Apparently they are making a new movie version of "The Lorax". The Lorax, in case I haven't mentioned it, is one of my most favorite things in life.
I hope they don't ruin it the way that absolutely every other Dr. Seuss movie in recent years has been utterly ruined!
Showing posts with label the rage. Show all posts
Showing posts with label the rage. Show all posts
Tuesday
Wednesday
Radio woes.
Do you remember the last time I talked about radio? It turns out it was almost a year ago. But I still listen when I drive in my car! Which means that I listen to the radio at least three days a week, often more!
Here is my tale of woe: I may have to break up with WRXP. I may have to do this because WRXP may be turning into K-Rock.
Now, the last time I talked about K-Rock was here. At the time I was very pleased with it. Although I didn't expressly mention it, that turned out to be very short-lived. When I was in high school, I referred to K-Rock almost exclusively as "Douche Rock." On the surface I did this to annoy my guy friends who were enamored of it. In reality, it was so called because the entire station was nothing but a cesspool of bad music, casual misogyny, and obnoxious djs designed to appeal exclusively to the young male in extended adolescence. Actually, I can sum it up in two words: Howard Stern.
It was entertaining for a while, as described in my previous entry. Then they decided to trumpet their resurgence with a new ad campaign that featured mostly naked girls, inviting listeners to check out the station's online galleries, where they could surf until their hands cramped. And they expanded their 90s-based repertoire with whiny screamo.
But no matter, for I had my new radio boyfriend, WRXP, New York's Rock Experience.
Fast forward to ... I don't know, last month, maybe? K-Rock is off the air! I know! It has been replaced with a station where I can listen to all those new Britney Spears songs and actually find out what Lady GaGa sounds like, if I so choose. On the surface, this should be, if not positive news, then at least neutral-leaning-towards-positive news. I mean, I only ever listened to it if all the other stations were simultaneously playing commercials and/or U2. (Update on that, incidentally: They never fucking stopped rhapsodizing about U2, so I actually do kind of hate them now.)
But about two weeks ago, I was driving towards my home, and an ad came on, aimed at former K-Rock listeners. It promised them a new home at WRXP, as well as a familiar voice: one of the K-Rock djs would join the station, and do a ridiculously long shift in the afternoon/early-evening. Ugh. ... Ugh. I was already mildly angry from a few days prior when they had played a song by Fall Out Boy. (I think, anyway; I don't actually know what song it was, but it was whiny.)
But never let it be said that I don't give things a fair optimistic chance before deciding that I loathe them. I mean, I expected Twilight to be good. It took almost two weeks for me to write this entry.
I still don't know his name, but Christ, he's awful. The sort that thinks things are funnier when he shouts them. The sort that thinks he is desperately funny, and laughs at his own jokes to further that impression. The sort that addresses callers as "dude" and "my man." I was hoping it would abate with time and he would fit in with the tone of the other djs at the station.
Today he was giving away free tickets, in the manner that radio stations sometimes do. A woman called in, and he greeted her by saying: "Oh, a lovely female caller, hello." After telling her that she was the winner, he mimicked her excitement in an overwrought falsetto. He then told her that she was getting the tickets on a "five-finger discount" to which he then added: "That's Ebonics for 'free'." After I put my jaw back in place, I changed the station, because I'd heard enough.
I feel like I should write to the station to complain, but I don't know what to say. I hate to be one of those people who only comments to complain. But on the other hand, ever since they arrived on the airwaves, they've been billing themselves as a refreshing change from all the terrible radio New York has to offer. And up until now, they were. But there's a reason that people were looking for a change from stations like K-Rock, and dare I say, a reason K-Rock is now off the air. I am most displeased.
To make matter worse, I just saw one of those spiders in my bedroom and now I don't know where it is and it's probably going to bite me in my sleep. ... I know that part has nothing to do with radio, but COME ON. ETA: I met my enemy for a second time and succeeded in slaughtering the foul beast. Other problem still stands.
Here is my tale of woe: I may have to break up with WRXP. I may have to do this because WRXP may be turning into K-Rock.
Now, the last time I talked about K-Rock was here. At the time I was very pleased with it. Although I didn't expressly mention it, that turned out to be very short-lived. When I was in high school, I referred to K-Rock almost exclusively as "Douche Rock." On the surface I did this to annoy my guy friends who were enamored of it. In reality, it was so called because the entire station was nothing but a cesspool of bad music, casual misogyny, and obnoxious djs designed to appeal exclusively to the young male in extended adolescence. Actually, I can sum it up in two words: Howard Stern.
It was entertaining for a while, as described in my previous entry. Then they decided to trumpet their resurgence with a new ad campaign that featured mostly naked girls, inviting listeners to check out the station's online galleries, where they could surf until their hands cramped. And they expanded their 90s-based repertoire with whiny screamo.
But no matter, for I had my new radio boyfriend, WRXP, New York's Rock Experience.
Fast forward to ... I don't know, last month, maybe? K-Rock is off the air! I know! It has been replaced with a station where I can listen to all those new Britney Spears songs and actually find out what Lady GaGa sounds like, if I so choose. On the surface, this should be, if not positive news, then at least neutral-leaning-towards-positive news. I mean, I only ever listened to it if all the other stations were simultaneously playing commercials and/or U2. (Update on that, incidentally: They never fucking stopped rhapsodizing about U2, so I actually do kind of hate them now.)
But about two weeks ago, I was driving towards my home, and an ad came on, aimed at former K-Rock listeners. It promised them a new home at WRXP, as well as a familiar voice: one of the K-Rock djs would join the station, and do a ridiculously long shift in the afternoon/early-evening. Ugh. ... Ugh. I was already mildly angry from a few days prior when they had played a song by Fall Out Boy. (I think, anyway; I don't actually know what song it was, but it was whiny.)
But never let it be said that I don't give things a fair optimistic chance before deciding that I loathe them. I mean, I expected Twilight to be good. It took almost two weeks for me to write this entry.
I still don't know his name, but Christ, he's awful. The sort that thinks things are funnier when he shouts them. The sort that thinks he is desperately funny, and laughs at his own jokes to further that impression. The sort that addresses callers as "dude" and "my man." I was hoping it would abate with time and he would fit in with the tone of the other djs at the station.
Today he was giving away free tickets, in the manner that radio stations sometimes do. A woman called in, and he greeted her by saying: "Oh, a lovely female caller, hello." After telling her that she was the winner, he mimicked her excitement in an overwrought falsetto. He then told her that she was getting the tickets on a "five-finger discount" to which he then added: "That's Ebonics for 'free'." After I put my jaw back in place, I changed the station, because I'd heard enough.
