RE: My Blog's New Title/Theme

I was getting a little tired of using my poor excuse for an imagination to exaggerate and recount events in class. I haven't really picked a new theme to go by, so it'll just be a hodgepodge of stuff.

Also, you may have noticed that my blog name now mentions Abe Vigoda, the famed actor. There's really not much meaning behind it other than I respect him and the fact that he's still alive (http://www.abevigoda.com/).

Below: Abe Vigoda blesses humanity by appearing on a slice of bread.

The Problems of the Marquette Dining Experience (or, Edward Sharpe & The Magnetic Zeros suck; or, I'm Really Grumpy and I Apologize For The Following Choice Words I Have That Are Bound To Only Make Me Seem Like A Big Doucher; or, I'm Really Sorry You Like The Song "Home", I'm Just A Music Nerd With Too Much Time On My Hands)

It's always difficult writing for this blog, usually because everyone and anyone who reads this is already in my class, and so trying to recount previous classes just seems like it could be really redundant (which isn't the most attractive adjective in the English language). Nevertheless, I'm laying in my bed, listening to the Girls EP, Broken Dreams Club (which is probably the best short release of the year), and trying not fall asleep--this is only significant because I have to (a) piss like a race horse, (b) finish this post.

ANYWAY, I'm pretty excited to go back home (HUGE DIGRESSION: speaking of home, I really hate the band, Edward Sharpe & The Magnetic Zeros. They're terrible, inessential, and more overrated than Kings of Leon--who suck even more. The song Home by said band is probably one of the worst songs to have come out within the past year. If I had a dollar for every girl in Uggs and a Northface who sang that godforsaken song, Haiti would be the richest country in the Western Hemisphere. Note to record labels: have a back and forth duet between a man and a woman concerning cheesy, brainless emotions; you will make fucking millions while exposing thousands of kids who think they listen to good music. END DIGRESSION.), where non-Sodexo food and a larger bed await. Don't get me wrong, Marquette's food prowess--or lack there of--and use of beds that kids in the third world would find uncomfortable are charming in the Stockholm Syndrome kind of way, but it'd be nice to get a change of pace. I'm human, I can only handle MU "food" for periods no longer than 4 weeks; at that point, I might purposely eat tapeworm eggs just so I don't have to worry about intestinal problems (yes, I realize I'm talking about fairly personal stuff right here, but it needs to be said).

How my intestines (after eating NORMAL food) would look if they were represented by a cartoon character:

 "Herp Derp, m3 l1k3y g00d füd."

How I'm single is beyond me...

This One's Long; Ergo, Makes Up For My Lack of Blogging The Past Few Weeks

(Preface: I'm PURPOSELY trying to be a dick in all of my posts, so I hope the people that actually read this don't think I'm one; albeit, the fact that I said that is pretty dickly.)

This week, Bill Frakes--the marginally famous Sports Illustrated photographer--came to our class for a bit of a question-and-answer forum. Despite some oft-condescending comments ("I can get a hold of someone at the White House whenever I want"), Frakes had a lot of pertinent things to say about the the future of journalism; more specifically, the use of multimedia as an advantage.

Unfortunately, our projector was most likely made in Soviet-Era Russia, so we could not view Frakes photos and videos on it. However, he had his laptop, and so the class had to crowd around it like homeless people at Quizno's for "Free Quizno's Day."

Frakes was adamant on the thought that our generation lives in the most exciting time in Journalism (which would be completely true if it weren't for the fact that 4/5ths of us will probably be making sandwiches at Quizno's since the job market is about as stable as Courtney Love). On a more optimistic note, Frakes showed us a hilarious production concerning the Nascar way of life.

(Digression: The Nascar way of life is a charming piece of Americana. I mean, think about it: nothing is more American than booze, tits, Jeff Gordon, and fast cars. I'm serious about this, I'm not trying to be cynically ironic; I truly enjoyed watching that video. It's those little subcultures that make this country what it's meant to be: A collection of contrastive ideas and ideals blended together.)

We actually did learn a fair amount from Bill Frakes, especially the importance of teaching yourself. Unfortunately, I don't possess the sort of discipline (because I have the attention span of a squirrel) to do that.