Prologue: Part II

Scotch here in IHQ. The second half of the prologue follows this communique. It's also worth noting that one of our contacts will be introducing I-Crew to Boise, ID. Follow @hyattch on twitter to track the recruiting process.

Before I sign off, I would also like to say thank you for reading, and thank you for keeping an open mind. If the Cryions had their way, we'd all be listening to Miley Cyrus and acting like The Situation. Also, Chapter One begins at IHQ's next update, until then, enjoy the last half of the prologue! Scotch, out.

END TRANSMISSION
Encrypted transmission follows

Dawes Residence
Akron, Ohio
June 6, 2003
19:45 EST


“Owen, hurry up! You’re going to be late!” Martine Dawes yelled up the stairs. “Your father and I want to get a picture of you before you go!”

“Martine, ease up on the boy. He’s going as fast as he needs to. Plaza’s only ten minutes away, it’s not as if he’s going to Timbuktu. Hell, I wouldn’t be surprised if Owen didn’t go at all” Roger Dawes told his wife.

Owen’s parents were good people, though they frequently annoyed the crap out of him. Roger was the founder of an extremely popular alternative weekly newspaper in the African-American community. Many people regarded him with respect, owing to his charming personality, his square cut jaw and the slight cleft in his chin, and the fact that in his forty-five years of life he never compromised his beliefs, even against stiff opposition. He looked intimidating with his broad shoulders and standing six foot and an inch, but not overly so.

Martine was satisfied with freelance photography when not teaching kindergarten, while her husband stayed at home and looked after the paper. She was a buxom woman, a real June Cleaver in all senses of the term. During the summer while Roger worked, she more or less ran the house, having decided that once she left the Akron police department that all she wanted to do was put her feet up, and every so often enjoy a mint julep or two. Sometimes, because they were so externally personable and genuine, people thought that they were two working schmoes who had moved to North Hill in Akron straight from Normalville Kansas, 1955. In reality, he had moved from the heart of the ghettos of Atlanta, she had moved from Greenwich, Connecticut with the spoon still in her mouth, and both of them were loaded in their own right. Both loved their only son deeply, though they were relatively overprotective, and when he came home yesterday they were both concerned about his emotional state. Though the hurt was an emotional one, one best suited for a mother’s touch, it was Roger’s words that had put Owen’s mind at ease.

As Owen put on his jacket, and made his way to his bedroom door, striding towards the inevitable encounter with his apparent ex-girlfriend, he remembered what his father had told him two years earlier while going through the sophomore year transition.

Son, you’re sixteen now, I think it‘s now time for us to speak like men. This whole deal is just that high school bullshit. When you guys get to college and see that the high school games don’t work, people’ll see just how bad they got owned in high school. And if that doesn’t help, at least there’s the cheap and petty feeling that you know that when they finally figure this out, you’ll be able say “’Bout time y‘all came up.”

That was the first time that his dad had ever revealed that side of his personality, the hidden rogue in him, and it had encouraged Owen to stand up tall and be his own man, regardless of the societal pressure placed upon young men his age. He just had to be damned careful not to show that side to his mother.

“Very nice! That’s very nice!” Mrs. Dawes told her son.

“Mom, it’s just a shirt and khakis.”

“But still, you look good in them!”

“Lord, give me strength.” Owen said under his breath.

“Martie, you keep smothering him like that and he’ll really be late.”

“Okay Owen, be careful and be back by midnight.”

“Midnight? Are you kidding me?”

“I'm inclined to agree, Martie.”

She cocked a brow and looked at her husband like he'd lost his mind.

“And what would you consider reasonable?” she asked the two gentlemen standing around her.

“Two-thirty.” Owen said.

“Try again.” Roger said.

“Two?”

“One.” Martine said.

“One-thirty?”

Roger and Martine looked at each other for a moment.

“Done.” Martine said. “Just be careful.”

“I will, Mom.” Owen said, opening the front door. “Love you guys.” And with a nod of Mr. Dawes’ head, Owen shut the door.

Owen opened his door, turned the car over and turned on his radio. With a frown, he tuned away from 92.3 FM. Ever since they went oldies, then death metal, they hadn’t been the same. He tuned to 96.5, the new home for what used to be Hot 101 and quickly changed away from Jessie Griffin’s newest pop hit. 98.1 was playing Tina Aquila’s song about some sort of bottle he didn’t give a damn about, and listening to Raven 100 would still be sacrilege after the unceremonious firing of their most popular and competent on-air talent.

God...hell with this.

He turned on his CD player. He thought he’d never be glad to be listening to 4 Unabridged’s three year old version of eurotechno. Swinging the car onto North Main Street, he looked back toward his house, head bopping along to the beat, wind flowing smoothly around his head.

I hope to Christ that this party’s gonna be worth it. Owen thought. He cruised along the High Level Bridge, unaware that six miles above him, hurtling rapidly down at twice the speed of sound, ahead of him would be the last object he would see.

He heard and felt the concussion of the sonic boom pass over him.

What the fu-

He was suddenly shoved violently to the side by the force of the heat and pressure caused by the slipstream of the passing object. He looked up to see a smooth, gun metal gray behemoth passing over and just ahead of him. He mercifully blacked out after it had cleared him, so he didn't see the object dropping through the sky only to plow into the bridge a scant fifty feet ahead of him, nor was he aware of the car beginning its descent into the Cuyahoga Valley.

The HQ Is Back in Business!

For those of you just joining the game, welcome to Instigator's HQ! My name is Owen, callsign Scotch and you're here because you want to tell the truth about the state of pop culture and society, even if it means arrest!

After a brief hiatus, we have received new mission orders from Goliath: Release The Instigator's Manifesto, the story of how IHQ was created, on the web! So I will be posting all 133,000+ words on here in sections, beginning with the prologue below. Enjoy, and remember, this is a work of fiction, partially based in reality.

PROLOGUE
Wallace High School
Cuyahoga Falls, Ohio
June 6, 2003
1430 EST
Owen Dawes’ stride was long and deliberate as he walked into the parking lot. He yanked
his car door open and sank in a huff into the driver’s seat. He shut the door of his blue Ford
Taurus and put on his seat belt. He took a moment to look at himself in the mirror. He cleared his brown eyes of debris, ran his hand over his short black hair, taking care to notice the feeling of short bristle in the wake of a fresh haircut, and ran his thumb and forefinger around his goatee to make sure there was nothing in it. His facial composure more or less regained, he now adjusted the mirror so he could see through the window behind him and placed the key in the ignition.