I feel like I should write to the station to complain, but I don't know what to say. I hate to be one of those people who only comments to complain. But on the other hand, ever since they arrived on the airwaves, they've been billing themselves as a refreshing change from all the terrible radio New York has to offer. And up until now, they were. But there's a reason that people were looking for a change from stations like K-Rock, and dare I say, a reason K-Rock is now off the air. I am most displeased.
Sunday
Schadenfreude is love.
There are few things that make me angrier than people driving all crazy around my also envehicled personage. There's usually gesticulating.
However, today, I figured out what can make that anger immediately dissipate. It's the greatest thing in the world. It is watching the person who swerved to cut you off get pulled over.
Woo hoo!!
However, today, I figured out what can make that anger immediately dissipate. It's the greatest thing in the world. It is watching the person who swerved to cut you off get pulled over.
Woo hoo!!
Thursday
If I may, BAM!
I sent the following to the New York Times. It turns out that I can actually write well when I put my mind to it. ... about Harry Potter.
-----
To Whom It May Concern:
I am a long-time reader and, often, avid supporter of the New York Times. Not today, however. Today, I am saddened, sick, and profoundly disappointed in your publication. You see, I am also one of the millions of young people who has spent the past decade growing up with Harry Potter.
Your decision to print and run material from the unreleased final book is, in a word, wrong. There was not a shred of journalistic integrity in this decision. The only thing served by this action is a base, mean scrabbling for sensationalist material.
Furthermore, your choice has hurt millions of Harry Potter fans, many of them children, and all of them deserving of the simple decency not to have this book ruined for them. For them, today, you are the enemy. You have attempted to rob them of a moment of joy that they have been waiting for for many years. For some of them, it has been most of their lives.
To say that I expect better of the Times is an understatement. I can no longer consider the Times a model for conscientious and professional conduct. I wonder how, if at all, your newspaper can win back my respect, and the respect of the scores of readers like me.
I must say that I was pleased to see the condemnation handed out to you by JK Rowling and her Bloomsbury publishers. I hope this, and the harsh words of readers, gives you pause. I hope that you feel shame for what you have done. You cannot take this decision back. I hope that you will at least prevent The New York Times from behaving so poorly in the future.
Sincerely,
Amy Jupenstein*
*not true. I used my real name.
-----
To Whom It May Concern:
I am a long-time reader and, often, avid supporter of the New York Times. Not today, however. Today, I am saddened, sick, and profoundly disappointed in your publication. You see, I am also one of the millions of young people who has spent the past decade growing up with Harry Potter.
Your decision to print and run material from the unreleased final book is, in a word, wrong. There was not a shred of journalistic integrity in this decision. The only thing served by this action is a base, mean scrabbling for sensationalist material.
Furthermore, your choice has hurt millions of Harry Potter fans, many of them children, and all of them deserving of the simple decency not to have this book ruined for them. For them, today, you are the enemy. You have attempted to rob them of a moment of joy that they have been waiting for for many years. For some of them, it has been most of their lives.
To say that I expect better of the Times is an understatement. I can no longer consider the Times a model for conscientious and professional conduct. I wonder how, if at all, your newspaper can win back my respect, and the respect of the scores of readers like me.
I must say that I was pleased to see the condemnation handed out to you by JK Rowling and her Bloomsbury publishers. I hope this, and the harsh words of readers, gives you pause. I hope that you feel shame for what you have done. You cannot take this decision back. I hope that you will at least prevent The New York Times from behaving so poorly in the future.
Sincerely,
Amy Jupenstein*
*not true. I used my real name.
Friday
LIVID.
This is what I was earlier this morning. I had to write a few emails, so I'm better now. But, oh, man. LIVID.
Some of you may remember (but probably not) that a while ago I mentioned National Geographic's Genographic Project. I'm not linking to it because I hate them. Well, I hate someone, anyway. I'm not really sure who.
Here's what it is. National Geographic is sponsoring a scientific project to map human migration based on Y-chromosome DNA and mitochondrial DNA. Pretty sweet! A swab of your cheek cells will allow you to trace your ancestors back to the bowels of time. Kind of.
It still sounds awesome, and I would still recommend that you get involved with it.
Here's where the problems ensued. As most of you know, I don't have a credit card. Because damn The Man. The kit costs in excess of 100 dollars, and I purchased it online using a prepaid card.
A few weeks later I received an email stating that the "credit card number" I used could not be processed, and to call the customer service number. I did so immediately. What I learned is that, because the card is not associated with a billing address, their system can't process it. Super. Anyway. I told them that I would be sending in an alternate method of payment and not to cancel the order.
The very next day (June 15th) I mailed in a money order for the full amount. I don't have a checking account either. You know what? Stop judging me.
I heard nothing until two weeks later, when I received an email saying exactly the same thing the first email said. The credit card number cannot be processed, please call customer service for assistance. I call customer service again, and speak to two different people and tell the whole story. I tell them that I have already sent in a payment, and please don't cancel my order. Both (like the first one) assured me that they would make notes on the order and that it would not be canceled.
Last night, I received another email. It was sent at 8:45PM EDT. It said that the credit card number could not be processed and as they had contacted me several times about this issue I had to respond that day or else they would assume that I wanted my order canceled. I called them again. Spoke with a fourth person. Explained the whole thing from the beginning. Had this fourth person assure me that my order would not be canceled.
Also, on a whim, I sent a strongly worded reply to the email I received, saying how profoundly disappointed I was with the appallingly unprofessional manner in which this situation had been handled. Seriously, in that email? There were no less than three misspellings, so that when I called customer service, I checked with them to make sure it wasn't spam. In any event, it didn't bounce back, so someone received it. I'm sure it will accomplish nothing, though.
Today. I'm at work. I get an email. They canceled my fucking order. Because the credit card number could not be processed. Cue my head exploding.
I called again, immediately. Spent God knows how long on hold at various times. The problem as it stands now is, of course, they don't have the money order. Even though I sent it exactly as instructed by the very first person I spoke to one month ago. What I get from the chick I'm talking to is that they have not received the money order. They recently moved locations, and maybe it's lost in the shuffle somewhere. Basically, "Waffle, waffle, bullshit." And "she" says that they can only keep the order on hold for so long. "Who is 'she'?" I ask. The girl's supervisor. Can I speak with this supervisor? No, of course not, because the girl is not allowed to transfer calls to the supervisor. I can leave my number, though! Which I did, for the third time. Who wants to wager that I never get a fucking call?
