The Book of Matt: The LOL Rule

And the MATT spake upon the vigineth one, and thrice she respondeth “LOL”.  MATT sayeth, woman, thou art unworthy of my gifts.  If thou care not to reply with earnest love, thou are to be cast out into the darkness, for cursed are those who reply in thoughtless brevity.  May thine digits burn with the venom of one hundred asps.

Guys, the “LOL Rule” is something I thought up after dealing with several needy girls that only cared about bitching to me on AIM.  The routine with these girls was always the same: they’d complain endlessly about some insignificant and pointless problem, and then once I finally calmed them down, they wouldn’t continue the conversation.  When it came time to actively and casually converse, they would pull the most epic copout in the history of chatting: the LOL.

Before we get ahead of ourselves, let me make something clear, I’m not anti-LOL.  Far from it. All things considered, the “LOL Rule” is a bit of a misnomer, but frankly, “The Single Word, Single Line of Text Rule” sounds fucking stupid.  Plus, nine times out of ten, LOL is the culprit, so it takes the titular blame.  When used correctly, LOL can quickly show the other person that a particular comment was funny, and that because they are laughing so hard, they can’t physically convey their laughter.  Sadly, LOL has become a euphemism for “I don’t give a shit but I don’t want to be rude”: a shameful display of cowardice and lack of consideration. Why are women such scumbags?

The famous philosopher and Peanut’s pianist Schroeder once posed this timeless question to the female sex in the Peanut’s Easter Special when he asked Lucy, “What’s the matter with you? All you think about is “gimme, gimme, gimme; get, get, get”!”  Brilliantly, the question and the answer were one in the same.  What’s wrong with women is that they generally think in “gimme, gimme, gimme; get, get, get” terms.  Women don’t really want to talk; they want you, as a man, to rationally and logically diffuse their problems so they can scamper off and watch Sex in the City.  You took precious time away from Call of Duty to listen to their problems, and then don’t even have the common decency to talk with you afterwards.  “Gimme, gimme, gimme; get, get, get”. Well men, there needs to be a method of combating this flagrant conversational injustice, therefore, I humbly present to you, the LOL Rule:

1.) If, in any form of electronic conversation, a female responds using a single line of text consisting of one word, it is your God given right to not respond until they continue the conversation with more text.

2.) If you feel the need to continue the conversation after violation has been identified (for whatever ill-thought reason), you are not to respond until five minutes has passed.  This waiting period is to give the female time to reflect on her wrongful actions through your absence.

3.) If a second single line, single word response is given again in conversation, it is time to take into consideration how valuable this girl is to your life.  Two categories exist, valuable girls and non-valuable girls

Example: family members, girls who owe you money, and girls you are 65% sure will sleep with you are valuable.  Most others are not.

4.) Valuable girls can be given a third chance; non-valuable girls should only be given two chances.  Each time, the five minute reflection period should be imposed.

5.) Once the female in question has exhausted the reasonable number of chances that you have granted her, promptly end the conversation without any notification.  Do not electronically converse with this girl for a period of one week.

6.)  During this time it is only permissible to respond to the female’s inquiry of your online absence by explaining to her what she has done wrong.  This response should be no longer than a single sentence.  Remember, neglecting the female is a tool to show her the error of her ways as well as how deal with problems by herself.

7.)  The LOL Rule does not apply to salutations, farewells, and in cases that one would reasonably justify a female’s use of multiple single word, single line responses (I can’t think of any, but women find themselves in some weird scenarios).

—Matt the Wise

Reviews in a Few Sentences

King Crimson – Discipline:

The extremely eclectic King Crimson has always been a “band” that teeters on the brink of self-destruction at any given moment. After several lineup changes and a complete reboot in sound, Robert Fripp and whatever musicians he felt like bringing along return with Discipline, a Talking Heads-esque new wave album that is as pretentious as it is brilliant. Even though it’s a radical change of pace from previous classics like In the Court of the Crimson King and Red, the heart and soul of the “band” is remains intact through their distinct sound: experimental prog with mathematical execution.

