The Consumer’s Credit Card Capacity Collapse; R.I.P. U.S. Middle Class Purchasing Power

Tyler Durden on 11/24/2009

The recurring problem: continued massive credit contraction – … After total unused credit card lines peaked at $4.7 trillion in Q2 2008, the number has plunged to $3.5 trillion: a $1.2 trillion evaporation of consumer purchasing power (a contraction of 25%. And,) the actual amount borrowed on credit cards is also declining. …

(The American consumer) accounts for 75% of America’s GDP, and by implication, almost a third of world GDP.

(That is a big sector of the world economy that is deflating.)

Day 1

There was Belle, I felt my saliva glands go into overdrive as she strutted across the hall, her jiggly hips sending thunder claps through the floor and into the bullshit that I was spitting at her.

“Yeah. Barning can’t fucking teach for peanuts.”

In a fit or wittiness, I reply, “You chuck peanuts, you get monkeys.”

I eye the corners of her lips as they trace a smile across her face.

And then comes the kicker that will have me embark on a quest that will revel in revalations.

My tongue drips in expired sugar, “So, have you seen Twilight New Moon yet?”

As I asked Belle that question, I was dragged a hundred miles away from the hall, there was Tyler Durden, Robert Paulson, and there I was in the corner. I was being given reprimanding looks by Senior Durden, and in my hand, he spilled his lye into the palms of my hands.

http://www.ugo.com/therush/images/character_studies/robert-paulson-7/image.jpg

Back to the hallway with Belle; suddenly I want to yank the words that I had said a minute ago. Never should I have had to kneel down to the dogma of a woman in order to attain her favour.

Feminists: Misogynistic much?

Maybe.

Flash forward to the same night. I’m watching Fox’s How I Met Your Mother. A gossamer flap against the lobe of my ear. A roach. I slap it off my neck, take of my shirt to reveal the abs of a Abercrombie model. Too phobic to crush the twitching roach in paper, I drag my vacuum cleaner from miles across to suck in the motherfucker.

I am Robert Paulson bearing bitch tits. I am Jack’s absolute lack of testosterone. In post-millenium America, I am a man. In this era where men’s skinny jeans are acceptable, I am a man. The roach twitches in the garbage as I hesitantly run my hand through my head of hair. Motherfucker, I am not a man.

I am a unit of the single generation raised by women and corporate defined definitions of masculinity.

Day 2

I wake up, twitching like the roach I had killed, castrated from the discoveries of the previous day; I walk myself to One Choice Cut and think of the most masculine way I could wear my hair – I cut it all off.

Coincidentally; it’s the same day I’d scheduled to blaze [light up joints] with a few buddies at lunch break. Boys and girls alike at school recognize an abrupt difference that has come with the cut – I walk with the swagger of a made man, careful to never let my tone rise an octave higher than it should.

As I smoke, as my black friends spit stories of sexual escapades, I feel that hate for misogynism diminsh – if not partially, then absolutely. I feel no pity for the women that was fucked on Marlon’s carpet and was then discarded like pizza torn up by fungi.

If it was possible, I choked on the air in front of me as Senior Durden pitched a seal of approval by passing me the soap to neutralize the acid.

I choke, choke, choke, choke, cough, stutter, spit. As I’m subject to the looks of Marlon and Co. I walk out without any words, a changed man.

Conclusions:

I think that there’s a line that all men must find – a line between the pot smoking misogynist and the Abercrombie model – a line where I am woman’s equal. A path where I would never have to question my masculinity – where I could walk into a room and fucking ooze alpha-masculinity.  The alpha-male opens doors for women out of respect and nothing more.

But! Was the Abercrombie dude a man? Sure he was. Chuck Palahniuk is openly gay. Surely, I wasn’t reading what he was pitching.

My point is to simply know where you stand in regard to your masculinity – dissect everything you thought you knew about what you think is masculine, and pick at what’s left. I assure you, you’ll find something worth treasuring.

If you guys enjoyed this post, google: Disneyfication of Manhood – a complex essay on similar themes.

Have you ever noticed that people try and hide their flaws? Their cracks that reveal the damaged goods. It’s just the proper thing to do – pretend you function like a normal person, pretend the things that have happened to you haven’t ruined you. I do it at times. But I know, just like everyone else knows, that I’m broken. Who isn’t? Why pretend we aren’t when we all are? I’m not saying walk around and showcase all of your problems but to be human is to be broken. No use pretending you’re normal – you aren’t.

What’s got me thinking about being broken is the fact that I broke my wax pencil. Yes, the very tool I use to write affirmations on hard surfaces is broken (fitting for life, isn’t it? The thing that’s meant to build a person up gets wrecked). Worst part is it was my fault. I thought ‘I could write neater if this were smaller.’ So I take out a sharp knife and go about cutting it lengthwise. Of course it cracks into 3 useless pieces. So I’m sitting here, staring at it, and pretty mad at myself for trying something that dumb. The next logical step: try and cover up the breaks. It didn’t happen, it isn’t ruined. Krazy glue to the rescue. Cracks are still there, plain as day. No different with human beings. I’m here, I’ve survived a lot of things, it’s changed it, it’s ruined parts of me. I am broken. I couldn’t care less. It’s a good feeling, oddly enough.

‘I say never be complete. I say stop being perfect.’ Well said, Tyler, well said.

Ok, so I know I’ve been on a bit of Twilight kick lately, but, as I was searching the Interwebs today for inspiration for a post, I came across an article on YourTango.com entitled “7 Book Characters Hotter Than Edward Cullen.” I have to admit that, despite being a literary nerd, I was not familiar with every character on Denise Ngo’s list (hence, I have added Far From the Maddening Crowd, The Picture of Dorian Gray and A Room With a View to my reading list.  Gotta keep up the lit nerd street cred.)  However, there are a few literary characters I can think of whom Ngo did not include on her list, either due to personal preference forgetfulness.  In any event, I now offer you “7 More Book Characters Hotter Than Edward Cullen, According to Kristen Scatton.”

7. Draco Malfoy (the Harry Potter series) – Or really, just about any of the guys from Harry Potter. Despite being a spoiled, arrogant, generally evil little shit, Malfoy has long been my personal preference, maybe because of the way he does scream “bad boy.” (Although I do have a soft spot for the Weasley twins, whom I also think would be great fun to date.) (R.I.P. Fred Weasley, btw.)

6. Tyler Durden (Fight Club) – First of all, this has nothing to do with Brad Pitt, so STFU. It’s Tyler’s confidence, craziness, and extensive knowledge of explosives that lands him at number 6 on this list.

5. Bru (Summer Sisters) – Ok, so as a glorified Harlequin novel, Judy Blume’s 1998 ode to female friendship pretty much had to have a sexy leading man. And maybe Bru wasn’t that desirable of a guy, in the end. But as a teenager, reading Blume’s rather, um, detailed descriptions of Bru awakened feelings in me that I had never felt before. (Why was I reading Summer Sisters at age 14? Where the hell were my parents?)