So, as of now, I am out $100+ that these people have lost (I sent it over a month ago - what the fuck, please?), I have no order, and not one of these people knows what the fuck they are doing. At present, I don't know how I can complain more loudly or more vehemently than I have done, but I will find out how and I will do it. Because Jesus Fucking Christ.
On the other hand, I'm totally going into town to chat about Harry Potter later. And I'm getting another new tree for the front of my house, courtesy of the twip.
Some of you may remember (but probably not) that a while ago I mentioned National Geographic's Genographic Project. I'm not linking to it because I hate them. Well, I hate someone, anyway. I'm not really sure who.
Here's what it is. National Geographic is sponsoring a scientific project to map human migration based on Y-chromosome DNA and mitochondrial DNA. Pretty sweet! A swab of your cheek cells will allow you to trace your ancestors back to the bowels of time. Kind of.
It still sounds awesome, and I would still recommend that you get involved with it.
Here's where the problems ensued. As most of you know, I don't have a credit card. Because damn The Man. The kit costs in excess of 100 dollars, and I purchased it online using a prepaid card.
A few weeks later I received an email stating that the "credit card number" I used could not be processed, and to call the customer service number. I did so immediately. What I learned is that, because the card is not associated with a billing address, their system can't process it. Super. Anyway. I told them that I would be sending in an alternate method of payment and not to cancel the order.
The very next day (June 15th) I mailed in a money order for the full amount. I don't have a checking account either. You know what? Stop judging me.
I heard nothing until two weeks later, when I received an email saying exactly the same thing the first email said. The credit card number cannot be processed, please call customer service for assistance. I call customer service again, and speak to two different people and tell the whole story. I tell them that I have already sent in a payment, and please don't cancel my order. Both (like the first one) assured me that they would make notes on the order and that it would not be canceled.
Last night, I received another email. It was sent at 8:45PM EDT. It said that the credit card number could not be processed and as they had contacted me several times about this issue I had to respond that day or else they would assume that I wanted my order canceled. I called them again. Spoke with a fourth person. Explained the whole thing from the beginning. Had this fourth person assure me that my order would not be canceled.
Also, on a whim, I sent a strongly worded reply to the email I received, saying how profoundly disappointed I was with the appallingly unprofessional manner in which this situation had been handled. Seriously, in that email? There were no less than three misspellings, so that when I called customer service, I checked with them to make sure it wasn't spam. In any event, it didn't bounce back, so someone received it. I'm sure it will accomplish nothing, though.
Today. I'm at work. I get an email. They canceled my fucking order. Because the credit card number could not be processed. Cue my head exploding.
I called again, immediately. Spent God knows how long on hold at various times. The problem as it stands now is, of course, they don't have the money order. Even though I sent it exactly as instructed by the very first person I spoke to one month ago. What I get from the chick I'm talking to is that they have not received the money order. They recently moved locations, and maybe it's lost in the shuffle somewhere. Basically, "Waffle, waffle, bullshit." And "she" says that they can only keep the order on hold for so long. "Who is 'she'?" I ask. The girl's supervisor. Can I speak with this supervisor? No, of course not, because the girl is not allowed to transfer calls to the supervisor. I can leave my number, though! Which I did, for the third time. Who wants to wager that I never get a fucking call?
So, as of now, I am out $100+ that these people have lost (I sent it over a month ago - what the fuck, please?), I have no order, and not one of these people knows what the fuck they are doing. At present, I don't know how I can complain more loudly or more vehemently than I have done, but I will find out how and I will do it. Because Jesus Fucking Christ.
On the other hand, I'm totally going into town to chat about Harry Potter later. And I'm getting another new tree for the front of my house, courtesy of the twip.
Do these people think they are good drivers?
Holy crap, two entries in one day! Did you win the lottery or something?
So, of late, I have been employed in a regular type occupation. It is actually pretty cool in the sense that I work with people who are cool. This makes ALL THE DIFFERENCE IN THE ENTIRE WORLD. I've actually found myself (mildly) looking forward to going to work. It's kinda crazy. Not that I want to sell insurance or anything. I'm just saying.
My foray into the 9-5 world (or rather, 9:30-5, or, whatever hours work that day, because if I want them to be different, that's cool, do you see what I mean?) unfortunately means that I am now subject to the maladies of the "rush hour." The good news is that the job only requires about 5-10 minutes of driving, because it's really really close to my house. The bad news is that in those 5-10 minutes, I encounter untold numbers of douchebags and idiots.
Yesterday I was nearly run off the road no fewer than three times. The first fellow was behind me in a monstrous truck. He pulled so close to me that I could only almost see the severed ram's head logo on the front grill. I was stopped at a red light. I was watching the lights to see when they would turn, and I began to move the instant the light became green. And the fucker honked at me. FUCKING HONKED AT ME. Like, what the fuck. A "what is the freaking hold up, you slow moron??" honk, in case that's not clear. I instantly realized that it didn't matter when I started moving, because he had fully planned to honk at me anyway.
The next instance came on a stomach-clenching stretch of road, because it's a 40mph curving road bounded by concrete dividers. You then come to a light where the speed becomes 25mph. It's best not to ask. Anyway, at this light, I turn. Except I wondered if I'd be able to make the turn, as the young man and his jalopy behind me was seemingly attached to my rear bumper. I wasn't really sure if I should try to go faster, or slower, or what. I wondered if he realized that I would need to stop soon. And if he would hit me when that eventuality presented itself. It turned out okay.
The last was on my very street, and I really have no idea what happened. I wanted to go to the post office, but I needed to stop at my house to get something. So I was going to park on my quiet residential street. Instead, I had to kind of swerve over when a blue car was, yet again, upon the very ass of my car. As he sped by, he gave me some incredulous looks and hand gestures, as if *I* were the asshole.
Now, don't get me wrong, I considered that maybe I had gotten drunk or something and had been driving like crap that day. But I wasn't.
Today I watched a car in front of me tail the car ahead of it, with the brake lights flashing every few seconds. That probably wouldn't have happened had the one driver not been up the other one's ass. And that's when this entry's title occurred to me.
Seriously, there are many bad drivers. I really don't like to drive. I find it to be immensely stressful, though perhaps good for my abdominal muscles. And it's not that I don't trust myself. I don't trust other people. And ... do they realize how much they suck? I have to think that if they did, then they would endeavor not to suck anymore. But perhaps they don't know. And if they don't know, *why* don't they know? Why don't they realize who much they fucking suck!