Death Cab for Cutie – Narrow Stairs:

Everyone I’ve ever known has spewed nothing but praise for Death Cab, so when I sat down to listen to Narrow Stairs I was shocked at how utterly bland and forgettable this album is. First off, Ben Gibbard’s vocals are almost comical: I can’t tell if he planned to oversing every song or he just fell in love with his own voice and is trying to show the world. Aside from that, the band seemed to stop caring after Cath… (which I enjoyed), so I stopped caring as well.

John Lennon and Yoko Ono – Double Fantasy:

For years people have told me that love is blind…apparently love is also deaf. After a long hiatus, John Lennon returned with Yoko Ono to create Double Fantasy, a testament to the musical brilliance of John Lennon, and the musical ineptness of Yoko Ono. With the invention of MP3’s and customizable playlists, it is now possible to listen to the album the way it should have been heard roughly 30 years ago…without Ono’s painful “contributions”.

Primus – Pork Soda:

“Grab yourself a can of pork soda, You’ll be feeling just fine, Ain’t nothin’ quite like sittin’ ’round the house, Swillin’ down them cans of swine.” Fittingly, Primus, like pork soda, is an acquired taste…seriously… if you can somehow get into their strange amalgamation of funk, bluegrass, metal, and all things atonal, you’re in for a real treat. Pork Soda is Primus’s darkest release, a grimy look into the early 90’s experimental scene. To the casual listener, it’s their least accessible album and probably not the best place to start. For those with a more diverse musical palette, however, the bass line in “My Name is Mud” is worth the price of the disc alone.

The Who – The Who Sell Out:

The Who Sell Out has the unfortunate problem of not being named Tommy, Who’s Next, or Quadrophenia. That said, it’s a fucking brilliant album. Through some psychedelic divine intervention, Pete Townshend managed to fuse commercial parody and rock music into something remarkably unconventional and fresh. Statement: The Who Sell Out is perhaps the greatest marriage of humor and musicianship in the history of rock n’ roll.

Alice in Chains – Black Gives Way to Blue:

Alice in Chains first release in 14 years is a bittersweet listen of sorts.  On one hand Black clearly demonstrates that Jerry Cantrell was driving force behind the band’s sound all those years ago…and that he’s still got it.  On the other hand, the album gives you feeling that something is out of place and leaves you wanting more.  Make not mistake about it, Black is a good album; it just has the unfortunate side effect of making you want to run to AiC’s earlier works instead of paying attention it.

-Matt

The Formula: Metallica Albums

Haven’t hammered out a formula post in awhile, and have been in a metal mood lately, so I figured Metallica was a good place to start.  And so it goes:

Ride the Lightning > …And Justice for All > Load > Master of Puppets > Kill ‘em All > Black Album > Death Magnetic > Reload > The Lars Ulrich farting on a snare drum EP > St. Anger

After going back and listening to every Metallica album I own, I cannot stress enough how underrated Load is, how overrated Black Album is, and how utterly terrible St. Anger is.  If St. Anger was a math formula, it would be as follows:

(Ride the Lightning – guitar solos + terrible vocals – production value – enjoyability + Nu Metal edge – credibility ) x 1.6 minutes = St. Anger

—Matt

Group Review: Creed – Full Circle

Back in the day we used to fight to the death over picks for the PtP Hall of Fame, today I think it’s time to start bringing back some of that animosity through group reviews (even though this outing is pretty one-sided…).  The format is simple: each person gets a few sentences to review a particular album, game, or movie…being concise is key.

