The Two Paragraphs Hate: Dude Capris (Manpris)

Didn’t know this was actually something other people hated too.  Just found out that I’m not the only one who noticed this ridiculous trend of Capri looking pants on dudes.  Also, just found out the term “manpris” has been coined to describe it.  Regardless of what you call them, this shit has to stop.  While my hatred began with mid-shin length plaid shorts that just look like Capris, I eventually started seeing pants that weren’t even disguising the fact that they were intended to be Capris for bros.

 

There are two types of pants: short pants, and long pants.  There is never practical reason for something in between.  It’s hot, you wear shorts; its cold, you wear long pants.  If it’s somewhere in between, pick one and deal with it like a man.   Frankly, unless you’re swimming, or hanging out in weather where jeans will produce ass or junk-sweat stains, go for some jeans of the non-skinny variety.  Clothing manufacturers have successfully marketed Capri pants to women to fill a nonexistent need for temperate weather attire because women are gullible and look for any excuse to buy more clothing.  As a man, you should be above that level of stupidity.  Wear them and lose credibility as a man.  Summary executions to follow for anyone who pairs them with a t-shirt/vest combo and Marc Ecko fedora.

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The Two Paragraphs Hate: Gum

I can’t help but feel like you choose to chew gum in public with the specific intention of outwardly conveying your douche-cockery.  Yes, you.  You, who insist on chewing gum, obnoxiously, with your mouth open like you’re doing a bad impersonation of a James Spader character.  Actually, suggesting that you are chewing gum obnoxiously is redundant.  I don’t thing it is really possible to chew gum in a way that isn’t obnoxious on some level.  You could, however, chew with a little more grace, or at least, concern for how you are coming off to those around you.  You could, but you won’t.

If you work long hours in front of a computer, in a cubicle, alone, you go right ahead and chew you some gum.  Anytime you want to enjoy yourself some Big League Chew, perhaps some Juicy fruit, and you find yourself alone, you have at it.  Chew to your little heart’s content.  But when you head out into the world, where interaction with others is required, or even just possible,  spit it out into an authorized trash receptacle.  You can’t be the one guy who can converse with me, with gum in his mouth, and not come off like a huge ass, so don’t try.

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The Two Paragraphs Hate: Introduce your damn self!

Quickly becoming one of my biggest pet peeves is the phone salutation, “Hey, it’s me.” People have been so spoiled by cell phones and caller ID for so long, that they now feel like this is an acceptable way to greet the person they are calling.  It’s not.  When I look at my work phone, I don’t see your name.  All I see is a dusty, ancient, poorly working hotbox for pestilence.

I’m glad you think I should immediately know your voice, random customer whom I’ve checked out twice.  Hey male employee, glad you don’t realize you sound just like every other male employee at this or any other store from the listening end of our shitty, low volume, high static antiques.  You aren’t James Earl Jones.  Darth fucking Vader* doesn’t have to introduce himself.  You do.  Furthermore, I expect James Earl Jones still introduces himself, as he strikes me as that kind of guy.  I have a deep, distinctive voice, and I still have the decency to introduce myself, by name, when I ring some mofos.  The rest of you douche-sacks don’t have any excuse.

*Note: Use of Star Wars reference does not constitute endorsement of Star Wars.  I give no shit, flying or otherwise about Star Wars.
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Free Advertising of the Week: Ms. Splosion Man

Free Advertising of the Week (FAOW) is where I advertise a product or service for free, in the hopes of getting free crap for it.

This time around on FAOW, I’ll be advertising the latest Twisted Pixel adventure on the Xbox Live Arcade, Ms. Splosion Man. While I don’t do a whole lot of gaming, this is the precise kind of game I enjoy, so if the fine folks at Twisted Pixel want to forward me a code for a review copy, I’ll follow this up with said review. For now, even if they are jerks and don’t hook a long time fan up, their games are still good enough to deserve some free advertising.

So, as I said, not a huge gamer. I enjoy a fine video game, but don’t care for shooters, sports, rpgs, and most other hardcore niches. I love brightly colored platformers, especially of the side scrolling variety. Resultantly, the Xbox Live Arcade has been a haven for me in my years of owning a 360, and the Twisted Pixel clan have put out some of my favorite games for it. Really, not just saying that as part of my stupid scheme to get free crap. They’ve already gotten a bunch of my hard earned M$ points. I bought The Maw, ‘Splosion Man, and Comic Jumper, so they really ought to hook a brotha up. Continue reading

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Slacker Movie Night: Passion Play

Some movies are good. Some movies are bad. Some movies are Nicholas Cage movies. Passion Play, however, is none of the above. It resides in that nebulous category of frustrating movies.

See, Nicholas Cage movies aren’t frustrating. They’re bad, and he’s bad in them, to be sure. Nicholas Cage fans are what is frustrating about Nicholas Cage movies. I’ve already touched on this in a previous article so I won’t go into it too much here. The point is just that ol’ Nick keeps pumping out his particular brand of shite because people keep watching it. I can’t blame studios for wanting to cash in on the idiocy of the masses. When a movie is frustrating because of it’s own content, you have something like Passion Play. Continue reading

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In which we discuss Slackers, reading, and their inexplicable connection.

Reading and slacking have a time honored connection that I feel I should expound upon a bit, especially considering the week we seem to have had. Reading was the thematic through-line with the introduction of the Slacker Book Club and Better World Books in the FAOW, so now seems as good a time as any to talk about this unlikely connection.

