This Is 40?

Hello, my sweet...yes it has been a while since we've seen each other.

Sadly, I feel it may be a while until we see each other again, and I suspect it will happen when I least expect or plan it.  The fact is there's too much to do, too many things to draw my focus, and not enough time to spend frivolously on observational humor, web links, and found photos.

Don't get me wrong, I've enjoyed every minute of it, and it has been as much an identity and ideology as any truly dedicated endeavor, but there are times that you recognize where a cycle starts and ends, and for now, this is a good point to make that mark.

It was difficult to allow this to fade away and phase out, the process becoming outwardly evident over the last year and a half with the inconsistent postings, but for me, it was harder because this fit perfectly into the spot reserved for self indulgence and exacerbated by a(n) (un)healthy obsessive / compulsive streak.  Once, it was imperative to make those multiple posts - up to 10 a day, in order to satisfy that urge, and even when that was broken and a more reasonable three were made, it was something that took some adjustment to be capable of.

So today I'm marking my 40th birthday, and like so many symbolic gestures, it occurred to me that it was timely, or at least time, to acknowledge the true pleasure and love I've had curating IOvUF, and for any and every single person who took the time to read a post.  And before we bookend this with a look back to the origin, I'll liberate, er, appropriate this perfectly poignant and spot-on speech by the late-and-always-great Dave "Oderus Urungus" Brockie for some context:

Nothing has changed...nothing has changed here.  We're still the wonderful, down-to-Earth, kinda motherfucking homosexual, butt-raping, dogfucking, kinda motherfuckers you love.  And let me tell you one thing...if any of you guys, or any of you girls, wanna come backstage after the show - get sucked, fucked, smoke some crack - it's okay by me.

Now, without any further ado, take it away guys...

Tuesday, April 17, 2007: Revisiting The Big Bang

Really, it was more like the Big Whimper, but nonetheless my sense of wasting time triumphed over productivity and I shat out Living To Die. The concept was based on a combination of things The Good Doctor and I humored ourselves with, starting with the poignant final words of Roy Batty -- “time to die”. And much like the realization that all our moments and memories will eventually be lost like tears in the rain, so was the reaction and cynical afterbirth of the LTD philosophy – necessary and immutably true.

The mantra was a follows:

First you are born. Then you have a pretty good time for about 25 years. Then it is time for you to fucking die. I didn't make the rules. But I will enforce them.

In a sickly, sensible way it worked. The futility of jobs. The failure of relationships. The sacrifice of watching your dreams die. Nobody said that it was going to be easy, but no one said that it was going to be this hard, and at least we had the forethought to remember to smile stupidly while we were taking the beating. Yes, it sounds morbidly pessimistic, but it’s not.

Meanwhile, back in the oft-forgotten MAGNAband forums, I was hacking and slashing away at the same stupid brutality that life provides as both sport and amusement daily. In the hope of stunning people into thinking with radically sensible ideas I ingratiated myself with Schadenfreude. Sadly, some twat on Blogger has already claimed that perch on the web, and she actually thinks that her own pathetic, dull misfortune is going to provide us glee. News flash, sweetie – there is zero interest in your blandness. I’ve been in traffic that was more interesting that the pointlessness of your existence, and the fact you lucked into camping on one of the most kick ass site names is tragic. Let us all hope nothing but the worst for she who volunteered to be the schadenfreude touchstone, as it is by default no less than what she deserves for making such an egregious claim. Yet we digress…

In spite of a set of misanthropic tendencies, egotistical embellishment, keen awareness of stupidity and a lack of regard for restraint or correctness as a result, I have made the next evolutionary step philosophically. For a long time I fixated on the concept of an immovable object and an unstoppable force, and their inherent opposition to each other, which fit perfectly with my quasi-dualistic reasoning (which like the Soul Coughing song of the same name postulates “Is Chicago, Is Not Chicago” – and that’s loose meta-logic). The dichotomy is still there – living to die, as is the contrast of two concepts, but IOvUF is the examination of the complete nature of opposition, of being both caught between either side as well as being objectively aware of it.

Granted, all of that is a touch excessive given the overt applications here – satire, mockery, criticism, enlightenment, adoration, and creativity – not some revelatory direction in which to restyle my (your) existence. But we’re all still living to die, so while this may be nothing more than another voice for the vocal, it has changed, and for that I take pause to note -- before -- it is time to die.