Take Risks. What Else Are You Here For?
I know a thousand people terrified to jump out of a plane, tell a story onstage, quit a job they aren’t suited for, move away from an established stomping ground. I know a thousand people and they all know a thousand people who, in turn know another thousand who fear risking humiliation or failure than to step up and step out and do something risky or stupid or both in pursuit of a goal that may not seem reasonable.
I Believe… [No. You Come See MY Show...]
…that in the wake of goodbyes and farewells associated with leaving Chicago, your request that I come see your show before I leave is just so baldly self-promotional it renders me cold and crunchy.
The Lack of any Viable Alternatives Makes the Smirking Kid Cement His Ideology
Yeah, I hear you. You were far more evolved when you were sixteen. You were whipsmart and filled with the lazy cynicism and biting wit of every episode of The Gilmore Girls. Instead of reacting with fear or rage or righteous indignation, you’d be the Martin Luther King of teenagers and calmly put the thing to rest.
I Believe… [154 Days Per Bullet]
…that six and three-quarters years is not a sentence for sixteen shots.
Did I Say “Hot Room?”
A Parent/Teacher Conference. Mom stands next to Dad, looking slightly annoyed. Dad, on the other hand, looks pissed. And the eighth grade turd who frequently stirs up trouble in class and is thereby the target of some of my more creative punitive measures, is looking so pleased that Mr. Hall is finally going to get it.
Do You Weigh as Much as a Duck?
The concept that if I say my pain is real, it must be real, and if you don't suffer from my pain, my pain is in some part your fault so just listen to me as I yell in your face about your need for shame and contrition.
I Believe… [But Th-Th-They Do It, Too!]
…that the act of pointing out the bad behavior of others when confronted with your own is the act of a child. This is true for presidents, improv comedians, and people caught littering.
You Can't Blowfish Your Way Outta This Mess
When the Universe grants the food pellets to the rats who squall the most vociferously the message is simple and obvious. Blowfish the shit out of your daily problems. Go online and type your grievances ALL IN CAPS SO THAT EVERYONE KNOWS HOW GODDAMN PISSED YOU ARE!
“You aren't Going to Tell My Mom, are You?"
And then I saw her. Standing casually next to a guy in a T-shirt, looking around for a customer to lap dance for ten dollars in the room. It was Nora. “Holy shit!” I thought. “What is she... fifteen? Did she see me? How do I get outta here?”
I Believe… [The Monotony of Public Outrage]
…that when outrage becomes so normal and monotonous that the expression of it is merely annoying rather than inspiring, perhaps a step back is necessary. I’m not tone policing, I’m tone suggesting.
Why Bird Box Is A Great Horror Flick
The list can go on forever but the essential point is that best of the horror genre refuse to define exactly what the monster terrorized the flawed humans is and allows the viewer to play the game.
The Big Fish and Von Freeman
The Big Fish swims in the Little Pond and, because he is a fish, he has no idea how small the pond is nor how small he is in the context of other ponds. When he is uplifted and thrown into a far larger pond (or a lake or an ocean) the inflated self-image shatters with the sound of Von Freeman casually stating the obvious in front of a room filled with strangers.
The Crack Is Not the Mirror
Focusing on the smallest of exceptions as endemic of the whole is a broken mirror. Back away from the mirror and the cracks seem less daunting. The closer you get, the more horrifying you look and the more the cracks supersede the purpose of the mirror itself.
I Believe... [Advertisers Should Die Uncomfortably]
..that after spending a week plus in Kansas, I can say that the worst thing about this country and the lives of a vast swath of its citizens is having to endure television advertising. Fucking Geico commercials can destroy even Godfather Part II. It’s like having an annoying 14-year old keep interrupting your show every fifteen minutes to poke you in the chest repeatedly, make armpit farts, and twerk to mouth-made beats. For three fucking hours.
Literate Ape Year End Review 2018
So, in tribute to what many will look back upon as a year spent eating their emotions in the form of Hot Pockets and brie and drinking from the swill bucket to make the pain go away, here are the top ten reads of Literate Ape from 2018:
The Word of 2018 was “WTF?”
CNN announced that the word of 2018 was “Justice.” I’ve read on Medium that the word of 2018 was “Trauma,” “Resist,” and “Moments.” Also, “Truth,” “Rage,” Fuck,” and “Listen.”
All wrong.
Las Vegas Stinks... of Possibility
One of the most asked questions I’ve been fielding lately in this new pursuit for a home in the Mojave is “Why Vegas?” proffered in the same way one would ask you why I was wearing that gold sequined tube top to church or why I got that Joey Laurence neck tattoo.
The Best of The Ape 2018 | Virgins Are Monsters
Literate Ape is a small digital rag and, while we’d love nothing more to be a huge digital rag, we’re proud of the writing in every case. In this article, I’d like to showcase a few pieces of phenomenal merit that, in the din of constant internet writing going on these days, you might have missed but are well worth your time reading.
Unforging Marley's Chain: Rewriting the Script
For me, it's those fucking chains of Marley that give me pause. Link by link, and yard by yard. The chain we forge in life.
I Believe… [Christmas Layoffs Are the Spawn of Hell]
…that any company that fires someone just before Christmas should be burned to the ground. That includes lauded comedy institutions, banks, orphanages, and indie record stores.
Just curious… Is Baron Trump registered for the draft? If not, it looks like he will be. I just hope he doesn’t develop bone spurs and can become the war hero his father views himself as.