Bjorn and Torquil will bust a cap in yo ass

Seen driving home yesterday: a green Saab with a license plate frame that read, "South Bay Saab: Keeping it Real." Which is so ludicrous it boggles the mind. Debate all you want about hip-hop's obsession with "Keeping it Real," but I think we can all agree that no rapper in the history of Keeping it Real has done so by driving a Saab. It got me to thinking... what car company is least likely to make an appearance in a rap song?

Obviously, no self-respecting rapper is going to talk about swilling Crystal in a Kia or putting rims on a Pontiac, but those brands arent even trying for the upscale market, so we can disqualify them. Ford, Chevy and Toyota all make SUVs that are popular with the bling crowd, and I vaguely remember an old Wu-Tang song that name-checked a Mazda MPV. Honda and Nissan are contenders, but I submit to you that a Whitest Car Company On Earth contest would result in a two-way tie between Saab and Volvo, with Volkswagon coming in third.

Anyhow, I'm planning a visit to this South Bay Saab dealership, so that I can observe just how the Swedish Keep it Real. I'm imagining some unholy combination of ABBA, vikings, and meatballs. Which seems like an odd way to sell a car, but then again, Saab drivers are an odd bunch to start with and that kind of thing might be right up their alley.

Can you procrastinate from procrastinating?

Apparently so. I have work that needs doing, but I decided to put it off and update the blog. But then I couldn't figure out what to write about, and I put off updating the blog by watching kung fu movies (of which I have a small, but growing collection). Then I realized the point of this is to be somewhat of a brain-drain for me. Thus, I proceed, coherence and narrative convention be damned.

Originally I was going to talk about the wedding I attended in Santa Barbara this last weekend, but that would have turned into a long-winded rant about how much I hate southern California and United Airlines. Instead, I thought I'd sum it up with a few bullet points of unsolicited advice to various parties.

* To United Airlines: it's completely acceptable to tell me that you cancelled my flight because not enough people bought tickets and you would have lost money. I get it. You're a profit-driven enterprise. It might make people angry, but it's better than the alternative you've chosen, mumbling something about "mechanical problems." This does not instill a lot of confidence in the minds of your customers. Also, please refrain from hiring flight attendants who refer to certain routes as "white-knuckle roller coaster rides" in front of passengers. Especially passengers who've had two flights cancelled already due to "mechanical problems." Thank you.

* To southern California: enough already. Pick a spot somewhere in Los Angeles. Declare it to be downtown. Move the important stuff within a 15 to 20 minute walk of this spot. Build lots of mass transit things so people can get there easily. When completely random side streets are choked with traffic at 2:00 in the afternoon on a weekday, this is unacceptable. Now get cracking. I was also thinking of requesting that you ban the wearing of sunglasses indoors, particularly in restaurants, but then I realized that this would make it 5% harder to spot the insufferable, pretentious, name-dropping assholes that flock to your sprawl.

* To all wedding DJs: "Billie Jean" is the greatest dance song of all time. Failure to play this, especially if it's requested, should result in immediate forfeiture of all fees, and possibly prison time. Also, "Play that Funky Music White Boy" is played out. Done. Vastly overrated. A neon sign that lets the whole world know you lack creativity. Third, you should play no more than one song from the Bee Gees or the Saturday Night Fever soundtrack. Disco is, at its core, totally soulless. Play some Motown or Prince instead.

Boy, the bullet points kept that from being overly long. Thank god I kept it under control.

I'm going to end this post by mentioning that there's some sort of YouTube hive-mind out there by which everyone but me instantly becomes aware of all video content the minute it's uploaded. Every time I send someone a link to a video, they curl their lip and sneer, "Dude, I saw that, like, three weeks ago." With this in mind, I have (recently, belatedly) discovered this, and declared it the single greatest YouTube video of all time. I know you, my hypothetical readers, have seen this, like, a dozen times already, dude, but please try and enjoy anyway.

Happily doomed to obscurity

So I have not been filled with pangs of regret or self-loathing over my new blog. Partly because I'm still too tired to care, and partly because nobody's read it. I'd solicit for tips on getting more readers, but since I have no readers, I don't think that'd do much good. And I can hardly picture myself emailing people to advertise what's written here.

I am glad that I didn't delete this first thing in the morning, mostly because it's a pain in the ass to set up. I'm not talking about the technical side; if anything, we've lowered the bar too far in that department and any mouth-breather can broadcast their innermost thoughts to the world (there I go with that snob thing again. Must really try and rein that in). I'm referring instead to the naming of the blog and the whole creation of an online persona that goes with it. I spent at least 30 minutes staring blankly at the screen trying to come up with a name for the blog, as well as myself. I think it's highly important to identify myself with sufficiently hip/edgy/non-cliche cultural references so that my purely hypothetical readers will respect me. I've never blogged before, but I'm under the impression that one doesn't wander online with a blog called "jtimberlake_lover420" and walk away with the admiration of the highbrow crowd.

Hostility. Fueled by boredom, driven by insomnia.

So for the last few weeks I've been bored. Horrifically, unspeakably bored. And when I get bored, I get insomnia thrown in free of charge. Since I like to write, I thought maybe I'd scour Craigslist for an email buddy, preferably one roughly my age who could use complete sentences. Well, it's been a week now. The ad I posted got a few nibbles, consisting mostly of "omg lollllz u rite long emails." And I can't read or respond to that stuff. It makes my head hurt. One person told me, "wow your funny." Yes, my funny. What about it? Is it showing?

Yeah, I sound like a snob. But trying to keep up an email dialog with someone who possesses the spelling and grammar skills of a first-grader is like trying to hold a conversation with someone who's sprouting a second head out of their left shoulder. I suppose it's possible and may even be rewarding, but I can't focus on what they're saying long enough to find out.

Which led me here. The idea is still the same... meet and communicate with people who have a sense of humor and can express that in writing. Kill some time that would otherwise be spent staring at my toenails.

Of course, this could be the internet equivalent of the drunken one-night stand with a crazy girl; I could wake up tomorrow, groggy and dehydrated, check my browser history, and gasp in horror as I realize I've started a blog. Only time will tell.