Back in the day Creed was one of my favorite bands. Maybe it was a grunge thing or just the stage in my life; but now I realize that “My Own Prison” was a good album and this is not.  Creed, when it started, was a grunge band and as the albums went on they lost more and more of that identity. This album has few songs that even come close to salvaging it with songs like “Away in Silence” and “On my Sleeve” which is just ironic to hear someone like Scott Stapp trying to convey. Not a fan. —Pat

Is this the musical train wreck that I expected it to be?  No.  Admittedly, I actually enjoyed the opening track “Overcome”. That said, Stapp and co. are back again with yet another formulaic, generic, post-grunge album that blatantly sounds like it was ripped out of the late 90’s (they’ve gone Full Circle…get it?).  Years since their last release and “blessed” with the opportunity to move forward, refine, and reinvent, Creed has chosen to do none of the above, delivering a pretty average album that no one really asked for. — Matt

It’s been seven years since we have seen a new album from Creed. After listening to “Full Circle” though, it feels like just yesterday I was being disappointed by them. I remember when I used to like Stapp’s vocals, now they seem more like an annoying habit…not bad at first, but with every whiny word it makes me want to hurt something. Stapp aside, I do enjoy the music itself. Maybe with some new vocals…ah…never mind. —Arnold

Creed has all the components of a great band killer guitar, sick drums, and awesome, albeit douche, vocals. I enjoyed Overcome, catchy get stuck in your head sort of song. Then it just became repetitive, same lame guitar, stupid drums, and dick sucking vocals. After 5 tracks I found myself reaching for the skip button. Full Circle isn’t bad if you don’t care about music and just want something annoying playing in the background, but for me it’s a fail. I would much rather listen to Tommy a 1000 times over, at least The Who are willing to venture out and play a different guitar rift. Creed came full circle, they still suck. —Dan

The current alt-rock landscape has left me in a strange position: I want to be somewhat forgiving of Creed for the simple fact that they play their own instruments. I’ll meet you halfway Mr. Stapp and ignore the embarrassing messianic posturing if you make a radio song with a guitar solo.  The opening track ‘Overcome’ for instance, rocks significantly harder than anything on the new Three Days Grace album, but several ballads on the album sound like bad Daughtry. If you loved Transformers 2, buy it now. If you have good taste, however, keep wandering the alt-rock wasteland. —Anthony

The Zombie Apocalypse (Part Quatre)

The triumphant return of zombies baby!  As you’ve come to expect, here are three infuriating problems that zombies will fix as well as a completely arbitrary rating system to make this post seem more thought out than it really is.

Problem: Gun Haters
Urgency: 2 Candy Coated Zombie Heads

Anti Gun people are a real pain in the ass…I don’t even own a gun and they piss me off. These people run around stupidly assuming that it’s the guns fault when someone gets shot. It’s ridiculous! If I run down someone with a car, should cars be banned? How about if I cook someone a big juicy hamburger and they die of a heart attack, should stoves and grills been banned as well? How about we go around banning everything that can kill people, how’s that sound shithead? Sure, it can’t be the individual’s fault that something went wrong; it has to be an inanimate objects fault. Follow this line of thinking long enough and it becomes readily apparent how stupid these people really are. Anti Gun people run around trying to take things away from people while at the same time assuming people aren’t capable of being responsible for their actions. In the end it might a take a few zombies to show them the error of their ways…

Solution: Zombies Zombies Zombies! When Zombies strike these pansies are going to be caught with their pants down. Sure, I don’t own a gun, but at the same time I haven’t spent my life trying to take other peoples away, my arsenal toting friends might not mind parting way with a shotgun or two if I say please or perform oral favors. But gun haters, however, are good as dead.  Who’s gonna want to help them out, and if they do stumble upon a gun, its not like they will know how to fire it. Good luck trying to stop zombies using harsh language. If the zombies don’t get to these defenseless pussies than proud gun owners will. Rumor on the street is, Arnold has killed eighteen of these spineless jellyfishes in his day…you got some catching up to do zombies.

The last thought that ran through these panicked, pant-suited activists mind's was "Fuck, I could really use a gun right now."