First, let’s look at our terms. Here at Modern Slacker, you’ll find I use the term “slacker” in the sense I most identify with, which is that of the 90′s era. Classically lazy and unmotivated, but with substantial intellectual wherewithal, the 90′s slacker pontificated on the meaning of life and his place in social machine, and did so in the small time coffee shops that caused the Starbucks revolution. The 90′s slacker read Nietzsche to Gaiman, watched Bergman to Linklater, played guitar and SNES. The 90′s slacker didn’t just smoke pot and play Call of Duty, with the occasional appearance on “Mac Row” at Starbucks like the pseudo-slackers of today. The 90′s slacker was cultured, perhaps even too cultured, but simply chose not to do anything with said culture, except accumulate it like an intellectual horder. These are the real slackers. These are the Modern Slackers. Continue reading

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Slacker Book Club: Art of Manliness

So, now that Oprah has abandoned you, aside from the gaping void in your life, there’s going to be a gaping void in your bookshelf. For years the only books that the illiterate diptard masses have bothered reading are were the ones Oprah demanded you read. What now? Fear not, demographic that likely never watched a single episode of Oprah. Modern Slacker is here to fill the void, with regular installments in the Slacker Book Club to help guide you to fine reading recommendations you will probably never take me up on.

This first go-around I’ll be looking at The Art of Manliness: Classic Skills and Manners for the Modern Man, by Brett and Kate McKay. Not the most likely choice to set the tone here, I’ll admit. While the agenda includes more obvious titles like the Underachiever’s Manifesto and How to Be Idle, I’m starting with something a bit more counterintuitive. Why? Good question.

I scoffed at the notion of blogs for years. In their infancy, they were essentially Live Journal: the Next Generation; kids providing whinny details about their boring suburban lives, and tedious essays on their spoiled outlook, uninteresting feelings, and perceived persecution. Quickly, they took on more meaning as purveyors of news and culture from a more relatable perspective than what their corporate equivalents could provide. In the best cases, they are now heirs to the vacant or vacating legacy of the print magazine. The Art of Manliness, one such blog, from which the book is derived, was one of the first blogs I read that really provided meaningful and interesting content, and really showed that blogs could be beneficial. Accordingly, it was one of the biggest influences for me in starting this blog, so that’s why I read the book and am using it in my first Book Club column. Continue reading

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Free Advertising of the Week: Better World Books

Free Advertising of the Week (FAOW) is where I advertise a product or service for free, in the hopes of getting free crap for it.

So, you might have noticed that the last Free Advertising of the Week was up for 2 weeks.  I chalk this up to three factors:

1. Lazy.

2. No readership, so timeliness benefits me in zero ways.

3. Green Lantern needed the support.

Returning to a normal schedule (even though it’s Wednesday. You know, lazy.) we have a new installment.  Once again I’m going for a cause as opposed to the intended ploy to get free crap, due largely to the futility in that pursuit suggested by reason number 2 above.  When people actually start reading this, beef jerky and Hot Pockets all the way.  For now, stuff I like to show some support for.  Specifically, this week I’m giving free advertising to Better World Books. Continue reading

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The Two Paragraphs Hate: Nicholas Cage

Anyone who has visited a website, watched a YouTube video, or enjoyed a late night segment will be well aware of a pleasant trend pointing out the absurdity of Nicholas Cage’s acting.  Mash-ups of ridiculous moments make for some fine comedy indeed.  He’s just awful.  In snippets, these moments are hilarious, but he’s not making snippets, he’s making hour-and-a-half travesties of celluloid (maybe travesties of binary code, what with the digital and all).  And while most of us decent, thinking human beings are content to laugh and move on, without wasting our time on the movies themselves, from working on the front-lines in the exciting world of video rental, I can tell you that the majority of the general population aren’t laughing at him, they are eagerly awaiting his next gem.  The average American actually likes his crap.

Therein lies the problem.  The number of people who use the line, “I love Nicholas Cage,” with nary a hint of irony, makes my soul cry.  While it’s easy for me to sit here or stand there and bemoan the perpetuation of Cage’s cinematic adventures, box office history and nepotism can only carry you so far. In a fair and just world where people weren’t complete dipshits, his star would have quickly fizzled, if it ever shone at all.  As dipshittery occurs en masse, idiot movie goers, incapable of any measure of sophisticated or discerning taste, are the reason this bastard won’t go away, and the reason a little piece of my spirit dies three to five times a year.

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Slacker Movie Night: Green Lantern

Today I’ll be reviewing Green Lantern, the new film based on the classic, and incredibly awesome, DC character. True to slacker form, nerdity is a large part of my life, so I approached the movie from a hardcore fan perspective, but I’m also a realist and a student of the cinematic arts. I’d like to think that my intense fandom is tempered by a more objective appreciation for what makes a decent movie for everyone, not just nerd-folk.

That said the critics and fans and all forms of naysayers are douche-tards. They’ve lead you astray with their harsh words about Green Lantern and general douche-tardery. The movie is nowhere near as bad as everyone is making it out to be. Now, mind you, that isn’t to say it’s perfect. Far from it. It has a number of glaring flaws that detract from the overall experience. But the movie is certainly no worse than any of the awful Marvel movies idiots go ape feces over. Any of the critics who claim it’s terrible but, for example, liked Iron Man, need a swift boot to the throat.

Continue reading

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