4. Sal Paradise/Jack Kerouac (On the Road) – Maybe it’s because I’m currently reading Big Sur, but tell me there isn’t something epically romantic about a young, free-spirited poet roaming across the country, sleeping under the stars and getting stoned. And honestly, before he drank himself to death – he was pretty decent:

3. Daniel Cleaver (Bridget Jones’s Diary) – Perhaps what made Bridget Jones so identifiable to so many women (and thus such an enormous success) was the fact that we all understand why she was head-over-heels for her boss, Daniel Cleaver.  He’s charming, cocky and witty with a devil-may-care attitude, and a British accent.  Who wouldn’t want to drop their panties for him?

2. Biff (Lamb: The Gospel According to Biff, Christ’s Childhood Pal) – While lesser-known than some of the other literary giants on this list, Biff is the one character on this list whom I actually wish I could date – funny and loyal, with a potty mouth and a heart of gold.  You just better make damn sure that his friends like you.

1. Rhett Butler (Gone With the Wind) – How can you have any definitive Hot Men of Literature list without Rhett?  He taught every other man on this list what it means to be a smooth, confident GQ motherfucker.  Even stubborn Scarlett O’Hara could only resist his charms for so long.

Ok, ladies and gentleman, now it’s your turn – tell me which literary characters get you hot and bothered!

Una oda a esa nave llamada locura así como a los salvajes y reprimidos deseos por abordarla

Fight Club también pasó por ese fenómeno que le ha ocurrido a otras películas como Blade Runner y que es un producto directo del desarrollo de sistemas caseros de video; mientras que en su salida en cines (sobre todo en Estados Unidos) nunca logró alcanzar el verdadero éxito, fue su versión en DVD la que llegó más lejos y se transformó en una película de culto.

Creo que cada generación y cada década tiene una o dos películas que, a pesar de ser duras y controvertidas, se transforman en el sentir de una época; logran transgredir el ámbito temporal y se transforma en un “must”.

Películas como The Deer Hunter (1978), A Clockwork Orange (1971), The Graduate y la misma Blade Runner que ya ha referido son ejemplos clásicos y creo que Fight Club pudo integrarse a ese selcto grupo.

“Ésta es tu vida y se está acabando minuto a minuto”

Basada en una novela (del mismo nombre) escrita por Chuck Palahniuk, la cinta es un verdadero viaje a través de la locura de ese personaje sin nombre, al que es referido simplemente como El Narrador y su alter ego Tyler Durden.

El Narrador es un simple mortal con un trabajo sencillo que está en pleno proceso de enviar todo al demonio. Un proceso con el que se quiere desligar de la vida del hombre común, de los deseos y necesidades creados por una sociedad consumista y de transformarse en un individuo ajeno a la realidad y en cierta manera encargado de alterarla, modificarla para dar a conocer a otros su filosofía.

El Club de la Pelea, el recinto donde se reúnen los miembros a partirse la cara no es otra cosa que una válvula de escape que no tarda en transformarse en un movimiento anarquista de resistencia.

La primera regla es “no hablar del club” sin embargo la voz se corre con una velocidad brutal y muy pronto son cientos de seguidores; no importa el trasfondo, no importa el rol que se juegue en esta sociedad hipócrita, lo importante es poderse dar de golpes hasta sangrar para así olvidar en una marea de adrenalina los estúpidamente horrible y desalentadora que es la vida.

Si hay una opción y ésta es liarte a golpes y dejar que te rompan la crisma. Mañana será otro día.

Esta semana El Club de la Pelea (como se le llamó en México) cumplió 10 años sin embargo, después de verla otra vez, es fácil darse cuenta que la premisa de la película sigue siendo igual de vigente que hace una década. Como una terrible premonición de lo que ocurriría tan solo tres años después la cinta nos habla de cómo se derrumban las estructuras dentro de una mente y de cómo ésta quiere derrumbar las estructuras que la rodean.

El simple hecho de salir a la calle y provocar un pleito con un perfecto desconocido es una temeridad que solo pueden hacer algunos que más tarde no dudarán en integrarse al proyecyo Mayhem (la palabra significa mutilar a alguien para impedir que pueda defenderse en una pelea o una guerra).

Es difícil seleccionar una escena o secuencia favorita de la película; las actuaciones de Bard Pitt y Edward Norton son magníficas y la forma oscura y expresionista en que está dirigida es una obra magnífica de David Fincher. En lo particular me intriga mucho la escena en que El Narrador se golpea a si mismo para alegar un abuso por parte de su jefe; la secuencia es en cierta manera una de las más grandes ilusiones de muchos asalariados llevada a la realidad.

El final es diabólicamente premonitorio mientras que la trama nos pone a pensar sobre la banalidad de lo que llamamos nuestra verdadera civilización, sobre la profundidad de la cultura televisada pero sobre todo, nos demuestra de manera irónica que, por solo un día, nos gustaría ser ese Taylor Durden que vende jabones a las señoras ricas hechos de su propia grasa  y no teme enfrentarse con los puños limpios a un mafioso o a un camionero que pesa lo doble.

Salio la nueva versión DVD de Fight Club, si no la tienen cómprenla; si no la han vista, véanla y si ya la vieron, vale la pena repetirla. Es un auténtico Clásico Electrónico.

Say, have you people ever heard of that awesome television series: Firefly? You have? Good for you. Did you hear about the truly revolutionary Film based on the TV Series called “Serenity”? You have? Well Okay then. Finally, do you people think Firefly-Serenity was promoted enough? As if, in this point in time, F-S was so underpromoted that the whole franchise really didn’t get the chance it deserved?

If you believe in that crap, then you’re reading the wrong blog post.

The whole F-S cycle is the most overrated excuse for a franchise that has ever been concieved. I avoided the whole thing just based on the hype alone. Then, when I got a chance to watch the whole Firefly series on Hulu, I found out the hard way what a big pile of excrement this thing really was.

My points of contention with the franchise:

1. The Never-ending puke river of Nihilism that permeates the series
2. The Vacuous Backstory
3. The Fake “Realism”
   

First off, the Nihilism. Really? Nihilism? Did I just say that this franchise was nihilistic? You better believe that this franchise is nihilistic. The people behind F-S really go that extra mile to deliver that cheap shot to the cojones type of nihilism I’ve come to despise in things outside of F-S. F-S wears it’s nihilism on it’s sleeve, tattoos it’s chest with it, and drops it’s pants and moons you with it every step of the way.

That nihilism extends to the characters of the franchise also. I’m talking about The Protagonists here. These people are impossible to root for even as Anti-Heroes. Oh Sure, these people engage in light-hearted banter that makes them tolerable for awhile. But on the things that count, these guys are detestable vermin no sane person would want at their side.

As for the Alliance, they really never get enough screen time to evoke any impressions beyond superficial ones, which leads us to the next issue….

F-S has no real backstory! There, I’ve said it. I feel that a great weight has been lifted off of me now that I’ve come to terms with the fact that no back story actually exists for F-S. It would actually violate the creators’ hard-line stance on nihilism to have a backstory of any substance. Oh yeah, there’s the whole “Alliance vs Independents” thing. But that’s only a pretext for this series, NOT A REAL STORY.

The Alliance doesn’t work as a fictional entity because they are depicted in two contradictory ways:

1. As a monolithic “Evil Empire”
2. As a bunch of hapless dipsticks that are convenient victims for Reavers and more mundane forms of piracy.
   