Problem: Hipsters

Urgency: 5 PBR Soaked Zombie Heads

Hipsters are a fucking joke. Every time I see one passing me in the mall, I get the sudden urge to beat the self indulgent, pseudo-intellectual smugness right out of them. The only reason why I stop myself is that I know punching someone with 2% body fat will be like fighting a stack of brooms at Home Depot…plus my fists would smell like b.o. and cigarettes afterwards. Hipsters spend their entire day in coffee shops pretending not to care, when in fact their lives are spent caring too much about appearing smart and unique…they failed. These idiots are as smart and unique as the next pretentious, piece of shit hipster that walks around in skin tight pants and thick rimmed glasses bitching about everything mainstream. Although their fashion sense, grooming, and general thought processes are grounds for extermination, the fact that they think drinking PBR makes them cool puts them way over the line…as a half-hick Mainer I take offense to them hijacking of this super cheap beer. What next, Natty Light? Fuck you hipsters!

Solution: Although this may be a yet another example of fixing a problem with another problem, a global zombie epidemic would surely cure the global douchebag epidemic that seems to be spreading rapidly. As the first wave of zombies spreads from the malls to the coffee shops these dinks will be sitting ducks. When the world as we know it ends, the hipster assholes lucky enough to survive are gonna come to the harsh realization that “mainstream” no longer exists, leaving them the choice of dropping the bullshit act or killing themselves…both are ok solutions in my book. Although one would expect them to be crafty scavengers due to their love of thrift shops, the fact that the entire world already devalues their lives them makes their survival chances less than favorable.  I wonder if zombies can taste smug.

"I would run from the zombies, but that's so, as the French would say, heir. Zombies are sooo corporate, Abercrombie probably started all this to sell last years sweatshirts. Now excuse me, I'm gonna go finger paint and listen to Arcade Fire"

Problem: Cockteases
Urgency: 4 Virgin Zombie Heads

In my first zombie post I attacked one extreme breed of female: the whore. This time around it’s the cockteases turn, as she is just as big of a fucking problem. Cockteases suck (or literally don’t), for some reason this infuriating female mentality is gaining more popularity, and I don’t know why. Ladies, do you think you are making yourself more desirable by trapping guys between first and second base? I mean logically you are, but you might not be too happy with the results. If you withhold the vag too much you become a challenge that guys will either triumph over and move on the next challenge, or flat out abandon for more accessible tail. Guys, wanna know if a girl is a cocktease, follow these instructions. Ask yourself, have you spent more than 168 total hours with this girl and haven’t gotten even so much as a blow job. Have you spent more than $300 on one-on-one hangouts and are still suffering through blueballs. If so, you’ve got a fucking cocktease on your hands, but don’t worry helps on the way…from the walking dead!

Solution: Zombies Baby! Look girls, if you’ve ever pried yourself away from Twilight long enough to watch a zombie movie like 28 Days Later, you’d learn there are two types of women in the zombie apocalypse: those who are in blossoming relationships and those who are treated as bartering objects. It’s simple as that. When push comes to shove, this whole “waiting for the right guy” act will lead to you being used as little more than a hole by some forceful militant survivalist looking to get his rocks off. I’m sorry ladies, it’s just the truth. If you’re taking refuge with a group of male survivors, pretending to be little miss wholesome is gonna lead to you getting stuffed like a thanksgiving turkey…stovetop style. The best you can hope for is that the people you are staying with are respectful enough of your sexual choices that they only chose to Bukkake you. Simply put, pick up a gun and pick a dude, or you might spend your days in the zombie apocalypse walking funny.

When zombies attack, women everywhere (especially cockteases) will be subject to the sexually unspeakable. If forced to choose between sexually assaulting an innocent woman or having consensual sex this this "beauty", rape will win every time...no one, no matter how drunk or desperate, will ever attempt to sleep with this women.

-Matt

The Zombie Apocalypse (Part Trois)