“Owen, wait!” a voice from behind him called in a pleading tone.

A good fifty feet away, Mariel Scott ran towards the car, dirty blonde hair flowing behind
her.

Jesus Christ. Now what the hell else do I have to deal with?

Mariel sat next to him in English class during their junior year at Wallace High. Like
every other guy in the school, he'd had a major crush on her. To be totally fair, it was more of an
infatuation, as she had the body of a Barbie doll, without necessarily having the mental attributes of one. He hadn’t said anything about it to her because there wasnabsolutely no realistic chance in holy hell that the homecoming queen, head cheerleader and all around most popular person in the school would be bothered to even approach the most average looking person in the class.

He wasn’t an athlete by any means, sticking mainly with tech crew and other liberal arts
extracurriculars. He didn’t have a flashy car, wore glasses and certainly was not ripped and cut
like most of the other senior guys. Her friends spent their time at concerts, shopping and
partying. His spent their free time reading, writing, and getting together at Susan’s Coffee and
Tea. Naturally, he had asked himself just what lucky star he'd been born under when she walked up to him in the middle of the Commons and asked him out the last day before Christmas vacation. He'd asked her if someone had put her up to it. Her response was pulling him around the corner and Frenching him. His response was getting ridiculously wasted with his friends in anticipation of the Rapture, which would be pretty pleasant as watching the original Peanuts ice skating in on their little frozen pond in Hell to Vince Guaraldi's theme music was getting boring.

“Can we at least talk about it?” Mariel asked.

Owen pressed the switch that activated the power windows

“Look Owen, it’s not you. It’s me.” Mariel started, leaning through the passenger side
window.

At least have the balls to not start with that old chestnut.

“I just feel like we drifted apart recently.”

“Right, I mean the play started up and I was hanging out more with the tech crew and you
were hanging with the other seven-eighths of the school. It was bound to happen eventually, high school social structures and all.”

“Look, Mitch was around a lot and-“

“And you were still in shock from falling into Mitch's lap that your mouth was still open, yeah, okay.”

“That’s not fair.” Mariel whimpered, a tear forming in the corner of her eye.

“No it’s not. What’s fair is at least telling me where I stood. It doesn’t matter anymore,
really. Look, I’ve got to get home.”

“Will you at least come to Jordan’s party tomorrow? He booked out the Plaza.”

“Jordan‘s throwing a party in a hotel? Well I‘ll be sure to show up to that.” Owen said in
a sarcastic tone.

“Really? You’ll come?”

At that precise moment a mousy looking kid opened the front passenger door and
climbed into the front seat, seemingly oblivious to the teen drama unfolding.

“Ready to rock?” Shawn Greene asked.

“Excellent timing, my friend.” Owen replied. Turning back to Mariel he said, “We’ll
see.” and started the car. He put the car in reverse then said, “but don’t hold your breath”
Owen released the brake, Mariel took a step back and just like that, Owen was speeding
down Wyaga Pond Drive, and out of her life. The worst thing about it was that she knew he was
right.

“You deserve better.” Shawn said. Shawn was an average looking white kid. His brown
hair, overly polite mannerisms and mature mindset made him seem at least five years senior to
his seventeen year old self.

‘I know, right? Who the hell dumps a guy for no other reason than to maintain social
status and then tries to rationalize it?”

“Bleach blondes.”

“Power daters.”

“Don’t forget sorostitutes-in-training” Shawn added.

“Of course!”

Owen turned his mp3 player on, filling the car with the sounds of Stacy Mallory and
Gerideau.

''God, I could seriously use a mocha and a biscotti.”

“So, where am I dropping you today?”

“At home. My mom wants me to sign for some package she's getting today.”

“Not another one of those liberal anarchy survivalist deals.”

“Nah, nah, nothing that bad. I think it's Aunt Rose's yearly summer cookbook.”

“Oh jeez. When's she gonna learn that no one in your family are vegans.”

"We'll give her until Thanksgiving. One more tofurky and someone's gonna have to say
something.”

All of a sudden, Owen slammed his hand against the steering wheel and yelled “Damn
it!”

“Don't worry man,” Shawn said, commiserating with his friend “You'll get over her soon
enough.”

“You know me, I'm already done. I told her upfront, take me for me, and not as some
social whatever, and we're kosher. She screwed me, I'll learn for next time. What I'm pissed
about is how this kind of crap's the norm.”

“What do you mean”

"When, in all of your years of school, has who's dating or sleeping with who been crucial
information?”

“Other than high school?'

“Including high school”

“Never”

“There you go.”

“Yeah man. It's bollocksed up.”

“Ain't that the truth.”


END TRANSMISSION
auth code EAVB_FUKWEFTMAH

How to Call a Spade a Spade (or Generalization 101)

I have loads of discussions with people, and more often than not we'll get on he topic of modern society and pop culture and then I start saying truths about shows, about people. The number one response to these truths: You can't generalize or stereotype."

First of all, let's get our terms straight, because like irony, most people don't get it. The Dictionary.com definition of generalization is the act or process of generalizing. a result of this process; a general statement, idea, or principle, whereas stereotype is defined as a simplified and standardized conception or image invested with special meaning and held in common by members of a group.

For those who don't see the difference still, I'll boil it down to one word: intent. I'm a descriptive learner, so I'll paint a pretty picture, using white people (only for ease of clarity, I promise!). Take the statement 'Generally speaking white people are either brunettes or blondes.' This is a generalization that can be interpreted in several similar and correct ways. By number, there are more brunettes and blondes than anything else, which is true. By instance, you're more likely to see a brunette or a blonde, which is also true, by virtue of, and independent of the previous point. In the observer's experiences, they've seen more brunettes and blondes than anything else. These are quantifiable facts.

Stereotypes are generalizations with intent. Rich young white women are stuck up, conceited, easy, skanky ass fame whore bitches. By number, this is not (necessarily) true, in my observing experience this is not (quite) true, so it can't be a legit generalization, but because every time I turn on my TV and see those kind of women, I can make that claim, knowing it's a stereotype. I know most white people, to say nothing of rich ones, don't (necessarily) act (quite) like that, but if I want to take a shot at them that's what I'd say.

So the next time I take a shot at Paris Hilton types ask yourself a question: How many of these Paris Hilton types are there. If your answer is along the lines of 'more than enough' then shut the hell up. You no longer have an excuse for your ignorance.