The mention of Alliance personnel as “Hapless dipsticks that are convenient victims for Reavers” sets up my final point: The Fake “Realism”

Ah Yes, if there’s anything that can raise my hackles beyond the Nihilism and Zero-Story content of Firefly-Serenity, it’s the whole attitude towards “telling it like it is”-style arrogance of the show’s creators and it’s fans.

Ok, I’m up for another round of that neverending, stupid debate on “Realism in Science Fiction”. Actually, I’m not. Not because I’m against realism per se, but because I’ll get bogged down in the stupid postmoderism of the show’s creators and fans.

What I’m going to to is to cite 2 examples of the stupidity of this series where it utterly fails by any standard of realism

First example, In the Jaynestown episode, We have a character that is introduced as an archenemy of Jayne Cobb, Stitch Hessian. We first see this character when he is released from a POW-style sweatbox AFTER FOUR YEARS.

He is healthy, whole, and ready to kick ass right out of the box without any kind of REHABILITATION OR MEDICAL CARE WHATSOEVER.

Even by sci-fi standards, this is unforgivably stupid. Boxes like the one Stitch was in are DESIGNED TO BREAK PEOPLE. But by some miracle, the detestable planetary overlord managed to care for a man(who tried to rob him!) in less than ideal conditions. There’s not even any cheap MacGuffin-Medicine included in the plotline to deal with all of this. This story was written by morons, for morons.

Even by postmodern standards, a hellhole POW-style sweatbox does not work wonders for ones’ health. The Firefly series is full of stupid stuff like this.

Now that I’ve handled the physical reality that F-S operates under, it’s time to confront the bogus behavior and fake backstory of Firefly.

Bushwacked is an episode that features two very different antagonists to the Serenity crew. The Reavers and the Alliance. There is only one actual Reaver depicted in the episode. How a person becomes a Reaver is subject to debate(at least, until they introduced that stupid retcon in the Serenity movie which I have not seen, but read about).

Retcons aside, The role the alliance plays here is that of “bunch of victims for the newly minted Reaver”. The F-S franchise has trouble deciding if the alliance constitutes “an Evil Empire” or “a bunch a victims” because of the grossly nihilistic attitudes of the F-S productions.

Yes, here we go with the nihilism again. But in this circumstance, it backfires. There is less exposition given to the creation of the Reavers than there is to the creatures in a third-rate zombie movie. The Firefly-Serenity series is so nihilistic that the very idea of storytelling is an exercise in pointless stupidity.

All that’s left here, when you look carefully at it, is a stupid “Vietnam Trip-wire Veteran” story combined with the imagery of the Hellraiser movies.

It fails to entertain, or enlighten, or anything else positive. Nor was it ever intended to.

Ok, so you’re asking: “What was it intended for?” Here’s your answer: To intimidate, to humiliate, and to keep you off balance.

Apparently, you people in the audience out there are a bunch of grain-fed Sheeple who need to get kicked in the ass at every opportunity. Yes, the creators of the Firefly series and the Serenity movie have total contempt for their audience. In this episode, they throw around blood and guts in a vain effort to get people to take them and the show seriously.

Now that I’ve covered all of that unreality, it’s time to confront the heavy-handed moralizing that also constitutes the “realism” of the F-S franchise.

In the closing minutes of the “Jaynestown” episode, we’re treated to a conversation between Mal Reynolds and Jayne Cobb:

Jayne Cobb: Don’t make no sense… What, Why the hell that muther have to go and do that for Mal? jumping in front of that shotgun blast. Hell, there weren’t a one of them that understood what happened out there, that(sic) probably sticking that statue right back up.

Mal Reynolds: Most like(ly)

JC: I don’t know why it eats at me so

MR: It’s my estimation that every man who ever got a statue made of him was one kind sumbitch or another. It ain’t about you Jayne, it’s about what they need.

JC: Don’t make no sense.

This exchange is so out-of-character with the previous behavior of the characters that it sticks out like a sore thumb. They really don’t seem like the type of people who would be concerned about the fate of a bunch of strangers. In the final analysis, this scene was contrived to make a cheap, nihilistic point about how all people who get statues made in their likeness are total bastards. WHICH FLAT-OUT CONTRADICTS JAYNE COBB’S INTROSPECTION AT THE END OF THIS EPISODE.

How did a Nihilistic, Brain-dead, cheap-shot infested series like Firefly ever get a huge fanbase? I used to think that the “Fans” were mere astroturfers. However, the truth is more vile than even I could have imagined.

What I am about to suggest is so bizarre, that even I have trouble believing it. But it rings true

James Randi(AKA The Amazing Randi) wrote on page 99 of his 1989 book: The Faith Healers

(Joseph)Barnhart suggested a scenario that I have come to accept–though with some difficulty–because it satisfies all the evidence and it has been confirmed by my subsequent investigations.

He contends that the faith-healing service functions as a significant drama for those who attend. This explains their willingness to believe what others see as obvious delusions. He says we cannot divide the participants into “audience” and “Performers.” The entire auditoriium becomes a huge stage, with both the preachers and the believers taking part in the drama. A careful observer notices that almost everything in the drama leads up to the climax, the long-anticipated healing scene. It is a ritual of major magical importance to the participants.

Barnhart points out that the afflicted person wants to get close to this magic. By pretending–earnestly–and by refusing to entertain any doubt, on his or her part or on behalf of another, the subject maintains and reinforces the myth that all of the actors have agreed to believe in, for their own reasons. The faith-healing service is a sort of mutually accepted morality play that is participated in without doubt or hesitation, for fear of breaking the spell.

The above gimmick is used in other fields besides faith-healing. While the average Firefly-Serenity “fan” believes themselves superior to your average inbred faith-healer, they engage in exactly the same techniques and attitude depicted in the Randi book excerpt.

Stripped of all religious-healing influences, The Fake Audience Trick consists of:

• A general “reality is made by FAKING SHIT REALLY HARD” attitude.
• Shouting down any criticism.
• Presenting yourself as more: Serious, Hardcore, Spiritual, Moral , Ect. than anyone else.
• Presenting the subject matter as more :Serious, Hardcore, Spiritual, Moral, Ect. than anything else in the field.
• hanging on the the absurd belief that something positive can come from all of this stupidity.
  

This is the foundation of all religion, politics, publicly-traded companies, pyramid schemes, marketing, and Firefly-Serenity Fandom.

Oh yeah, I almost forgot to mention an important part of the trick:

• Make up excuses (or scapegoats) to explain away your failures.(Which there will be a lot of)

Firefly Fans have as their scapegoat-excuse: “Firefly-Serenity wasn’t promoted enough”. This is inaccurate. Firefly(and Serenity) was promoted, stoked up, hyped, and finally shoved in the face of a public that didn’t want anything to do with it.

More than one person has commented on the messed-up, retarded, abrasive and painful nature of witnessing Firefly fandom. Outlaw Vern commented on Firefly fandom in his review of the Serenity movie:

I consider myself a brave man but more than once I found myself eyeing the fire exit. I was planning my escape and it wouldn’t have been a daring one like in the movie, it would’ve been more like when Old Dirty Bastard fled the hospital without checking out.

Inside the theater was worse. There was a singalong of a folk song about the characters. There was people trying to talk in space cowboy talk.

Ho boy, this isn’t like Trek or Wars fandom. This is entirely different. They seem to be trying too hard. Vern has encountered some weirdos in his time.(See his Chaos(2005) DVD review). But he seemed genuinely scared at the Serenity viewing.