The end.
So, of late, I have been employed in a regular type occupation. It is actually pretty cool in the sense that I work with people who are cool. This makes ALL THE DIFFERENCE IN THE ENTIRE WORLD. I've actually found myself (mildly) looking forward to going to work. It's kinda crazy. Not that I want to sell insurance or anything. I'm just saying.
My foray into the 9-5 world (or rather, 9:30-5, or, whatever hours work that day, because if I want them to be different, that's cool, do you see what I mean?) unfortunately means that I am now subject to the maladies of the "rush hour." The good news is that the job only requires about 5-10 minutes of driving, because it's really really close to my house. The bad news is that in those 5-10 minutes, I encounter untold numbers of douchebags and idiots.
Yesterday I was nearly run off the road no fewer than three times. The first fellow was behind me in a monstrous truck. He pulled so close to me that I could only almost see the severed ram's head logo on the front grill. I was stopped at a red light. I was watching the lights to see when they would turn, and I began to move the instant the light became green. And the fucker honked at me. FUCKING HONKED AT ME. Like, what the fuck. A "what is the freaking hold up, you slow moron??" honk, in case that's not clear. I instantly realized that it didn't matter when I started moving, because he had fully planned to honk at me anyway.
The next instance came on a stomach-clenching stretch of road, because it's a 40mph curving road bounded by concrete dividers. You then come to a light where the speed becomes 25mph. It's best not to ask. Anyway, at this light, I turn. Except I wondered if I'd be able to make the turn, as the young man and his jalopy behind me was seemingly attached to my rear bumper. I wasn't really sure if I should try to go faster, or slower, or what. I wondered if he realized that I would need to stop soon. And if he would hit me when that eventuality presented itself. It turned out okay.
The last was on my very street, and I really have no idea what happened. I wanted to go to the post office, but I needed to stop at my house to get something. So I was going to park on my quiet residential street. Instead, I had to kind of swerve over when a blue car was, yet again, upon the very ass of my car. As he sped by, he gave me some incredulous looks and hand gestures, as if *I* were the asshole.
Now, don't get me wrong, I considered that maybe I had gotten drunk or something and had been driving like crap that day. But I wasn't.
Today I watched a car in front of me tail the car ahead of it, with the brake lights flashing every few seconds. That probably wouldn't have happened had the one driver not been up the other one's ass. And that's when this entry's title occurred to me.
Seriously, there are many bad drivers. I really don't like to drive. I find it to be immensely stressful, though perhaps good for my abdominal muscles. And it's not that I don't trust myself. I don't trust other people. And ... do they realize how much they suck? I have to think that if they did, then they would endeavor not to suck anymore. But perhaps they don't know. And if they don't know, *why* don't they know? Why don't they realize who much they fucking suck!
The end.
Thursday
The fucking news.
Tonight I opted to watch the final investigative report of the late Peter Jennings. First, because I loved Peter Jennings and I miss listening to him. Second, because the topic (the abysmal state of the US’s health insurance system) in one in which I have a vested interest. It was pretty good, despite the fact that I had to switch over to NBC on commercial breaks because my mother wanted to see the outcome of The Apprentice.
Somewhere around minute 40, my local ABC affiliate decided that they needed to bust in with some BREAKING NEWS about the potential transit strike. (Um. There may be a transit strike.) Only, it wasn’t actually news. They wanted to say that there was still no word one way or the other, but that there might been. Soon. Maybe. And then they showed some guy talking, who said essentially the same thing, but in a thick Jamaican accent. And he thanked some people and said a whole array of things in which I had absolutely no interest.
Because I was appalled. I was fucking appalled. ABC made a big deal over this Peter Jennings thing. So I was shocked that they’d cut into in the first place. But this is a local vs. national thing, so I honestly have no idea how it works. But I have never, ever, seen “breaking news” that was actually noteworthy or important. Never.
Some of you may remember (and it is still in my archives) that an Angel episode got interrupted by a similar event, and I completely lost my damn mind over it. Lost my damn mind. I had other things going on. It wasn’t solely the breaking news. But that did play a part. That time, the WB wanted to announce that we we’re at war yet, but we might be. Soon. Maybe.
Perhaps I have a different conception of what “breaking news” is. To me, for a story to be important enough to interrupt my programming, it has to be something that I will care sufficiently enough about to care more about the news than I do about the programming, and to be okay with the fact that my program was interrupted. You know, things like “War Ends” or “President Killed” or “Moon Explodes.” Things like that.
And it’s not that I don’t care about war. It’s not that I don’t care about the potential of a transit strike (though it honestly won’t affect me as much as it will affect people who commute in the city daily, which I do not). It’s that the “news” that they’re breaking in with doesn’t actually give new information about these things. If I wanted a second-by-second account of what was going on, I would be watching a 24-hour news channel. When the news is coming up in 10 or 20 minutes, hold the story . You know they’re just going to recap exactly what they just said when the news at 11 comes on. So what the hell?
Every second of these things annoys me. Because all I can think about is the seconds that I’m losing off the program that I want to see. And first we have to have a logo and theme music. And then the anchors have to talk to us about what we’re about to see. And then we see it. And then the anchors have to discuss what we just saw. And then there has to be the logo and the theme music again. “This has been an ABC news Special Report.” Yeah, thanks guys. Thanks a fucking lot.
It’s almost ironic that I’m judging this aggravation against Mr. Jennings. Because it reminded me how nearly every day there is less and less to like about the news media. I hate Elizabeth Vargas. That’s something else entirely, though.
Oh, Randal won.
Somewhere around minute 40, my local ABC affiliate decided that they needed to bust in with some BREAKING NEWS about the potential transit strike. (Um. There may be a transit strike.) Only, it wasn’t actually news. They wanted to say that there was still no word one way or the other, but that there might been. Soon. Maybe. And then they showed some guy talking, who said essentially the same thing, but in a thick Jamaican accent. And he thanked some people and said a whole array of things in which I had absolutely no interest.
Because I was appalled. I was fucking appalled. ABC made a big deal over this Peter Jennings thing. So I was shocked that they’d cut into in the first place. But this is a local vs. national thing, so I honestly have no idea how it works. But I have never, ever, seen “breaking news” that was actually noteworthy or important. Never.