Techno Hypocrisy

For the last twenty years techno music has been a means to an end. 808s, 909s, synths and all the other familiar sounds have sold everything from action films to educational kiddie toys. You can't go to a professional sports arena without hearing a techno song. So why is it when I ask people their thoughts on techno music they say either that they don't like it, or that nobody listens to it? I think it's because they're grossly ignorant, but let's look at some examples

When I was young and in college, I would go to the bar and look through the Touch Tunes jukebox. After about always walk away disappointed at the lack of current techno, if they had any at all, or bad and old techno from good artists. If I could find something current and good, and played it, the deebies and sorostitutes with them would be all 'What the fuck's this gay shit?' Now when I go to the bar, I can't so much as spit without hearing 'I Gotta Feeling' or fucking Lady Gaga or David Guetta being a turncoat sell-out bastard, and what's worse, they're actively shitting on proper electro

Speaking of college and douchebags, if techno was a religion and DJs could be patron saints, Saint Bob Sinclar (or Christopher whatever the hell his last name is) would be the patron saint of douchbaggery, asshattery, Abercrombie and fraternities.

Compilation CDs are a total cop out. Dance Nation commercials have been on TV for God knows how long, to say nothing of the Ultra Dance series. I would include NOW, but since they have always been about bubblegum pop with those few 'acceptable' songs (Rockerfella Skank, South Side etc) they actually get the free pass because their bullshit is nothing new. Either way, if you're going to do a techno album, compilation or otherwise, at least have the front to call it what it is.

And speaking of front, what pisses me off above all is the front 'rap culture' has. I say 'rap culture' because apparently it's cool for allegedly hard white people to act like they were actively discriminated against, but that's for another topic. For the late 90s and early 2000s rap consistently rejected techno out of hand, insisting on making their own beats as they had since the 80s, which I can't blame them for. They even went so far to say that techno isn't real music, and then there was that ridiculous beef between Eminem and Moby, pre-sell out days. Then Kanye West drops 'Stronger' and I needed to find a weapon

For those who don' t already know, 'Stronger' is little more than Kanye rapping over a rearrangement of the main hook and chorus from Daft Punk's 'Harder, Better, Faster, Stronger', which dropped six years prior. This practice is called sampling, it's been around forever, and as longs as you give credit to the artists, and you respect the track by not fucking it up, I'm fine. Kanye won the Grammy, and did the right thing by Daft Punk, bringing them to the show to make the beat live. Great move by Kanye, but unfortunately, he flashed the Batsignal for the new trend of putting techno hooks in your track.

Pitbull is the most flagrant example. He took Nicola Fasano vs. Pat Rich's "75, Brazil Street" made NO changes to it, and just rapped over the top, messing up the title of the track as he covers himself. Ne-Yo and Usher songs by definition are house songs. I don't give a fuck what you kiddies screaming "It's R&B" at the top of your lungs say or scream, you're wrong, do your musical homework starting with the blues section.

If music were a religion, I'd have a fatwa on T.I. It's one thing to shamelessly rip Crystal Waters' "Gypsy Woman". That track, while still the tip, as evidenced by the host of recent clones and imitators, is twenty years old. I can understand it being sampled to death, but not in the way T.I. did it. Musically it worked, but the purpose he use it for was ludicrous. Song is diametrically opposed to the life T.I was talking about, let alone the actual beat, but I can live with that. What I can't live with is his taking O-zone's "Dragostea Din Tei" (the motherfucking Numa Numa song) with Riahanna on the half yodels, putting a beat on it and calling himself hard. First, any use of the Numa Numa song outsideof techno makes you lame and second, fuck you T.I. for even having the idea. Besides, what happened to techno not being music, or being fake or lame?

I'm musically equivalent to or ahead of the curve. Sounds grandiose, I know, but I don't claim to be consciously aware of it most of the time, but it's not as if I didn't know or see this coming. If you look at it, Two Door Cinema Club and other similar bands have artistic roots as far back as 1998 with bands like Capitol K (their hit song 'Pillow' was the background music for the first generation of 'priceless' MasterCard commercials, specifically the one where they college boy goes to Europe), which I picked up on in 2001-2002. I kind of sort of called the play on electro back in '05 when I went on a pretty large Late Night Alumni/Annie/Daybehavior bender, the former two I jumped on when they dropped, thank you Kaskade. Electro as fuck, evoking thoughts of New Order, Depeche Mode and OMD.

Here's a fun fact: I've never really sat down and took the time to listen to Depeche Mode, though I've heard of them most of my life.

Eridani

The crown jewel of the Eridani system burned against the blackness of space. 40 Eridani A shone a brilliant red-orange as it rotated happily in the Auriga constellation. It was a type K, an average aging star along the main sequence, smaller and cooler than Sol. It hiccuped, kicking a stream of high energy plasma away from it in a flash of light so bright that the Kongai starcruiser T'fari's main optical systems overloaded seven light-minutes away, forcing a course change to turn away from the flare.

Sixteen years later, a new light surrounded both the flare and the star, without warning and without wavering in intensity. The controller at the Eridani starport looked down at his console when the amber alert lights started flashing. Three power spikes in rapid succession flashed on his EM sensors. The first one was the T'fari's shields going up. The second was the biggest energy wave he'd ever seen in his sixty-two years of service. The third, not surprisingly, was the T'fari's jump engines coming online, a yellow jump point into hyperspace forming twenty-thousand tezlov off their port bow.

He stood, looking up and out of the viewport. A bright speck of light winked into existence and began growing larger and brighter, larger and ever brighter. In a remarkably detached, deadpan tone of voice, he communicated the only thought in his mind to open space as the entire station was immersed in the pure, white light of the approaching wave.

“Not again.”

He sat in his chair and checked his readings one more time. Confirming the imminent
arrival of the wave, he looked up, and for one brief moment, just as the T'fari's jump point closed into a twinkle of light, it seemed to him that the universe itself gave him the cosmic equivalent of the wink and the gun. Then, the jump point, the station, the planet, the entire Eridani system improbably disappeared without trace.

Only three living souls saw what used to be a decent getaway within five jumps of all the major tourist areas in the sector, be replaced by a satellite map of the city of Akron. They all walked in the room at the same time.