This all seems like a Viral Marketing project that mutated into a cult.(Think “Xenu” but without the laughs)

How did all of this come about? I’ve got a pretty good idea, but you’ll have to take my notions about nihilism and the 1990s-2000s seriously to understand it.

To understand Firefly fandom you have to go back to the 1990s, The Nihilistic Nineties. Did I mention that I hated the 1990s?(and to a lesser extent, the 2000s). If I didn’t, let me state right here: I HATED THE 1990S. I hate the 90s so much, I won’t bother to explain why. Instead, I’ll let Greg Stacy, of the OC Weekly, articulate his attitude toward the 1990s, which happens to coincide with mine:

Besides, that’s a time most of us are happy to forget. Who the hell gets nostalgic for the LA riots, grunge or O.J. hysteria? It was one of the most volatile yet paradoxically least interesting times in our nation’s history. I remember long nights searching the radio for anything listenable; eventually I’d grow so bored with the rap and metal I’d end up stuck with Art Bell’s loony conspiracy theories. It’s an experience (GTA)San Andreas re-creates with depressing accuracy, right down to a so-so Art Bell parody.

–Pop! Culture
Getting lost on the streets of San Andreas, December 23, 2004

That rhetorical question about “Who the hell gets nostalgic for the LA riots, grunge or O.J. hysteria?” has to be answered here. Since this is a blog post about Firefly-Serenity and its fans, the answer should be obvious. F-S fans are vile, nihilistic types who think that the planet Earth reached cultural Satori in the period between The LA Riots and the publication of the novel Fight Club by Chuck Palahniuk in 1996.

But the influence nowadays on F-S fandom isn’t so much “Tyler Durden” anymore but “The Joker from the movie The Dark Knight (2008)”. Just like The Joker only wanted to burn the world, so do the F-S fans want to burn the very idea of fandom. Having failed in their putrid efforts to astroturf the success of the whole Firefly-Serenity cycle, they are going to make lots of noise and burn the internet with their behavior.

Worse, these clowns manage to get the whole F-S franchise attention it doesn’t really deserve.

But let’s get back to the substance of the Firefly series and the Serenity movie. Oh that’s right, THERE IS NO SUBSTANCE IN THE F-S FRANCHISE.

Ironically, The Evil Megacorporation depicted in the Alien Movies has a sunnier take on humanity than the protagonists of Firefly. The white-hot nihilism of the 1990s has turned into the cold ashes of the 2Ks. With the approach of the new decade, I’m going to do everything I can to burn the nihilists. I’m going it alone, and no hypester is going to have any fun in the future. Most importantly, “Hardcore” is going to be the joke of the 2010s.

Welcome to Baruch at Ultimi Barbarorum.*  In this post, Baruch revisits the alleged, insider trading of 3Com options, casting doubt as to whether the calls were bought by persons with inside information prior to the takeover. More likely, scared shorts were trying to hedge their positions. – Ilene

$1.3 million lost in blatant but failed attempt at insider trading?

Courtesy of Ultimi Barbarorum

The blogosphere made the catch! The Interweb protects the rest of us from evil doers! The world is ablaze with the news that prior to the 3Com buyout announced by HP last week, there was an unusual amount of volume in the $5 november call in 3Com. We’re all pretty sensitised to insider trading at the moment, and so this looks as clear cut and beautiful a case of  evil-doers caught with their hands in the till as we are likely to see in our time on earth. As Tyler Durden puts it:

This is so blatant it is sufficiently stupid that even the SEC will presumably catch the perpetrator. Here’s to hoping the trader ends up being Galleon’s Raj Raj buying options from his E-Trade account while on bail. Of course, we fully expect any prosecution case against the perpetrator to fall apart at the seams courtesy of a completely inept legal team at the SEC and the Justice Department.

Oh really? Before the Zero Hedge folks get the pitchforks out, let’s stop and think a bit. Let us be splitters, and not lumpers, and we might see that would be quite reasonable for the SEC and DoJ not to prosecute anyone at all. Using the principle of Occam’s Razor, they may well tend to conclude that no insider trading took place.

Let’s get technical here. Do forgive Baruch if you get lost (because it may be that you’re not actually all that bright and that’s not his fault). In the case of the unusual volume in the 3Com options, you should know that incredibly unusual volumes in options is not terribly unusual, if you follow me. It is in fact the case that the volume of a particular option resides, as Taleb would have it, in Extremistan. It is subject to many many days of low and limited trading, and very few days of extremely high volume, orders of magnitude above the norm, where most of the total volume traded in the life of the option takes place.  This occurs most notably in the final month of the option’s life. This is so because people are more likely to buy a particular option when its intrinsic value (the portion of the option price described by the difference of the strike and underlying prices and its volatility) is highest in proportion to its time value and its total value. This is when you get the most “bang for your buck”, as Baruch puts it — roughly 2 weeks before expiry, the option is in its prime, near its most efficient for hedging and speculative purposes.

That’s what people use options for, mostly. Hedging, and speculating. Options are excellent as a way of profiting moderately, or reducing losses, in conditions of risk and uncertainty. As a way of playing a dead cert, however, options are pretty crap. Had someone concrete knowledge of the 3Com deal, it would be far more efficient to buy the stock. The most important of the “Greeks”, as options dudes call the panoply of statistics surrounding options, is “delta”, the rate of change in the value of the option relative to the value of the shares (it’s a function of volatility, time to expiry, a whole lot of stuff, don’t trouble your head), and this is always less than one. 3Com options buyers made far less money on the takeover by buying options than they would if they had bought the stock.

Assume the 4,000 Novs and the same in Dec calls that day came from a single buyer. S/he bought an economic interest in 800,000 COMS underlying. Purchased at 65c and 85c, both calls popped post the announcement to $2.50. Hooray, a profit of $1.4m. But trading the underlying, buying at $5.611 would have given $1.52m profit. The other thing favouring the underlying as the vessel for insider speculation was that it was so much more liquid than the options. Buying 800,000 COMS would have been a drop in the lake of the volume that day, which saw 22m shares change hands. It would also have been much, much less conspicuous, and we wouldn’t be talking about them. These were pretty stupid inside traders, clearly, who not just left money on the table by playing the options, but drew extra attention to themselves by doing so.

Though of course, if you want to insist on the inside trading thesis, you can always posit insiders with limited funds who couldn’t afford 800k underlying shares. So the DoJ in its inquiries should be able to exclude institutional investors. Or at least competent ones. But come on; is it the simplest explanation? Or is it actually a stretch?

Perhaps it was insider trading. But we have to posit incompetent and poor insiders. The easiest explanation for the COMS trade is that shorts, not long insiders betting on a takeover, got spooked and decided to hedge. 10m shares of COMS were shorted at the end of October. Rumours fly about all the time, and 3Com has been known to be a takeover target since like forever. A 20% to 50% gap move in a big short can seriously spoil your day, if not your year, and a call position is an excellent way to hedge, to take the sting out, to make an existential 50% loss into, say, a merely unpleasant 10% one. When COMS has cancelled a roadshow, you’re seeing weirdly high volumes and a breakout, it’s actually pretty prudent to hedge a bit against a takeover.  