Some of you may remember (and it is still in my archives) that an Angel episode got interrupted by a similar event, and I completely lost my damn mind over it. Lost my damn mind. I had other things going on. It wasn’t solely the breaking news. But that did play a part. That time, the WB wanted to announce that we we’re at war yet, but we might be. Soon. Maybe.
Perhaps I have a different conception of what “breaking news” is. To me, for a story to be important enough to interrupt my programming, it has to be something that I will care sufficiently enough about to care more about the news than I do about the programming, and to be okay with the fact that my program was interrupted. You know, things like “War Ends” or “President Killed” or “Moon Explodes.” Things like that.
And it’s not that I don’t care about war. It’s not that I don’t care about the potential of a transit strike (though it honestly won’t affect me as much as it will affect people who commute in the city daily, which I do not). It’s that the “news” that they’re breaking in with doesn’t actually give new information about these things. If I wanted a second-by-second account of what was going on, I would be watching a 24-hour news channel. When the news is coming up in 10 or 20 minutes, hold the story . You know they’re just going to recap exactly what they just said when the news at 11 comes on. So what the hell?
Every second of these things annoys me. Because all I can think about is the seconds that I’m losing off the program that I want to see. And first we have to have a logo and theme music. And then the anchors have to talk to us about what we’re about to see. And then we see it. And then the anchors have to discuss what we just saw. And then there has to be the logo and the theme music again. “This has been an ABC news Special Report.” Yeah, thanks guys. Thanks a fucking lot.
It’s almost ironic that I’m judging this aggravation against Mr. Jennings. Because it reminded me how nearly every day there is less and less to like about the news media. I hate Elizabeth Vargas. That’s something else entirely, though.
Oh, Randal won.
Sunday
El Diablo wants me to watch Spanglish .
And I will not do it. This entry really has no point, other than that I don't ever want to watch the film Spanglish . And my reasons have nothing to do with its content or how good or bad it might be. I don't care how good or bad it might be (though I suspect, Cloris Leachman aside, it's probably something I would not enjoy). I just don't want to watch it, because some unseen force has been trying to make me watch it for months.
When I went out to California, this film was shown on just about every single freaking flight I took on the whole trip (four). Some guy was watching it on his laptop on one of my train trips. This movie has been shoved at me, while I've been a captive audience, an unrememborable amount of times. And it's a movie that I never had any intention of seeing. So now it's a thing. A vow.
Last night, Spanglish was premiering on HBO. I was going to be out of the house eating food with my mother, but the lines were too long so we came home and ordered Chinese. And I was confronted with Spanglish once again.
Instead of watching this movie, I opted to watch Dances With Wolves instead. Dances. With freaking Wolves. Now, some of you may know my history with this film. I was dragged along by my parents to see it in theaters when I was 6 or 7 or however old I was when it came out. I remembered nothing of the film except that there was a line to get in, I fell asleep, and the only thing I remember of the story was that at one point a man holds a gun to his head, says, "God Save the King" and shoots himself. And this I only remember because it was at this point that my mother covered my eyes with her hand. And I like to point out that if she had not drawn attention to this, I never would have remembered it, yet because she did, it is now burned permanently into my brain.
Well, now I know what happens in the movie, and my beloved anecdote is ruined. In addition, I spent three hours looking at Kevin Costner's hideous face . All this I did, so that I would not have to watch Spanglish . Were there other options? Probably. But I wasn't thinking clearly.
I know I used a lot of extra-slanty italics in this post, and for that I apologize. I'll have to work on changing the layout of my blog, because it could just be so much more optimal.
When I went out to California, this film was shown on just about every single freaking flight I took on the whole trip (four). Some guy was watching it on his laptop on one of my train trips. This movie has been shoved at me, while I've been a captive audience, an unrememborable amount of times. And it's a movie that I never had any intention of seeing. So now it's a thing. A vow.
Last night, Spanglish was premiering on HBO. I was going to be out of the house eating food with my mother, but the lines were too long so we came home and ordered Chinese. And I was confronted with Spanglish once again.
Instead of watching this movie, I opted to watch Dances With Wolves instead. Dances. With freaking Wolves. Now, some of you may know my history with this film. I was dragged along by my parents to see it in theaters when I was 6 or 7 or however old I was when it came out. I remembered nothing of the film except that there was a line to get in, I fell asleep, and the only thing I remember of the story was that at one point a man holds a gun to his head, says, "God Save the King" and shoots himself. And this I only remember because it was at this point that my mother covered my eyes with her hand. And I like to point out that if she had not drawn attention to this, I never would have remembered it, yet because she did, it is now burned permanently into my brain.
Well, now I know what happens in the movie, and my beloved anecdote is ruined. In addition, I spent three hours looking at Kevin Costner's hideous face . All this I did, so that I would not have to watch Spanglish . Were there other options? Probably. But I wasn't thinking clearly.
I know I used a lot of extra-slanty italics in this post, and for that I apologize. I'll have to work on changing the layout of my blog, because it could just be so much more optimal.
Tuesday
You know, I really hate people.
Some days, I just say that. But on other days, I really mean it.
This is quite the fitting mood, then, with which I can go elect (or not, as the case will probably be) some public leaders. Did I mentioned that I watched the Gubernatorial Debates back ... whenever they had those? Man, that was the most useless hour of my life. Seriously. That's why I'm doing a write-in vote! (Not for Pat, sadly. That's only for president.) Truly exercising my right to throw my vote away. But seriously, all of the major candidates suck so much. It's ridiculous. I'd have rather seen them run footraces and eat live bugs, that's how valuable the whole thing was.
This really doesn't fit into my hateful mood theme, more of an introspective/contemplative mood theme, but I need to get these things out.
I can't believe that I'm as old as I am. Really, I can't. I know that the readership of this blog is people who are up-to-and-including double my age (hee!) but you're just going to have to bear with me on this. I can't believe that I'm not still 15. I can't believe that I'm out of high school. Shit, I can't believe that I'm out of college ! I've been out of school for over a year! Although, to be fair, I guess I kind of cheated on that account. But honestly, I sometimes feel as though I must have misplaced a bunch of years along the way. I suppose this is really the expression of my feeling that I've gotten a delayed start on life. I feel that way too. I feel like what I'm doing with myself now should have been what I was doing with myself at 15. So what did I spend all that time doing? Nothing, apparently.
Then again, you know, I suppose it really isn't too late to go to law school and learn tennis and devote myself entirely to a pre-mapped life that will never bring me joy. I mean, that's still on the table, really.