American Idol Is a Sham

A few thoughts on American Idol:

Only two of them remain relevant, namely Kelly Clarkson (the first) and Carrie Underwood (the country girl that's nice to look at)

No one gives a damn about the male contestants

You know you're getting a raw shake from the name of the show. They're not looking for singers, they're looking for Idols.

As long as you make the top ten you're guaranteed a deal

How is it that that there are no representatives of the record industry on the show, let alone be one of the judges. Thee closest thing up there was Randy Jackson, a producer. Where's the A & R guys, or the record execs themselves?

Understanding they're looking for pop singers, why is it, aside from Carrie Underwood, barely, there's absolutely no diversity except for on racial lines? White Idols sing like Britney and Justin, the black Idols like Beyonce and Usher.

Ellen DeGeneres? Don't get me wrong, I like Ellen. I've liked Ellen since 'These Friends of Mine"
(yeah bitches, I straight went old school on your asses) but since when is she a credible authority on music? Show me an Ellen EP or a Grammy that's not for comedy and I'll shut up

I won't get into the unoriginality of it except to say I've got two words for you: Star Search.

You ever notice how they like to humiliate people? Again granted that people knew what they were getting into, but then again if you sucked that bad and no one told you, then they put it on TV, how would you feel? I'm surprised no one's killed themselves over that.

Have they considered a format change? Or at the very least, a raising of the bar talent wise. Oh wait, that'll never happen because IT'S REALITY TV

The Myspace Angle (aka Happy Valentine's Day)

I get the fact that people are self conscious. I understand people want to look good at all times, in all situations. I can even understand the idiotic tendencies both genders have to modifying themselves to look more attractive than they normally would be. But ladies and gentlemen, in this digital age where there's more than one picture of you on the web, there's really no such thing as 'your best face'. Enter the myspace angle.

The myspace angle is a technique of photography, made popular on myspace, by which not-so attractive women make themselves look more attractive my taking a picture that generally only features head, neck, boobs and maybe some leg action. The pictures are self-shot, generally using the one armed 'party' shot position, but can also happen in the bathroom using a mirror.

The visual mechanics are simple. When men look at pictures of women, they only look at faces, tits, legs and asses. As such, the faces are heavily made up, mask like even. The boobs are visible in either a low cut shirt, a tight fitting shirt for the curve, or with bra only. The legs, if visible, are shaved, and you never really see much of them.

Now if you're astute, you already know where I'm going with this. If not, first realize this is a generalization based on observed situations, and second, I challenge you to prove me wrong. The people most likely to use this angle are bigger women. Defining 'big', because according to Hollywood, big is a size four, big means blatantly outright fat. Not obese, but just fat. Not muscular heavy, not 'thick' but straight up fat (there'll be a blog post about size soon, I promise you). They use it for the obvious reasons, and for the obvious reasons, it will work., but here's my overriding points:

First, guys on the web know the myspace angle as soon as it's presented to them. Second, guys who are total n00bs can recognize he myspace angle immediately. Third, unless the only profile pictures of you are of the myspace angle, guys are going to figure out your true size. Fourth, if all your profile pictures are myspace angled, then it's as sure as telling someone your true size.

Now for some tips: Ladies, stop abusing the shot. I realize the full on shot isn't always desired, but Jesus Christ, it's like loading an Uzi with silver bullets. Sooner or later, you'll have a useless weapon. Be loud, be proud. If the guys can't handle it, fuck 'em, they're not worth it. I'm not saying that it's a free pass to be a slobby as humanly possible, but for the sake if nothing else, your health, at the very least, take care of yourselves. Guys have to do the same, it's a two way street.
Gentlemen: I know what I'm about to do is like shouting at a brick wall, but stop being so damned image obsessed. Women are not our playthings, they are not to be molded into what we want. Take them as they are or don't put them through unnecessary grief. Here's something else that you don't want to hear, we're responsible for the myspace angle. The douchebags amongst us have forced women to find creative ways to be noticed when they don't have to. For serious gentlemen, they're boobs, we'll fondle them, and it's a warm vagina, we'll put our pee pees into them. It's a matter of degrees after that and the spacing is ludicrous.

So with that, happy Valentine's Day. Spread the love to everyone, just don't get her pregnant, and don't give him/her lasting marks for work tomorrow.

A Call to Arms for the MTV Generation

In 1980, a dream was born. Edgy music oriented programming for the not to0 youth set, the heartbeat of a generation. Thirty years later, that dream died a long, drawn out, suffering death at the hands of a feckless network, and a board of directors who only care about hooking the kiddies up with total crap to get a shot at that jingle jangle in their pockets. Well that dog won't hunt, monsignor. It's time to get strapped and ready for war

It's time, ladies and gentleman. MTV is no more, what the hell are we waiting for?! It's time to grab them by the throat and make sure if the music is going to die, we do our level best to kill the network dead. Stop watching MTV, if you haven't already. Get your younger siblings, nieces nephews, sons, daughters, grand, hell great-grandsons and daughters off the teat of evil. What little music left to be had that was MTV supported (yeah, I'm talkin about you, Clutch) stop listening to them. Stop buying their records, their CDs, their mp3s. (I would say it's okay to steal their music, but I'd rather not support them at all). Hit their advertisers. Whatever the hell this Jamster crap is, kill it.

It sounds grandiose, because it is. The odds are long and hard, but for musical freedom, for pop cultural freedom, to simply be able to look at ourselves in the mirror, we can't just idly sit by. We may not be able to kill the network itself, but we can damned sure hurt them where it counts: the wallet, and once we do that, we'll have them by the balls.

Now officially Instigators HQ, Scotch, Goliath, no one in I-Crew is telling you to run out and get explosives and whatnot, but it's time to burn this bitch down

A Declaration of War Against MTV

Last month in this blog, I composed an open letter to Tony DiSanto, MTV's President of Programming in which I addressed politely how MTV has strayed from its roots and that its programming was an absolute betrayal of everything it stood for. I know he didn't read it, because at the moment five people other than me reads this thing, the point is, I had written all this down last month for all to see

And then this happened: MTV Orders Two Extreme Stunt Reality Series followed by MTV's Big Change

That was the last straw. I'm officially DECLARING WAR on MTV

First, I'd like to say I'm glad to see they changed their logo. It'll be much easier to attack the bastards by speculating what their new tagline is going to be now that they totally can't front music anything.