This sort of thing, moreover, happens all the time. Just this Friday, PALM November $12.50 option volume went through the roof; never mind a measly 4,000 contracts, they traded 21,000 on the day. The occasion was the the ridiculous suggestion assiduously spread, no doubt, by inscrupulous holders eager to get out with some honour, that Nokia would be taking them over that weekend. The volume can probably be explained by the fact that PALM is probably the most shorted tech stock around at the moment. It would have been evidence of insider trading, of course, had there been an actual takeover at the end of it, and no doubt we would all be tut-tutting about the state of the markets today and how it’s all stacked against the little guy.

As it is, there wasn’t. At least there hasn’t been yet. And the owners of the options, who bought at 65c (they last traded at 23c) have until friday for the takeover to happen, after which the options will expire worthless, with PALM at its current price. That will be $1.3m down the tubes. If that was money for speculation, it would have been painful for all but the biggest fund. If it was merely shorts paying up for insurance against getting their faces ripped off it would be more than bearable. You tend not, after all, really want your hedge to be making you money.

“To speculate,” the prophet said, “is human. But to hedge is divine.” the game is not just stacked against the little guy, it’s stacked against everyone. At least the little guy probably has a day job. It’s not wrong to be aware of what is probably widespread insider trading in stockmarkets today. But it’s probably very important to aim for the real evil-doers, the ones who pay executives to get the quarter, who know exactly what the company is going to print to the decimal point. Over-excited accusations that may get innocent hedgers into hot water don’t help anyone to make the game fairer.

****

*Ultimi Barbarorum is a tribute to the great philosopher Baruch Spinoza.  From the about page:

Ultimi barbarorum is difficult to translate; English lacks a proper vocative case. We can best think of it as “O ultimate barbarians,” or “you are the greatest of barbarians”.

So, I am “Baruch”, and my dear collaborator is “Bento”. We find it hard to be so calm when confronted with the illiberal barbarities that crop up so frequently in our political, social, economic and religious life today. This is why we have started Ultimibarbarorum.com. We need a venue to rant. Like Spinoza, here we take our stand. This is our online placard. We say No More! We will expose you, horrible Barbarians. No-one is likely to care, but we will feel better about it afterwards. This is Baruch’s and Bento’s promise.

We also intend to use the site to explore Spinoza’s philosophy and ideas, and relate them to our times…

Read more here.

In our course ‘Culture and Media Studies’ our assignment for this Monday (16/11) was to “Write an analysis of [an] image/video in which you define the concept (e.g. bricolage, counter-bricolage, appropriation or re-appropiation) and how the chosen image is an example of it.

First of all, for those of you who don’t know what any of these terms mean, here’s a quick run-through:
Bricolage: In (very) short it’s an equivalent to DIY. The term is used in a a lot of different subjects, but the main idea is “making do” with what you have at hand, finding alternative uses for it and giving it a new meaning, thus making it your own. Mainly this is used for commodities (safety-pins for punk rockers or layered clothes of different styles) but it can also be used in more abstract ways. MacGyver is the master of bricolage.
Counter-bricolage: When commercial forces use bricolage in a way that is meant to make the product cooler and appeal to an audience. Ripped jeans are a good example.
Appropriation: When you borrow, steal or in some other way use others’ works and use them to create a new, oppostional meaning, different than the one the original was aiming at. This is achieved through juxtapositions and changing of contexts in which the work is used/shown. Examples: iRaq, Yes We Can
Re-appropriation: When mainstream commercial forces, governments, corporations etc. appropriate the works of  oppositional forces, subcultures and countercultures to sell and market coolness (often removing the strong political message in the process).

Since we didn’t need to include all of the concepts I chose to focus on re-appropriation. My examples are these:

re:member ad

I guess you could say it’s just one example since both images are taken from the same campaign, but let’s not care about that.

There are several interesting things to consider while looking at these examples. The first, and also most obvious one, being the re-appropriation of the Fight Club monologue which I’ll include below. That monologue reads as follows:

“You are not your job
You are not how much you have in the bank.
You are not the contents of your wallet.
You are not your fucking Khakis.
You are not a beautiful and unique snowflake.
You are the all-singing all-dancing crap of the world.”

The appropriation is more subtle than stealing the monologue word by word. Rather, it works on a level of form and execution. The phrasing is the same in the TV ad as in the original monologue and, provided that you’ve seen (or read) Fight Club, you cannot possibly miss the reference to the film. The words that have been changed are however crucial. This may seem like a no-brainer but I would still like to stress that the things the narrator points out in the ad are very much aimed at an audience likely to want a credit card: the watch, the golf-club membership, the caffe latte, the car, shirt, shoes, sunglasses and tailored suit (as opposed to the “fucking khakis” in the original monologue). It is, of course, also no coincidence that there is no mention whatsoever of money in the ad whereas in the original monologue both the contents of the wallet and the money in the bank are mentioned. To say say that one is not the contents of your wallet may have made sense since it’s a credit card being marketed, but saying that someone is not how much they have in the bank would be suicide.

Secondly; by playing with the monologue in Fight Club to market a credit card it seems that an amusing contradiction is overlooked (or maybe deliberately made invisible): At the end of Fight Club the narrator stands on one of the higher floors in a skyscraper watching the buildings of credit card giants being blown up by his own hands and the financial system as we know it crumble with them. I should however point out that this goes only for the movie version of Fight Club and not the book where instead the bombs  never go off and the narrator shoots himself in the head. Using a reference to a story so deeply critical of credit card companies and the ideologies, institutions and politics creating and supporting them could be seen as risky and unnecessary, but I would rather see it as understandable and essential. By using this reference the ad actively diminishes the importance of that message and tries to remove the dangerous aspect of a world view that Fight Club could foster.
There is a clear connection here between the theory of re-appropriation and that of recuperation created by situationist Guy Debord. Recuperation is more of a sociological theory, but just like with re-appropriation the issue is the process in which radical messages are made into commodities and “safe” objects of mainstream society. Recuperation in this sense can be seen as a more active part of the ongoing class-struggle than re-appropriation.

Thirdly, I would like to point out the ad seen on the billboard. Context cannot be overstated here. The fact that the message “you are not the car you drive” can be seen while driving adds an extra dimension to the message. The consumer is expected to participate, but be aware that what he/she is participating in is a spectacle. The radical message has become a joke to be ironically aware of and concerned about while at the same time ignoring it.

Finally, here’s a video of one of the versions (it’s a recurring piece that changes as the movie goes on) of the original monologue in the film :

Tonight we witnessed a watershed event in financial blogging, and it concerns The Case of Who Front-Ran the 3Com Takeover.

By now, the only people out there still trying to use options contracts to profit from inside information are the brain-dead and the citizens of non-extradition countries.  As is well known, I am a huge proponent of the financial blogosphere and this evening’s 3Com options bust just gave me goosebumps.

The story is this:

At 4pm, shares of telco equipment company 3Com (COMS) were halted followed by the announcement of an acquisition by Hewlett-Packard at a 40% premium.  The financial blogosphere sprang into action, immediately pointing out that today’s trading volume in 3Com’s options was triple its 4-week daily average.  Options are the weapon of choice for the inside information crook as they give you the most bang for your buck on a near-term jump in a stock.