Wow. Did you know that it's almost 3 o'clock? Days like this are the reason that I sometimes forget to eat. I've been "making myself lunch" for the past two and a half hours.
This is quite the fitting mood, then, with which I can go elect (or not, as the case will probably be) some public leaders. Did I mentioned that I watched the Gubernatorial Debates back ... whenever they had those? Man, that was the most useless hour of my life. Seriously. That's why I'm doing a write-in vote! (Not for Pat, sadly. That's only for president.) Truly exercising my right to throw my vote away. But seriously, all of the major candidates suck so much. It's ridiculous. I'd have rather seen them run footraces and eat live bugs, that's how valuable the whole thing was.
This really doesn't fit into my hateful mood theme, more of an introspective/contemplative mood theme, but I need to get these things out.
I can't believe that I'm as old as I am. Really, I can't. I know that the readership of this blog is people who are up-to-and-including double my age (hee!) but you're just going to have to bear with me on this. I can't believe that I'm not still 15. I can't believe that I'm out of high school. Shit, I can't believe that I'm out of college ! I've been out of school for over a year! Although, to be fair, I guess I kind of cheated on that account. But honestly, I sometimes feel as though I must have misplaced a bunch of years along the way. I suppose this is really the expression of my feeling that I've gotten a delayed start on life. I feel that way too. I feel like what I'm doing with myself now should have been what I was doing with myself at 15. So what did I spend all that time doing? Nothing, apparently.
Then again, you know, I suppose it really isn't too late to go to law school and learn tennis and devote myself entirely to a pre-mapped life that will never bring me joy. I mean, that's still on the table, really.
Wow. Did you know that it's almost 3 o'clock? Days like this are the reason that I sometimes forget to eat. I've been "making myself lunch" for the past two and a half hours.
Labels:
depressive episode,
solipsism,
the rage,
whine and cheese
Wednesday
A haircut, a real job, and the attainment thereof.
So far, I've been paid to have people dress me up and do my hair.
I would have to say that I've definitely chosen the right profession for me. Now all I have to do is do this all the time. And not, say, just this once. We'll see how that goes.
In other news, my real world job told me to fuck off on Monday. Wait. No. That's what I told them. Only, in my head. They said they no longer required my services.
AND I COULD NOT BE HAPPIER.
I would have to say that I've definitely chosen the right profession for me. Now all I have to do is do this all the time. And not, say, just this once. We'll see how that goes.
In other news, my real world job told me to fuck off on Monday. Wait. No. That's what I told them. Only, in my head. They said they no longer required my services.
AND I COULD NOT BE HAPPIER.
Tuesday
God, my eyes!
I just rejected some people. Ouch!
In unrelated news, let me know if this is crazy. When my mother comes home, if the day is "nice" she opens the front door and the back door. And then *locks* the screen door.
Now, only, like, two people reading this have been to my house, but I think my neighborhood is pretty nice. Even though it is in New Jersey. But, honestly. She's sitting right there! No one is breaking in the goddamn house! And if someone was going to do that, I don't think the screen door would be a deterent, because obviously that person would be batshit insane.
So, one of these days when I spent all day in the city and then came home, she was already home. And I couldn't get in the back, because the screen door was locked. And I couldn't get in the front, because the screen door was locked. Like, thank you, mother, for locking me out of the house.
Furthmore, once I managed to get inside, I went up to my room to discover the door wide open, and the window wide open. Now, see, the door I keep closed so that small furry creatures don't come in it. Because I love my cats, but I cannot breathe in hair and dander when I sleep. I'm fine when I'm up and awake, but at night, my allergies go crazy. The window I keep closed for the same reason. The "fresh air" that my mother so thinks I should have is replete with pollen. There is plant matter all around my house. This entire weekend, I could barely see, because my eyes are half glued-shut and bleary. My voice is rough. I feel like crap. AND I'm taking Allegra.
What makes this even more entertaining is that I have told my mother, repeatedly, not to open my window for ... oh... probably the last decade or so. Every single day that she has opened my window for the past ten years, I close it, and I tell her not to open my window. I explain to her why. I have done this over and over and over and over and over. I mean, Jesus Christ! Does she want me to die?
My mother said to me one time, "Why are you allergic to nuts, again?"
BECAUSE I FELT LIKE IT.
God. My eyes are all bloodshot and gross. And I feel so freaking tired. And I think, maybe, you know, I need some energy? For my upcoming things?
Blah.
In unrelated news, let me know if this is crazy. When my mother comes home, if the day is "nice" she opens the front door and the back door. And then *locks* the screen door.
Now, only, like, two people reading this have been to my house, but I think my neighborhood is pretty nice. Even though it is in New Jersey. But, honestly. She's sitting right there! No one is breaking in the goddamn house! And if someone was going to do that, I don't think the screen door would be a deterent, because obviously that person would be batshit insane.
So, one of these days when I spent all day in the city and then came home, she was already home. And I couldn't get in the back, because the screen door was locked. And I couldn't get in the front, because the screen door was locked. Like, thank you, mother, for locking me out of the house.
Furthmore, once I managed to get inside, I went up to my room to discover the door wide open, and the window wide open. Now, see, the door I keep closed so that small furry creatures don't come in it. Because I love my cats, but I cannot breathe in hair and dander when I sleep. I'm fine when I'm up and awake, but at night, my allergies go crazy. The window I keep closed for the same reason. The "fresh air" that my mother so thinks I should have is replete with pollen. There is plant matter all around my house. This entire weekend, I could barely see, because my eyes are half glued-shut and bleary. My voice is rough. I feel like crap. AND I'm taking Allegra.
What makes this even more entertaining is that I have told my mother, repeatedly, not to open my window for ... oh... probably the last decade or so. Every single day that she has opened my window for the past ten years, I close it, and I tell her not to open my window. I explain to her why. I have done this over and over and over and over and over. I mean, Jesus Christ! Does she want me to die?
My mother said to me one time, "Why are you allergic to nuts, again?"
BECAUSE I FELT LIKE IT.
God. My eyes are all bloodshot and gross. And I feel so freaking tired. And I think, maybe, you know, I need some energy? For my upcoming things?
Blah.
Thursday
COMEDY.
Pat, I certainly hope that this was the "other" episode you mentioned. Because. ... Yeah.
[Begin Spoiler for "The Girl In Question" — Highlight to view]
Oh man, the COMEDY! Comedy . This episode was just filled with it, wasn't it? A gay comic romp! An hilarious *caper* if you will. A giggle-a-minute frolic through the--
Oh wait. It wasn't funny.