Now, let's proceed to ripping DiSanto a new asshole by illustrating just how moronic a move this is. DiSanto has ordered two new 'extreme stunt' shows. Dudesons in America being run by Jukka Dudeson and Johnny Knoxville. The other, MTV's Parkour Challenge is essentially a gigantic free running course a la Casino Royale.

I can work with Parkour Challenge, I dare say it wouldn't be interesting to watch for a couple of minutes, but has anybody noticed anything familiar about Dudesons in America? You should. The Dudesons were first featured as one of the guest dumbasses on Viva La Bam. Bam Margera was a guest dumbass on the appropriately named Jackass. Get it? This is third generation Jackass (fourth if you count Wildboyz, fifth if you count Bam's Unholy Union). There is potential for a night to be comprised solely of Johnny Knoxville and friends doing idiotic shit all the time.

"There is so much competition for the eyes and attention of young guys these days that we really have to over-deliver and create can't miss, event television for them," said Tony DiSanto, president of programming for MTV. "These two shows feature physical stunts that are jaw-dropping and unprecedented."

Here is a list of reasons why this statement makes Mr. DiSanto look like a fucking idiot:

• Competition for eyes and attention of young guys? Short of the young guys in question being more intelligent than average, or being either a dork/nerd/geek or gay, there are exactly two networks that they would watch: Spike and MTV, both of which are owned by Viacom, so where's the competition?
• Over-deliver? Since they're about to remove any vestiges of music from the television, MTV will become Laguna Beach Hills, Jersey Shore and Jackasses. Every so often, Ashton or Nick Cannon will make an appearance, but here's the thing Tony, it's called OVERKILL
• Can't miss, event television? By default, doesn't that mean the event in question can only happen once? I'll give you a pop culture example of what I mean: Who Wants To Be A Millionaire. Not so sweet the fifty thousandth time.
• Jaw-dropping and unprecedented physical stunts? From the network that brought us tennis ball cannon nutshots, barcalounger skiing, shopping cart long jump and stapling/pinning assholes shut, literally? This is the network that made bumfights popular for fuck's sake! Unless you're prepared to show live dismemberment or executions, I call immediate bullshit.
  

But enough taking shots at Mr. DiSanto, for now, here's a question I'd like to hear responses to: If MTV will completely sell out, what's going to happen to MTV2? As it is, it only plays Johnny Knoxville/Bam Margera production shows. Can we retool that to provide an honest-to-God music channel?

Sitereading 2.0

You can tell a lot from an internet profile. With a basic understanding of the English language, and as long as you haven't had your head shoved up your ass for the last ten or fifteen years, you can deduce a general personality of the person, their level of education, and if you're willing to use a few generalizations, some of their pop cultural preferences. Here are three of the tip offs:

Color choices: The use of color is something that has been interpreted, translated and flipped around for thousands of years. Adolescent and college girls, homosexual men, or those tied to a culture involving Ecstasy or similar drugs will tend to use bright, often to the point of being neon, "hot" colors, reds, oranges, pinks, neon greens, yellows. Men, mature minded women, hippies, rock bands tend to use the cooler shades of the spectrum. Serious business tends to be monochromatic, while senior citizens are in pastels. Easy peasy, you know the rest.

Word choice: Okay, now this is rather obvious. If you see someone writing like I am, they are obviously educated. Depending on their age, it could be knowledge and wisdom, or the genius of youth. Use of net lingo means they're either older geeks, or the young and savvy, but if the text is nothing but net lingo, then they probably need schooling, Jesus, a life or a combination of the three.

Screen name: One of the most overlooked open secrets on the web is that there's information in your screenname. First and last names, birthdays, astrological signs, favorite bands, all kinds of information can be gleaned. For example, you know someone with screenname flirtybaby6969 is not going to take anything seriously, and generally will have no concept of current events. xxx_RIP_xxx is likely some juvenile emo jackass who doesn't know which end is up.



By the way, who got the pun in the title of the post? For those who didn't I'll give you a hint, it's musical...

Tooting My Own Horn

Remember the writing contest from back in January? If not, it can be found to the right under 'GGD Writing Challenge', but anyway I FREAKIN' WON!!!!

I'd like to first thank the Man upstairs for giving me some talent, @geekgirldiva and the good folks at Entertainment Earth for the lovely $25 credit which I'm going to have a hard time deciding what to spend it on, @FangirlKMP for more or less making me start a blog, and now I'm going to get off the stage now before Kanye cuts me off


For those who can't figure out the navigation, the story blurb is pasted below

With a glimmer of malevolence in his eye, Doctor Divinorak hefted the magnetic resonance gun to his shoulder and turned to his young, obviously terrified, lab assistant.

"Do you know another name for an experiment gone awry?" Divinorak asked.

"A felony?" the assistant timidly answered.

"No," Divinorak replied informatively, "a happy accident." He pulled the trigger, instantly disintegrating the far wall of the lab.

Must See TV? I Think Not.

It's Thursday night, which according to NBC is 'must see TV'. As such, I must ask myself why? 'Must See TV' died when Friends and Fraiser ended their runs. Arguably, you could say it ended after Cosby and Cheers ended their runs, but the point is, there's really nothing on Thursday nights to get excited about.

There's The Office, another in a long line of British shows that NBC has copied and ruined (Fawlty Towers, Red Dwarf, Coupling, and Teachers, all of which I've seen the originals of). First of all, Steve Carrell needs to stick to movies. He's not good on television in any capacity. Secondly, the casting for this show was apparently either friends of a guy at a frathouse, or a bunch of people who were already screenwriters, which possibly accounts for the fact that not a single one of them is truly funny. Third, the mechanism for the humor is a bad idea for American TV. Us dumb American viewers make fun of people who are awkward, and exclude them from playing our reindeer games. Even if it weren't, it's so poorly executed that any humor from 'That's what she said' or anything Dwight does just looks totally stupid.