OptionMonster.com’s Jon Najarian picked this 3Com options activity up, probably first, and posted the below via Twitter:

(click image to embiggen)

From OptionMonster.com

Najarian’s revelation was immediately followed by separate but equally incisive comments from some of the biggest and most influential market commentators out there.  None of this was coordinated by a producer at CNBC nor was it orchestrated by the editorial staff at the Wall Street Journal.

Rather, it was an organic meme that spread around the financial web by means of Twitter, WordPress, Blogspot and Typepad.

The mainstream media picked up on this insider trading angle only AFTER the bloggers nailed it, at least from what I’ve seen based on the times of the articles and posts.

Now we don’t know for sure whether or not illegal activity took place, but if it quacks like a duck…

Congratulations to Jon Najarian of OptionMonster.com, Tyler Durden of Zero Hedge, Andrew Ross Sorkin of DealBook and Karl Denninger of Market-Ticker.

UPDATE: Reader MarketAddict informs me that:

OptionRadar on StockTwits tweeted the unusual call volume during the day today:

http://twitter.com/OptionRadar/status/5623636484

Ladies and Gentlemen of the stock market, I give you your new citizen-regulators.

Here are the referenced links:

Najarian’s TwitPic (TwitPic)

1.5 Million in Blatant Insider Trading Activity (Zero Hedge)

Whispers About 3Com  (DealBook)

Blatant Insider Call Buying (Market-Ticker)

Ok, had an issue so let’s write this again. I love all the recent media about Fight Club because of the anniversary. This is one of the best movies and I forget how much I truly love it and how when I watch it I start to view the world differently. But it really does have a lot of good life lessons to take away from it, summed up in helpful one line quotes.

‘ This is your life and it’s ending one minute at a time.’

‘The things you own end up owning you.’

‘It’s only after you’ve lost everything that you’re free to do anything.’

‘Losing all hope was freedom.’

‘You’re not your job. You’re not how much money you have in the bank. You’re not the car you drive. You’re not the contents of your wallet. You’re not your effing khakis. You are the all-singing, all-dancing crap of the world.’

‘I say never be complete. I say stop being perfect.’

And I must say that only after I realized really what ‘all singing, all dancing crap of the world’ meant is when I truly loved that statement (for the record all-singing, all-dancing means really advanced which would mean that even for all of our advancements we’re still basically nothing or as one site put it “You are very modern and technically advanced, but you still do not amount to much.”).

People have such issues with themselves, dont they? All of their feeble attempts to amount to so much and to make better versions of themselves. What’s that line…’Self-improvement is masturbation. Now self-destruction…’ People are building themselves on the wrong foundation. This movie reminds me of that. Makes me want to be zen even more so.

So anyway those are just some of my favorite lines. I cant decide my all time favorite…Do you have one? Ah, but why ask when you guys dont comment. I need social contact too, ya know. That’s where you come in…or maybe I just need to create an alter ego to keep me company O_o.

I’ve written on the deficiencies of women’s dating advice before, but never have I ever come across something so flat-out retarded and deluded as this post at College Candy entitled “I Got Game. You Want Game?“:

I’m gonna make a bold statement right now:

I got some serious game.

Are you married or in a long-term relationship? Then no, you don’t have game.

I know that sounds incredibly cocky, but it’s actually quite the opposite. You see, until about two years ago I was the girl who sat on the sidelines and watched as all my friends flirted with and won over the very boys I wanted for myself. I was essentially the hook-up water boy, holding everyone’s cocktails when they went to the bathroom and checking to make sure no one had anything in their teeth.  I accepted my role and went on with my life thinking I wasn’t pretty or skinny or perfect enough to be seen as anything more than the girl best friend.

If this broad was being ignored, there are three possible reasons:

1) She’s too hot, meaning guys, who are usually looking for a sure thing, stuck to hitting on her Plain Jane girlfriends.

2) She’s too ugly, possessing the sort of hideousness that would require a barrel of Keystone Light piss water to get a guy interested.

3) She was making herself too inaccessible in relation to her looks. Hint: playing hard to get doesn’t work unless you’re super fine, and even then its utility is questionable at best.

But then something happened. I had a one-night stand with a boy who everyone wanted and – like that – everything changed.

My god, you got a cock in your snatch for one whole night? I am so…unimpressed.

I started walking with a little swagger in my step, approaching anyone and everyone I wanted and suddenly I had developed my game winning moves.

A woman being proud of getting laid is like an alcoholic proud of getting drunk.

So, after luring in my own men and playing professional wingman to all of my friends (I advise them on making a move and they pay me back with vodka-on-the-rocks), someone who has benefited from my work countless times finally convinced me to share my secrets with the world. If you can master these few little tips, you can win over any guy, any time.

Unless your advice begins and ends with something along the lines of “walk up to him and force your tongue into his mouth,” it’s not going to help anyone.

[Now, just so you know, playing the game isn't just for ladies looking for some late night nookie. It's for those of you crushing on a guy and looking for something longer term, too.]

A college chick gets a horny dude to lay pipe to her for one night and she thinks she’s qualified to give relationship advice? Man, she’s got more chutzpah then Ellen Fein.

To begin with, I just want to say that no one is going to fall in love with you if you don’t show them there’s something to love. And I’m not talking about your nipples, honey. I’m talking about your confidence. If you sit back or do the wallflower thing, you will not lure in the hottie from Chem. But if you do whatever it is you do that makes you feel really good/hot/confident (for me it’s black eyeliner, straight hair and a great pair of jeans) and approach a guy with ease, he will be like putty in your hands.

What was that nine-letter word that describes women to a tee, as exemplified in the above paragraph…oh right, solipsism. Unlike you specimens of the female race, we men do not find confidence in and of itself attractive. We generally prefer you to be somewhat confident, if only because it means you’ll know well enough not to bother us when you shouldn’t – like when we’re hanging out with the guys, playing video games, or sequestered away in the Mancave writing the next great American novel – but it doesn’t give us erections, and it doesn’t make existing erections harder. When guys see you wearing “black eyeliner, straight hair and a great pair of jeans,” they’re not attracted to any confidence you might have, they’re attracted to your cute face, pert boobs, and rockin’ butt.

Yeah, you have to approach him. Or you could wait for him to notice you in your group of 12 friends, think of a way to bust open the circle you guys are standing in and come up with something to say to you. Seriously, just think of something witty and walk over there.

This only works if the guy is already attracted to you. Warpigs and other fuglies need not apply. For elaboration, here’s a post from 11minutes explaining a fundamental difference in how sexual attraction works for men and women:

As stage two put it – a woman posing a provocative question is not just sassy. It is a magic weapon. The man can be Brad Pitt in person – if he falters, reacts emotionally or even just in the socially accepted (expected) way to her test, she will lose attraction. The result is that women can turn any attractive member of the opposite sex into an unattractive person in an instant. It is like turning a hot 9 into an ugly fat chick with the snap of a finger.

For women, attraction is like a thermometer (think PUA terms like “buying temperature“). For men, attraction is like an on-off switch. Shoving yourself onto a guy will get you banged, but it won’t be because he respects your ballsiness, it’s because he’s a horny bugger and you’re offering yourself up as a sacrifice to his dick.

Ok, so you’re standing next to him. Now what do you say?
I have a few tried-and-true lines that get the conversation flowing every. single. time.