Is this the reason that some people are so angry at Sarah Michelle Gellar? Because she for some crazy reason decided not to be a part of this gem? Perhaps the fact that the only Buffy cast member they could rope into appearing on this show was Tom Lenk should have been some kind of clue. A clue to not do it.
Seriously, I understand that the show was cancelled. And at this point in time, the writers knew that. So, they probably wanted to try to wrap up the whole of the Buffyverse within this show. And really? That is such a mistake. They ruined Buffy. It crashed into the Pit of Eternal Suck from which there is no return. It's done, over, ruined, desecrated, finished. And they should have left it that way and just moved the fuck on. As I've stated before, I'd prefer just dropping something to handling it poorly. And Angel was doing fine on its own. Even this season, it has not crashed into the Pit of Eternal Suck. (Really, Kirk, it hasn't.) But every time they attempt to bring in elements from that other show, that ruined show, this show skips ever closer to the edge of the pit. See: the enormous gamble that was Spike.
So they should have left it. Because the Suck of the fall of Buffy is so great and powerful that its Suck extends far beyond its ugly and prolonged death. If you invoke its name, you also begin to Suck.
Also, this episode was written and directed like shit and I refuse to speak about it anymore.
So, moving on to the couple of parts that actually had to do with this show: Illyria can assume any shape now? Okay. Since when? Nevermind, I don't care. I'm glad she did, though. Because, 1. They didn't tell Fred's parents?? Holy shit. Nice one guys, nice one. 2. Her parents were so cheery and dumb and the whole tone of the episode was so manic and zany with the COMEDY! that I couldn't have fucking dealt with it if they tried to bring in some serious dramatic themes. Also, Wesley was going to blurt it out like that? I'd glad she stopped him, because he would have sucked at it. So, while the whole thing was kind of weird, it was better than the alternative.
Illyria has the hots for Wesley! Funny! Also, considering that Illyria is, actually, maybe, a boy, this is actually the closest to a boy/boy relationship either show has had. Right? Eh.
There were two things I found funny, though. The flashback to the 50s ("Ciao." "Ciao.") and "You never let us do that!" Okay, fine: Hee. But they were miniscule moments compared to the mind-numbing affront that was the rest of this episode. Someone needs to reel Marsters in. For the love. of. God.
[End Spoiler]
[Begin Spoiler for "The Girl In Question" — Highlight to view]
Oh man, the COMEDY! Comedy . This episode was just filled with it, wasn't it? A gay comic romp! An hilarious *caper* if you will. A giggle-a-minute frolic through the--
Oh wait. It wasn't funny.
Is this the reason that some people are so angry at Sarah Michelle Gellar? Because she for some crazy reason decided not to be a part of this gem? Perhaps the fact that the only Buffy cast member they could rope into appearing on this show was Tom Lenk should have been some kind of clue. A clue to not do it.
Seriously, I understand that the show was cancelled. And at this point in time, the writers knew that. So, they probably wanted to try to wrap up the whole of the Buffyverse within this show. And really? That is such a mistake. They ruined Buffy. It crashed into the Pit of Eternal Suck from which there is no return. It's done, over, ruined, desecrated, finished. And they should have left it that way and just moved the fuck on. As I've stated before, I'd prefer just dropping something to handling it poorly. And Angel was doing fine on its own. Even this season, it has not crashed into the Pit of Eternal Suck. (Really, Kirk, it hasn't.) But every time they attempt to bring in elements from that other show, that ruined show, this show skips ever closer to the edge of the pit. See: the enormous gamble that was Spike.
So they should have left it. Because the Suck of the fall of Buffy is so great and powerful that its Suck extends far beyond its ugly and prolonged death. If you invoke its name, you also begin to Suck.
Also, this episode was written and directed like shit and I refuse to speak about it anymore.
So, moving on to the couple of parts that actually had to do with this show: Illyria can assume any shape now? Okay. Since when? Nevermind, I don't care. I'm glad she did, though. Because, 1. They didn't tell Fred's parents?? Holy shit. Nice one guys, nice one. 2. Her parents were so cheery and dumb and the whole tone of the episode was so manic and zany with the COMEDY! that I couldn't have fucking dealt with it if they tried to bring in some serious dramatic themes. Also, Wesley was going to blurt it out like that? I'd glad she stopped him, because he would have sucked at it. So, while the whole thing was kind of weird, it was better than the alternative.
Illyria has the hots for Wesley! Funny! Also, considering that Illyria is, actually, maybe, a boy, this is actually the closest to a boy/boy relationship either show has had. Right? Eh.
There were two things I found funny, though. The flashback to the 50s ("Ciao." "Ciao.") and "You never let us do that!" Okay, fine: Hee. But they were miniscule moments compared to the mind-numbing affront that was the rest of this episode. Someone needs to reel Marsters in. For the love. of. God.
[End Spoiler]
Tuesday
[is confused ]
[Begin Spoiler for "Why We Fight" — Highlight to view]
Dear Mutant Enemy: Are you dicking with me?
What was the point of all that? Can someone explain that?
I feel that this entire episode was ill-advised.
[End Spoiler]
[Begin Spoiler for an edit of further thoughts — Highlight to view]
So, this episode was boring and lame. But moreover, it just bothered me. Because of the Nazis. It wasn't really that bad an episode. I can't rant and say it was horrible and devastating, because, really, it was just sort of ... there. But I've decided that I am fundamentally opposed to using Nazis as a plot device . It bothers me. So, I was unsettled by this episode. Why did they have to go there? Is my point.
So, Gunn is losing his lawyer knowledge. THIS IS OBVIOUS. (Unless it turns out that I'm wrong. Heh.) But, THIS IS OBVIOUS. It's one of the most obvious things that were ever obvious. Why? Because that was so completely unsubtle. About as subtle as Wesley calling Knox untrustworthy. GET IT? Because he likes Fred and is jealous of Knox! Which is why he's making such subtle comments about it! Both these lines had all the subtley of a sledgehammer. Gunn didn't stumble over that line like he was tired. He stumbled over it like his magically implanted legal knowledge was on the blink. That line serves no other person. BECAUSE IT IS SO OBVIOUS.