In contrast, 30 Rock has all the pieces The Office is deficient in: The writing is good (but could be better), the casting was ridiculous (how the got Alec Baldwin is beyond me, and he's FUNNY) and the humor works because they lampoon THEMSELVES. Now, I will freely admit, that I don't watch 30 Rock like I should, and the only two reasons that is is because there's a faint odor, a taint, if you will, of the rest of the shows in the line up, and that I cannot abide, and that like every other popular show after it wins every award on the planet, I think they're starting to phone it in

The problem with both Parks & Rec and Community is the same reason why NBC's in fourth, and the converse of why CBS is kicking ass: They're too dependent on their bread and butter shows. Every show in this lineup is stylistically descended from The Office, which means Joel McHale and the main cast, minus Chevy Chase, will write, produce, direct and star in bunches of crappy summer comedies. The casting or writing (to some degree) is descended from SNL and 30 Rock. What I still don't get is why Amy Pohler is still relevant, other than being Tina Fey's side dish since she's roughly equal to Steve Carrell in the funny department. Unlike CBS who can clone CSI or NCIS until the apocalypse and have each show be independent operators from each other, when I try to watch NBC's comedy lineup, I feel like I'm watch a two hour comedy movie that means nothing and isn't funny. I'd probably get more meaning out of a two hour Curb Your Enthusiasm marathon than the so-called Must See TV

And from where does NBC get the hubris to say anybody 'MUST' watch anything on their network anymore. You're in fourth place, dudes. Acknowledge your failings, suck it up, grow and learn. Rewatch the pilot episode of Studio 60 on the Sunset Strip for additional assistance

Hi, I'm A Television Cynic

I've been catching some flak because of my thoughts on television programming, or lack thereof, namely that I don't like anything that's gotten popular, or that a formerly unpopular show gets hot and I stop liking it solely for that reason. To dispel the rumours, here's a quickie guide to wha I consider good and bad TV

Good show: The West Wing. If I had to pick a gold standard for smart, funny and well written, this would be it. The writing on that show was incredible for network, the casting was phenomenal. It was hip, funny and current. I liked it so much, I ran out and bought it on DVD. It's the only TV series I own physically. The only reason why Star Trek: The Next Generation doesn't make this list is that the series ended sixteen years ago

Good shows that you can only really watch once: Law & Order, Castle: I've been a L & O fan for quite some time, and I've seen every episode of Castle thus far, but I find that rewatching cop shows is kind of like watching a comedy bit multiple times. It loses its appeal because how many times can you solve and resolve a mystery

Good shows that could be better: Burn Notice, In Plain Sight, White Collar, really anything on USA or TNT: USA and TNT are the US and Russia during the Cold War. Burn Notice begat Leverage. The Closer/Saving Grace gave us In Plain Sight. Once a good idea and a good show is made here, it's cheapened by its equally good doppelganger until next season, the quality of both starts to suffer. I can watch the first season of Burn Notice til my eyes bleed, but not necessarily so with the second, and certainly not the third, but I've seen every episode.

Okay shows: House, Criminal Minds, NCIS: For the same reasons, these are shows best when watched once or twice. The writing for these shows isn't so much bad as it is pedestrian, like there's a better version of the same story out there, they just decided to shoot this one., I only watch these shows as 'background noise' I don't neessarily have character affiliation for these kinds of shows, but for those who do, it's generally the nerdy/weird characters (Penelope Garcia, Abby Sciutto, Spencer Reid, Ziva David)

Not Funny Shows: NBC's Thursday night lineup, minus 30 Rock on occasion, SNL (anymore), Fox's Animation Sunday, South Park. This is where most of the bullshit come from, where people accuse me of not liking things because they're popular. LISTEN CAREFULLY, I'm about to explain it. In the case of Fox it's simple, Seth McFarlane runs that night, and Family Guy can only be repeated and replicated so many times before the jokes sound the same. The same holds true for South Park and The Simpsons because the latter has been around twenty years, the former about thirteen. In the case of NBC, they're not funny. A supposed president of a company dating a subordinate's mom as payback for breaking up with him, are you fucking kidding me? That's what she said? What are you, seven? And don't be fooled, Parks & Rec and Community are chips off the same block. If comedy were music, the NBC lineup would be 'indie comedy'

Crappy shows: This would take too long to list so if the show contains multiple instances of, including but not limited to the following, it sucks

• Bad writing
• Bad plot
• Bad casting
• Bad acting
• ALL SCRIPTED REALITY TV
• ALL 'UNSCRIPTED' NON-COMPETITION REALITY TV
• Any original series on any network owned by Viacom from 2000 on
• On the Disney Channel or its sister stations
  
• Excessive underage/collegiate partying
• The average age of the main cast is under 25
• A pregnancy under the age of 21
• Sitcoms
• Excessive CGI/camera tricks
• Excessive explosions for no justifiable reason
• Douchebaggery/Sorostitution
• Delusions of Jack Bauer/Cordell Walker Gramdeur
• Angsty rock theme/anthems
• Indie rock theme/anthems
• 'Tonight's music was from X, album coming out Y'

That is all...for now.

An Open Letter to Tony DiSanto, MTV President of Programming

Dear Mr. DiSanto

Over the last eleven years, since about the time the decision was made to truncate videos on 'Total Request Live', I would be willing to wager that the network has received a lot of criticism on the direction that they have decided to go. I understand that better than ninety percent, myself included are not, have not and never will be network executives or will deal with the political and monetary pressure that you're under, and I know you have not held your current position long. With that said, you are, and I should hope, have been, a viewer, and therefore should have your fingers on the pulse of the sentiment of fellow viewers.

When MTV began twenty-nine years ago, the concept was relatively simple: provide an outlet for music that wouldn't ordinarily make to the radio, foster the development of the music video, and to spread news and information about the music industry, and its relationship to current events in such a way that the youth of tomorrow would respond. I would simply like to ask, what happened? Did you, or potentially your bosses, forget where you came from?

I was born twenty-four years, three hundred fifty days ago, and for almost twenty-one of them, MTV has had an influence. I didn't have cable for the first decade of my life, but I already knew what MTV was. My sister's friends would tape episodes of 'Beavis and Butthead' for her to watch, and I'd watch with her. The few relatives I had with cable provided me with my opportunity to see live MTV. To this day, I remember that when I was nine or ten, in my great aunt Helen's apartment watching my first music video by myself, Green Day's 'Basket Case' at five some odd in the morning, during 'MTV After Hours'.