- “Whatcha drinkin?” – Easiest line in the book. (Hm, maybe I should write a book!) He’ll tell you, he’ll ask you what you’re drinking, you’ll start some conversation about how the bar always waters down their drinks, soon your drinks will be empty and he’ll be buying you a new one. Boom.

- [Squeeze in next to him at the bar while you battle for drinks] “I think we should work together. How about you try and lure the girl bartender and I’ll use my cleavage to try and get the dude.” Not only are you being cute and openly flirty, but you got him to notice your sex appeal without really asking for it. Plus, teamwork always fosters flirtation and witty banter will follow. I promise you that.

- Bring up something relevant. So, if he’s standing against the wall at a party, say something cute like, “You know the party is more fun if you actually talk to people.” If he’s on the dance floor gettin’ his groove on, compliment his moves. If you run into him at the party store, comment on what he’s buying and ask him where the party’s at. Yes, it all seems cheesy, but these lines get the convo started without making you look dumb/desperate/cliche.

Here’s a better idea – just say you want him to fuck you. Since he’s already attracted to you and you’ve already done the hard work of approaching for him, what you say is utterly meaningless. Unless you seriously repulse him in some way (like mentioning how many STDs you have), you will be going home with him that night.

And that is that. All you need is a little self-love, a few witty lines (which, by the way, I use over and over again. The guys won’t know how many times you’ve tried them before!) and you’re good to go.

“The guys” don’t give a shit about your “pickup lines.” All they care about is whether your breasts are real and if you do anal.

Once you try these out a few times you’ll see how easy picking up a guy can be.

Of course it’s easy, you stupid twat – the normal order of things is that “males display and females choose.” What you’re proposing is that the lamb should knock on the lion’s front door, saving him the trouble of the chase.

Just don’t spit this game in any bar or party I frequent. That’s my territory, ladies.

Actually, ladies, you should “spit this game” everywhere you go. If all of you did this stuff, I and other dudes could get our nuts busted by just walking out the front door. Every man a player!

The sort of thinking on display in this article just amuses the mother-loving crap out of me. Here we have a young woman so utterly clueless about how the other half thinks that she believes that the mere act of getting a penis in her vagina is a great accomplishment. To paraphrase Tyler Durden, she tries to seduce men by being confident and aggressive, as if she was seducing a CHICK. Too bad she doesn’t know that men are fundamentally unchoosy and will stick their dicks in just about anything warm and wet, and that all she’s doing is making it easier for guys to get pussy. Which is cool with me, but bad for the girls who get suckered in by this nonsense.

No, honey, the ability to get a man to fuck you is not “game.” Getting said man to stick around and fall in love after fucking you is. For female readers interested in the latter, you know where to go.

The Forward-Angled Face

Å Holde hodet fremoverlent (haka mot brøstet, og bakhodet vendt opp mot himmelen) ser sexy ut.

Det hjelper også i sexual state og hvis du vil skape sexual tension.

Eksempler:

Tanke nummer 2, er en genial musikkvideo!

Ansiktsutrykkene til Q-tip (han som rapper mest) er helt geniale. Den smoothe stemmen, langsomme rytmen og avslappede følelsen er akkurat slik state jeg elsker å være i når jeg gamer:

Fight Club er blant favorittfilmer til de fleste. For de andre som ikke har skjønt hva som er greia med filmen, så er det egentlig ikke slåssingen, halvnaken Brad Pitt og scenen der Edward Norton lager en kjøttkake av ansiktet til Jared Leto som er hovedpoenget, nei. Det er ideologien bak filmen som drar filmen til topps.

De viktigste problemene adressert av filmen er consumerism, tro på at hver av oss er guds eneste og mest elskede skapning, og selve faktum at vi prøver å leve etter et alt for organisert system og prøver å kontrollere våres liv til enhver tid. Men den tanken som jeg finner veldig interessant for meg er selve kontroversen mellom filmens idé og filmen i seg selv.

Tyler Durden har blitt et forbilde på hvordan en mann skal se ut, bevege seg, snakke, reagere, osv., selv om det var det motsatte av hva Tyler Durden mener i filmen selv. “Is that what a real man is supposed to look like?” – sagt av Brad Pitt, som er en av verdens mest metroseksuelle menn. Men er Tyler Durden bare et flashy image med en sneip i mellom tenner og blåveisen, eller noe mer? Vi ser på lerretet og vi har lyst å bli som han, vi tenker at vi kunne virkelig sprenge hele verden til helvete for og spre demoktratiet til folket. Ta verden til det økonomiske nullpunktet, ødelegge alt som er skapt… – men hver enkel av oss har jo bare den samme tanken som filmen ga oss, blir ikke det så ganske ironisk?

Nordmenn har janteloven i blod – vi tenker på demokrati og store problemer, vi tenker på å spise sunt og tenker på miljøet, vi sender penger til Afrika og støtter Palestina og Tibet, vi er ditt og vi er datt. Samtidig er vi også blant verdens største oljenasjoner og har våre “fredsstyrker” i både Afghanistan og Irak, og sunnheten våres er bare en trend vi har, på like måte som helgefylla. Noe å tenke på, ikke det?

Men det har også en annen side. Tyler Durden’s metode var å ødelegge alt vi har, ofre det, for å skape en verden som blir “riktig”. Og i en annen film, “Dark Knight”, Heath Ledger’s figur The Jocker har svært mange referanser til Tyler Durden, i både karisma og i metoder han bruker. Men de fleste av oss anser Jocker som en skurk og psykopat, selv om de fleste av oss ville uten tvil støtte Tyler Durden. Blir ikke det litt rart?

The future you have tomorrow won’t be the same future you had yesterday.

This isn’t quite the follow up to Fight Club_book vs. movie that I promised a few weeks ago.  Instead of reading Chuck Palahnuik’s Choke and then immediately watching the movie, I read the book and then immediately picked up another of his novels.  The thing is, I watch so little of television and so rarely rent movies that it could be years, and I seriously mean years, before I sit down and watch the damn movie and this blog must go on.

So, like I said, I kept on reading and, with the recommendation of a friend, I picked up Rant.  Now, I was really hesitant to give the book a shot.  Before sitting down to reread Fight Club and Choke, I glanced online at what Palahnuik’s written since and the quick reviews I saw left me with low expectations.  But, to make a long story short, I picked up the book anyway and I couldn’t put it town.  In no way was I expecting to enjoy this novel as much as I did and, in fact, this may be my favorite of Palahnuik’s novels.

So what’s so great about it?  Once again, many of Palahnuik’s trademarks are present (note: I called these clichés in the previous post but that seems too harsh since these are things I enjoy in his work.)  As I’ve pointed out before, each of Palahnuik’s novels (that I’ve read) has a Tyler Durden-like character.  Each of them, throughout the course of the book, becomes an almost mythological character.

Fight Club has, of course, Tyler Durden.  Survivor has Tender Brandson.  Choke has Victor’s mother.  And even Lullaby has the character Oyster but, admittedly, he is never propped up as high as the others.  These are the characters we love and/or hate.  These are the characters that change the way we look at the world.  Rant is no different.  Rant has Rant Casey.