This episode did not do a lot to keep me awake this morning. As such, it wasn't until I was reading the TWoP recap just now that learned that some potentially amusing things were in there. Like when Angel said and wasn't going to be trapped at the bottom of the ocean, and Spike replied that he wasn't going to be experimented on by the government. Heh. Yeah, it's easy, but also amusing. Also, I missed the following gem from The Prince of Lies: "I will suck the brain from your skull and digest your thoughts like a sour pudding." Because, seriously? That line is awesome. If only I could get it to apply to more situations, I'd use it all the time. I also like the TWoP assessment of the actor, that he did a great impression of Willem Dafoe doing a great impression of Count Orlock. It's so true. I'm so sad he and the other guy died. They entertained me, and were the best thing about this episode. Oh, you know what else amused me, though? When the chap stated that he knew Angel when he was in his "patriotic phase" and then we immediately flash back to Angel sitting amongst newspapers looking solemn. Apparently, this wasn't meant to be funny, but it cracked me up, because I thought that *was* Angel in patriotic mode. Sort of like those posters that show "The Many Moods of Cats" where they have "happy," "sleepy," "patriotic," etc., and it's all the same face? That's what I thought they were doing here, and I was highly entertained. Oops.
In other news, Spike is stupid. Remember way back in School Hard when he figured Angel out and angrily shouted, "You think you can fool me?" Well, obviously Angel thought so because he's been so successful at it so many times in the past. I mean, yeesh. Seriously. I think Angel's guard should have been up. I think they had ample room to show Angel doing things that Spike could interpret as sadistic, but they didn't, and it just made everyone look stupid.
One point of contention, though: apparently everyone thinks Lawson's line about "blah blah blah, only your führer could come up with something like this, blah blah" was about experimenting on demons. What? Why would he care? I thought it was pretty obvious that he was talking about (and seriously, I hate even typing this, hate hate hate) the Nazis using demons as an army, to help them win the war. And the irony, of course (hate hate hate) is that the US Government, the "good guys" are doing the same thing - using evil to help them win the war. Which is again brought up by Lawson's assertion that there's a difference between fighting to win (which includes using whatever means necessary, like utilizing something evil) and fighting because you're moral and you're trying to do the right thing. AND OF COURSE, this directly corresponds to the whole Wolfram and Hart thing. They're utilizing something evil because they want to win at all costs. But what are the costs? Apparently, the costs are that you become no better than Nazis.
Can I state again how much I fucking hate the "using the Nazis" concept? HATE HATE HATE. But, anyway, yeah, there you go. THIS WAS ALSO OBVIOUS. Which is why it was so unnecessary. We know all this already! So what's with the redundacy, and what's with the fucking Nazis? Jesus!
[End Spoiler]
I'm done now.
Dear Mutant Enemy: Are you dicking with me?
What was the point of all that? Can someone explain that?
I feel that this entire episode was ill-advised.
[End Spoiler]
[Begin Spoiler for an edit of further thoughts — Highlight to view]
So, this episode was boring and lame. But moreover, it just bothered me. Because of the Nazis. It wasn't really that bad an episode. I can't rant and say it was horrible and devastating, because, really, it was just sort of ... there. But I've decided that I am fundamentally opposed to using Nazis as a plot device . It bothers me. So, I was unsettled by this episode. Why did they have to go there? Is my point.
So, Gunn is losing his lawyer knowledge. THIS IS OBVIOUS. (Unless it turns out that I'm wrong. Heh.) But, THIS IS OBVIOUS. It's one of the most obvious things that were ever obvious. Why? Because that was so completely unsubtle. About as subtle as Wesley calling Knox untrustworthy. GET IT? Because he likes Fred and is jealous of Knox! Which is why he's making such subtle comments about it! Both these lines had all the subtley of a sledgehammer. Gunn didn't stumble over that line like he was tired. He stumbled over it like his magically implanted legal knowledge was on the blink. That line serves no other person. BECAUSE IT IS SO OBVIOUS.
This episode did not do a lot to keep me awake this morning. As such, it wasn't until I was reading the TWoP recap just now that learned that some potentially amusing things were in there. Like when Angel said and wasn't going to be trapped at the bottom of the ocean, and Spike replied that he wasn't going to be experimented on by the government. Heh. Yeah, it's easy, but also amusing. Also, I missed the following gem from The Prince of Lies: "I will suck the brain from your skull and digest your thoughts like a sour pudding." Because, seriously? That line is awesome. If only I could get it to apply to more situations, I'd use it all the time. I also like the TWoP assessment of the actor, that he did a great impression of Willem Dafoe doing a great impression of Count Orlock. It's so true. I'm so sad he and the other guy died. They entertained me, and were the best thing about this episode. Oh, you know what else amused me, though? When the chap stated that he knew Angel when he was in his "patriotic phase" and then we immediately flash back to Angel sitting amongst newspapers looking solemn. Apparently, this wasn't meant to be funny, but it cracked me up, because I thought that *was* Angel in patriotic mode. Sort of like those posters that show "The Many Moods of Cats" where they have "happy," "sleepy," "patriotic," etc., and it's all the same face? That's what I thought they were doing here, and I was highly entertained. Oops.
In other news, Spike is stupid. Remember way back in School Hard when he figured Angel out and angrily shouted, "You think you can fool me?" Well, obviously Angel thought so because he's been so successful at it so many times in the past. I mean, yeesh. Seriously. I think Angel's guard should have been up. I think they had ample room to show Angel doing things that Spike could interpret as sadistic, but they didn't, and it just made everyone look stupid.
One point of contention, though: apparently everyone thinks Lawson's line about "blah blah blah, only your führer could come up with something like this, blah blah" was about experimenting on demons. What? Why would he care? I thought it was pretty obvious that he was talking about (and seriously, I hate even typing this, hate hate hate) the Nazis using demons as an army, to help them win the war. And the irony, of course (hate hate hate) is that the US Government, the "good guys" are doing the same thing - using evil to help them win the war. Which is again brought up by Lawson's assertion that there's a difference between fighting to win (which includes using whatever means necessary, like utilizing something evil) and fighting because you're moral and you're trying to do the right thing. AND OF COURSE, this directly corresponds to the whole Wolfram and Hart thing. They're utilizing something evil because they want to win at all costs. But what are the costs? Apparently, the costs are that you become no better than Nazis.
Can I state again how much I fucking hate the "using the Nazis" concept? HATE HATE HATE. But, anyway, yeah, there you go. THIS WAS ALSO OBVIOUS. Which is why it was so unnecessary. We know all this already! So what's with the redundacy, and what's with the fucking Nazis? Jesus!
[End Spoiler]
I'm done now.
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