When I was eleven, we got cable, and I remember having a 'Holy Trinity' of stations I could watch: MTV, Cartoon Network, and Nickelodeon, which also suffers from a form of the same problem MTV does. 'The Real World', though I knew was at least prompted, wasn't overly so and was entertaining as a result. Spring break to me meant watching it on MTV because there'd be awesome concert shows and Jerry Springer doing crazy things. Thanks to 'Daria', I came into my own in my discovery of techno music, and as a result found out about rave culture from 'Amp'. When noteworthy events happened, Kurt Loder and Serena Altschul were just as familiar to me as Peter Jennings and Diane Sawyer

A funny thing happened in my late teens and into college. During the great bubblegum pop boom two things happened: the number of music videos and shows about the actual music decreased, and you created MTV2, a home for the more 'alternative' styles of music. It was an efficient, albeit obvious, solution to a problem I believe Viacom foresaw. When you did, Shows like 'Aeon Flux', 'The Head', '120 Minutes' and 'Amp' were either kicked down to MTV2 or kicked off the network all together while 'TRL' ran roughshod over its own premise.In five years, the show went from airing three minute videos to thirty second sound bytes, then plugged Jamster ringtones incessantly. Music videos themselves were on life support, if it weren't for the fact that at the time, reality TV hadn't exponentially increased, the middle of the night would not have been a safe haven for them, unlike the 'Jackass'/'Viva La Bam'/'Wildboyz/'Punk'd' marathons of today.

Now, fifteen days shy of my twenty-fifth birthday, I ask myself, and I ask you, what is a music video on MTV anymore? Call it what you want to call it, I call it a fifteen to thirty second outro, a background for the credits. I see musicians on shows to promote albums, or displaying the contents of their houses, but not actually talking about their music, or music in general. MTV News is non-existent. Spring break is blatantly an excuse to put scantily clad, heavily intoxicated co-eds on TV to sell a lifestyle and a product. MTV original programming went from four cartoons and untold music shows to Jackass and its clones, Laguna Beach and its clones and a bunch of reality shows

I am a member of Generation Y, part of the so called MTV Generation. MTV was so instrumental in pop cultural history, so paradigm shifting that its name was given to not one, but two generations. With that kind of influence, there is an expectation, an expectation to be good influences on the youths of the nation, to steer them in the right direction, if you will. As I write this letter, members of the cast of 'Jersey Shore' were acting very much like their very obvious stereotypes on TMZ for all the world to see, it's apparent to me that since there's no real music anymore, a former slogan rings true, 'MTV is in your music'

I realize that this letter has gone on for a considerable length, so I thank you for your time, but before I stop, I have three questions I would like to know your answer t0: Will a change be made? If so, of what magnitude, and if not, a direct answer why not. I'm a big boy, I understand you all need to support your families.

Thank you again for your time,

Chris Hyatt.

The Music Industry Fairy Tale

Once upon a time, for the sake of this story, let's say...fifty years ago, you needed two things to be a musician: a musical instrument, preferably guitar, and talent. Looks were important then too, but if you sucked, you got called out for it. If you wanted to get popular, you'd play on the nightclub circuit and if you sucked, they killed your career dead before it started. The A & R guys would be in the back of the joint and if you were good, you'd have a deal and be on the radio in fifteen minutes. That's how the Stones did it, that's how The Beatles did it, that's how Janis, Jimi, Jim, Skynyrd and Zep did it.

Twenty-five years later, shortly after the apparent 'suicide' of Kurt Cobain, a new phenomenon happened. Britney Spears, fake tits and all, decided to get some computer help with singing. She can sing a little bit, but not without major touching, but no one cared, she had big tits. Jessica Simpson followed in her wake, while on the other side of the gender divide, NSYNC and Backstreet Boys were buying up all the hair gel in the known world. No one of these motherfuckers could sing, but as long as they had washboard abs, and a computer to fix shit with on the fly, again, no one cared.

What a lot of people realized, but wrote off as coincidental, 90% of the successful pop singers of the nineties (and even now) came from the Disney Channel. To illustrate my beef, and to give you guys some context, Michale Jackson, Frank Sinatra, Bobby Darin and Dean Martin were the pop singers of their day, compared to Britney Spears, Christina Aguilara, Hanna Montana and whatever that jailbait witch from Waverly Place's name is.

With all that said, I have a couple questions:

How the hell did Disney Channel take over the music game?

Why doesn't the radio play anything good anymore?

Do people actually know how to sing or play instruments, or are they quickly taught and filled in with computers?

Why are people in general stupid enough to buy into this

If I were to start a musical revolution, who would join me?

GGD Writing Challenge

With a glimmer of malevolence in his eye, Doctor Divinorak hefted the magnetic resonance gun to his shoulder and turned to his young, obviously terrified, lab assistant.

"Do you know another name for an experiment gone awry?" Divinorak asked.

"A felony?" the assistant timidly answered.

"No," Divinorak replied informatively, "a happy accident." He pulled the trigger, instantly disintegrating the far wall of the lab.

Lukewarm Love Polygons

I understand that in order to keep a television series on the air long-term, you need some plot element that lingers over the run of the series, or at least a large chunk of it. For shows where the plot elements are event based (think doctors, lawyers, cops) this will likely take the form of a romance between the male and female protagonists. The catch is everyone knows that if they get together too quickly, the show will lose viewers, so you gotta drag it out for as long as possible, using pretty much every trope in the book. What will ultimately end up happening is the the romantic angle will turn into a big game of 'Will He/She or Won't She/He' This tactic can be played straight, subverted, or be plain fucking obvious. Bones, Defying Gravity and Castle. will be used to illustrate an example of each

In Bones, it's played pretty straight. Booth and Brennan are both very much aware of the chemistry between them. He has dreams, she gets the gossip stream from her coworkers, they even see the same shrink for couple's therapy by any other name. It's so cute that at the end of every episode, they have a burger (or some food, but generally a burger) and a beer, with the longing looks and what not. We all know that by the end of the series, they're going to be dating/married, potentially with kids in the picture, or at least a very strong implication of either scenario.

Defying Gravity subverts this by not only giving everything to you for free in the beginning. We see all the stuff happen during astronaut training, then we fast forward a few years. Now we have a situation where all of the main characters dated each other (with some getting hitched), and are now trapped with each other on Antares for six years . Jen dated Ted, married Rollie, and is pretty much going to go back to Ted while on the ship, Ted dated Jen, married Eve, and is stuck on the ship with Jen. Then there's that poor bastard Donner still lamenting the chick he left behind on Mars while Nadia and Zoe are at each others' throats, even though EVERYONE knew from the word 'Go' it's going to be Zoe and Donner, I mean is there any doubt that the romance in this was designed merely for the sex and nothing else? Christ, Eve hung a lampshade on it near the end by saying "It was always Zoe and Donner"

And then we have Castle, the impetus for this post, with a little assistance from Robin (@UppityWomyn). Here we have Castle and Beckett, polar opposites of each other in most respects,going round and round. Castle's a divorced family man that basically acts like a womanizer, and Beckett's the hardass who wants to settle and have a family after she locates the guy who killed her mom and avenges her, but she's not going to say that out loud. She's the inspiration for his book, writes about passionate sex between them, but in real life (show perspective)they're a pair of teenagers at best going through the motions. I can't tell you how many times I've seen the 'inadvertent double dinner date at fancy restaurant' gag one too many times.