Another of Palahnuik’s trademarks: the structure.  Rant, like most of his novels, starts at the end of the story and works it’s way back to the beginning but Palahnuik is so good at how he does this, and how he sets up his plot twists, that it never gets old.  It just hooks you that much more.  And as for those plot twists, there’s a great one in Rant.  It’s so far out in left field that I had no idea it was coming, nor have any idea where it came from.  It’s the kind of crazy crap that I can only hope to include one day in my own writing.

The other great thing about this novel: the format.  The entire story is presented as an oral biography.  So instead of your traditional first-person narrative, we’re presented with numerous characters all discussing and sharing their stories of Rant Casey.  Some of the stories conflict and some of them don’t quite add up but it all makes for an enjoyable, mind-blowing read. Palahniuk took a big chance experimenting with this format.  It’s radically different than his previous novels, and, if done wrong, could have made for a terribly boring piece of literature.  But, fortunately, Palahniuk nailed it.

So, there you have it.  My thoughts on Rant.  Man, just writing about the novel makes me want to read it again…

Rant

La semana pasada, el 15 de octubre para ser exactos, se cumplieron 10 años del estreno de una de mis películas favoritas: Fight Club.

Este post no se tratará acerca de por qué me gusta, o como fue mi primera vez de ella o algo. No. Lo que me interesa contar es lo que sucedió, a grandes y sin aburridos rasgos, ayer con un par de mis profesores.

Seguramente lo que leerán aquí no es algo nuevo, y menos aún si estudian conmigo, en la misma escuela. Pero en serio, que mal que haya personas tan jodidamente pretenciosas e incoherentes, y peor aún cuando se habla acerca de ejercer acciones laborales. No tiene caso que ponga nombres o diga quienes son, porque probablemente ya saben de quienes hablo.

Sí, ya me quedó claro que la época en que vivimos está cabrona y que diario nos despertamos sólo para sobrevivir a partir de superar y humillar a la gente con la que nos encontramos en el camino… Como sea. Me siento muy maduro como para ser parte y pensar de una forma tan fea como esa. Me caga. Yo tengo mi propio camino que seguir y sé que llegaré a mis metas. Y afortunadamente, me ha funcionado y sigue funcionando.

No necesito que un par de personas según, con más experiencia y mayores que yo, vengan y me digan que no tengo su apoyo o que no moverán palancas por mí o que no será sencillo el futuro en cualquier aspecto. Al inicio, el escuchar consejos o anécdotas era interesante, incluso divertido. Pero ya me hartó. Ya me la sé, aunque no lo crean.

Ni creo en dios o eso, pero sí creo en una fuerza que no podemos ver pero que está ahí. Según yo, esa fuerza proviene sólo y exclusivamente de nuestro interior. Tan sencillo como decir que sí quieres algo, cualquier cosa, te debes de esforzar, no importa si parace imposibler. Y ya. No hay mucha ciencia en eso. El número de logros que he alcanzado hasta ahora con esa estrategia es bastante alto. Pero carajo, que bien se siente escuchar que las personas me digan que no podré hacer esto, o que nunca lograré aquello, etc. Porque siempre, tengo que ver su jeta cuando ya se dieron cuenta que ya lo hice o lo logré. Ese es un bonus extra después de haber logrado mi cometido.

Y después del enojo de ayer, provocado entre la mierda verbal de los profesores, cosas que debes de saber por que usas (se me hace bien pendejo no saber como reproducir un video en tu propia computadora, y más aún cuando dice “nosotros hicimos esos comerciales”) y los “te quiero coger pero no te lo digo directamente”, me sentí muy bien. Porque de nuevo, me llegó esa tranquilidad de saber que estoy haciendo lo correcto y que, aunque sea de una forma, ya soy mejor que ellos. Idiotas que carecen de argumentos racionales.

En fin, volviendo a Fight Club y entrando al debate político de futuros post, les dejo este fragmento del guión de la película. Es la postura ante uno de los más repulsivos logros que el capitalismo ha logrado: el odio a uno mismo a partir de la ganancia injusta e inmerecida de los demás.

INT. LOU’S TAVERN – BASEMENT – NIGHT

LOUD. An enormous CROWD of guys, including Jack and Bob, stands around Tyler, who’s in the center of the circle, holding up his hands to quiet them…

TYLER

I look around… I look around and

see a lot of new faces.

An enthusiastic RUMBLE from the crowd.

TYLER

Shut up! Which means a lot of you

have been breaking the first two

rules of fight club.

A glum silence falls. Guys look at each other.

TYLER

I see in fight club the strongest and

smartest men who have ever lived –

an entire generation pumping gas and

waiting tables; or they’re slaves

with white collars.

(more)

TYLER (cont)

Advertisements have them chasing cars

and clothes, working jobs they hate

so they can buy shit they don’t need.

We are the middle children of

history, with no purpose or place.

We have no great war, or great

depression. The great war is a

spiritual war. The great depression

is our lives. We were raised by

television to believe that we’d be

millionaires and movie gods and rock

stars — but we won’t. And we’re

learning that fact. And we’re very,

very pissed-off.

As of late I’ve started to get the feeling that I need/want less things. It’s a good feeling really.

As Tyler Durden said in the movie “Fight Club”, “The things you own end up owning you”. I don’t want that.

I’m going to start getting rid of things (or give them away) if I have no use for them. Why have 10 spares of something? Why have all this neat stuff just to look at? Why have stuff at all? If it’s not a tool to help me do something, or a thing to sleep in or sit on, or something to help me prepare or store food and water, what do I need it for? It occurs to me that we seem to work to get stuff and then need places to put stuff. Why?

Why are people hoarders? I don’t mean the people that have like hoarders disease or anything either. I mean why do people in general collect things or trinkets or anything? Why do people collect baseball cards, or pocket knives (like me) or anything for that matter?

I have enough pocket knives to last probably five lifetimes. I don’t need but one or maybe two.

This is a good read regarding minimalism. <——-clicky clicky

We all need to give up the pursuit of things.

10 años del estreno de Fight Club.

Mi encuentro con Fight Club fue a los 12 años, estaba entrando a la secundaria, mi padre la rento… al terminar de verla me queria pelar con todo mundo, mostrarme realmente si me conocía y si era verdad lo que pensaba Tyler, a los cinco minutos me di cuenta que me estaba volviendo uno de esos tontos borregos del proyecto Mayhem.

La verdad esa película me impacto mucho, tanto que sigo buscando los lentes, la ropa de Tyler. La verdad esa película cambio mi forma de pensar a la larga, pero no de la manera de madrearme con todo mundo sino que no debemos dejar que eso ocurra, no debemos dejar que la sociedad eclipse tan agresivamente, tan deprimente, y se debe de ser libre sin depender de cosas materiales, al menos eso entendí yo de Fight Club, 10 años y sigue siendo la mejor película para mi…

Gentlemen… welcome to Fight Club.

The first rule of Fight Club is: you do not talk about Fight Club.

The second rule of Fight Club is: you DO NOT talk about Fight Club!

Third rule of Fight Club: if someone yells “stop!”, goes limp, or taps out, the fight is over.

Fourth rule: only two guys to a fight.

Fifth rule: one fight at a time, fellas.

Sixth rule: No shirt, no shoes.

Seventh rule: Fights will go on as long as they have to.

And the eighth and final rule: if this is your first time at Fight Club, you have to fight.