action; start a process; turn on: to actuate a machine
Benjamin Banneker (1731), Elijah P. Lovejoy (1802), Ed Wynn (1886), Hedy Lamarr (1914), Sargent Shriver (1915), Choi Hong Hi (1918), Spiro Agnew (1918), Dorothy Dandridge (1923), Carl Sagan (1934), Lou Ferrigno (1951), Sandra “Pepa” Denton (1964), Scarface (1970), David Duval (1971), Big Punisher (1971), Nick Lachey (1973), Joe C. (1974), Sisqó (1978)
Man. It’s been a while so I’ve got copious notes on shit I need to unleash on. Where to start?
In the spirit of getting myself readjusted to this blog at the proper rate, I’ll only offer this today.
Watch the video. Think to yourself, “Is he talking about me?”
If you think he may be describing you, the answer is probably, “Yes.”
If you think he is definitely not describing you, the answer is assuredly, “Yes.”
Now, I know it is just a guy sitting on a couch, venting in an attempt to entertain, but he’s summed it up, people. Whether you realize it or not.
The Age of Entitlement is most definitely upon us. It is evident in absolutely everything everyone of us thinks, says and does every minute of every day.
“Everything is so amazing and no one is happy.” True Story.
You see, you spend a good piece of your life gripping a baseball, and in the end it turns out that it was the other way around all the time. → Jim Bouton
All of us, at one point or another in our lives, will come to a place that truly sucks. It’s inevitable. Some songs can lessen the pain, if you truly want it to. “Wash Away (Reprise)” by Joe Purdy has, from time to time, been one of those songs for me. Use it at your own discretion. And enjoy.
→ For those of you on Facebook who are among the group graced enough to call themselves childless, you’ll probably get a kick out STFU, Parents. Most of you parents will probably like it, too. After all, not all of you are bat-shit crazy. But there are more than a few/dozen of you.
→ To the girl at the bar a few nights back who told me Downtown Owl by Chuck Klosterman was “awful,” I’m happy to report you’re wrong. Which I pretty much assumed was the case after your 15-minute tirade detailing the Elliott Smith–Ben Folds conspiracy I’m sure only exists in the recesses of the crazy-ass world in your head.
→ Lastly, I’d like to thank all of you who’ve sent me emails, asking me to restart this blog. I really appreciate it. I sincerely missed doing it. Also, if this post appears clumsy, I promise you, I’ll get back in the swing of it. After the long break, it was difficult deciding what to include. I’ll work it out. Come back tomorrow for some more.