Look guys, I'm a fan of all three shows (less so Bones than the other three, but I don't even dislike it), and I doubt you'll find a bigger Wassenfelder fan ('cause I know I'm on the ship, and you're not, because it's fractalrific!), but sweet Jesus people, learn to write better romantic scenes, or at least don't write them so obviously.

Context Matters

When I'm on Twitter, I get the majority of my entertainment news (not tabloids) from Cy Lauz (@CYofRelief). She tweeted that VH1 has a transgendered women makeover show in development, and I went postal, not because of the women, but because of the show itself. 140 characters isn't enough, nearly enough, to express myself on this, so here's why this is a TERRIBLE idea:

1) It's reality TV. I should be able to stop right there, but I'm going to continue. It's reality TV, which hasn't really evolved much in fifteen years, that's unoriginal short of the fact the cast are transgendered women. They're not doing anything positive (or really negative for that matter) for reality tv.

2) It's on VH1. Now I know the younger kiddies out there have no clue what those letters mean, and they are unlikely to look. the VH stands for Video Hits, as in music videos. So first, show me the music in a makeover beauty show. You want to the track in the background, okay. Sow me the hits. The royalties alone would kill them, so how abuot this, find me any aspect of this show that has to do with music videos, or the music industry at all

3) The Harriet Hayes Problem. I take an example from an episode of Studio 60 on the Sunset Strip to explain. Harriet Hayes, a devout Christian comedienne, made a deal to sing at events sponsored by a Christian group she'd been with since childhood. After saying two words on gay marriage, she's told to stay home, so she decides to do a lingerie shoot in retaliation. Simon Styles and Tom Jeter, friends and castmates, talk her out of it by pointing out that she's being objectified, but not in the way she wanted to be.

Applying this to the matter at hand, transgendered women want to get themselves out there in a positive light. I'm all for that. In order to do so, they're going to have to objectify themselves. I'm still with you, it's part and parcel of being on tv. Why, why, WHY on Earth would your first move to be on reality tv? Look at the gay community. It took them God knows how long to escape first, the stereotype of being 'pretty boys', then to escape the 'Queer Eye' stereotype. Oh hey, there's a PERFECT example of getting the wrong end of the deal.

The historical pop culture, admittedly geek, parallel would be Nichelle Nichols. In 1960s America, it was a major paradigm shift that blacks could have jobs of actual responsibility and authority and NOT fuck up. Being a black bridge officer with legitimate rank, an actual job, and actual skill was a game changer, and helped pave the way for Morgan Freeman to play the President and for Barry to do it in real life.

4) It's just not going to be any good. I mean, really? Socio-temporal differences aside, there was probably a reason why RuPaul never did a beauty reality show when he was still relevant, opting for a standard talk show. Why do a show you know is the same ole same ole, has a shelf life, and in general is not worth doing? Do us all a favor: stop wasting our time

Top Freakin' Chef

First, let me begin by saying in general, FUCK REALITY TELEVISION. I put it in all caps to the dismay of the font police because it's just that important.

Now, that said, let me tell you why I like Top Chef.

First, I like to cook. Yeah, I said it. I'm a heterosexual male who knows how to and enjoys to cook. In fact, I think it's almost a racial stereotype that black men know how to cook, but it's subverted since it's part of the heritage. (I'd like to stop for a second and mention this choice house I'm listening to. It's straight old school 90s sounds, except it dropped like last week. In fact, it's the A-Trak remix of a band I totally don't like: The Yeah Yeah Yeahs, namely 'Heads Will Roll', and I'm now going to start the Twitter abbreviation NIGO for 'need I go on?')
Now, because I like to cook, I want to learn how to do stuff I don't know how to do, especially if it's fancy as shit, and it tastes awesome, which is what Top Chef is all about

Second, I like to see the talent they get together. Unlike Hell's Kitchen, or whatever food show NBC's gonna cancel next, or whatever nonsense on Food Network, Top Chef actually has damned talented chefs. This past season, there were two James Beard nominated chefs, one who worked more or less directly for Eric Ripert, I mean it was nuts. The cooks in Hell's Kitchen are pretty much just that, cooks. And why is it they're ALWAYS serving a godsdamned WELLINGTON FOR SEVEN DAMNED SEASONS!!!!!

Third, the drama, while at the very least coached, is done pretty well. Yes, it's most definitely a show on Bravo, West Coast like a motherfucker, well represented in the GLBT crowd, let's call a spade a spade. Yes, it's a show on Bravo, West Coast like a motherfucker, sophisticated as hell, but pretentious as fuck, hoity-toity haute couture 'indie minded claptrap'. I get all that. But damn it, I can genuinely be about being stylish and 'classy just like these guys', while not spending a bajillion dollars in the process.

Fourth, the in house drama a la The Real (Bullshit) World is kept to a minimum. It's all about producing good food. You screw up once, you could be the hottest shit on the planet, they will tell you to pack your knives and get the fuck OUT

Lastly, the judging, though sometimes, okay, a lot of the time, vague as hell (like how everything is 'finished off' and everything is 'clean') is as fair as you're likely to see in reality competitions. To steal and modify a trope from TVTropes.Org, Anyone Can Be Eliminated

Post #1: A Disclaimer of Sorts

Hello internets. As this is post number one, I feel it's my duty to let you know exactly what you're in for. This, quite simply, is a pop/mainstream whatever-you-want-to-call-it cultural rage page. A show that doesn't deserve to be made goes huge, I'm going to take shots at it. A musical artist that was good sold out/ I'm going to say something. From time to time, I will say some nutjob shit. If you can't handle the content, do yourself a favor and skip the fuck out, because here, I will say that the cast of Jersey Shore need to be beat about the head with a two by four and that someone should feed Snooki another snausage, and I just won't give a fuck.

I will aslo shameless plug things I like, leak parts of any novels I should happen to write and say some out of the box funny funny shit.

Aw hell, just read at your own risk and leave me a lone.

Damn it, I hate these first posts....