When an annoying catchphrase gets its own kitteh meme, it’s time for me to rip on it.
And so I find myself today in the unenviable conundrum of having to disabuse people of the notion of using the horrid, pseudo-philosophical “It is what it is,” a bit of non-conversational drivel that has become the “go to” answer of competitors, executives, lowly office workers and wannabe urban Lamas who can’t think of anything better to say, but hope to sound like they’ve undergone some type of enlightened group training… perhaps for clowns.
It seems that folks are saying “It is what it is” as a kind of lackadaisical shrug; an acknowledgment that they can’t or won’t do anything because there’s nothing to be done. One just has to take it, or follow orders, or give up. It’s the reverse of the 1970s mantra “Question Authority,” from an era when asking questions and striving for change was considered part of one’s responsibility to society and country. John Kennedy’s call to “Ask not…” has become simply, “Don’t ask.”
One isn’t being Zen-like by saying “It is what it is,” one is being lemming-like, marching into the murky acceptance of things the way they are, abandoning any hope of real change, improvement or, heaven forbid, problem solving. This mindset is perhaps being fueled by the economy, and nobody wanting to speak up for fear they’ll be canned. It’s downright un-American. Would Jimmy Stewart have said “It Is What It Is” to the people of Bedford Falls? No, he told old Potter to stick it.
This isn’t to say that there aren’t things that one must accept in life, and there is a time to know what’s important to fight for and what isn’t. But when everything becomes a shrug and a wink, then the next thing you know, they’re at your door asking if you’d like to take a train ride someplace nice… like Buchenwald.
Yeah, I always come back to the Holocaust. I am what I am.
The Scientologists have purchased the former PBS affiliate KCET in Los Angeles, reportedly for $14 million, and it looks like they need a studio to produce television programming to spread the word about their loony fanaticism.
Here’s a few of the titles we might expect:
Battlefield Earth: The Series
Suri’s Me Street
E-Metering with the Stars
I Love Xenu
The Real Housewives of Clearwater
The A-List with John Travolta and Tom Cruise
Without a Trace… of Personality
Live with Xenu and Kelly Preston
As the Volcano Turns
All My Children Are Brainwashed
A Billion Lives to Live
L. Ron Hubbard’s Celebrity Apprentice
Truth or Consequences
I’ve Got a Secret
Law & Order: Suppressive Persons Unit
America’s Funniest Homo Videos That We Keep in Our Vaults
Good Morning, Hemet!
Glib, She Wrote
Talk Barley Soup
Two and a Half Thetans
Auditor Science Fiction Theatre 3000
American Idol: OT VII
Married… with Children, But Only for Show
by Chexy and Johnny Lopez
Tom Cruise pic from Anorak.co.UK
I’ve tried to watch various strains of the “Real Housewives” franchise and have been unable to tolerate the idiocy for more than a few minutes at a time. No sooner do I start watching then I begin to ask myself, with a remarkably harsh degree of incredulity about my tolerance for disgust, “Why are you watching this?”
I am then compelled to change the channel to something that contains at least some element of a life-enhancing experience, which will not include any franchise of “CSI” or “Law & Order.” I wish I were capable of upholding a level of head-shaking wonder that permitted me to warily observe the vapidity of the Housewives who conquer airwaves and populate chat shows with their fresh advice books. Who wants their advice?
Might I be inspired to better eating by the likes of Bethenny Frankel? Is it possible to improve my love life by genuflecting at the literary altar of one Nene Leakes? What on earth does Camille Grammer have to say that could be of any value to me? If Kelsey Grammer is willing to spend $50 million not to have to listen to her, why wouldn’t I do it for free?!
In an effort to appeal to a younger audience in the demographic that buys, the Academy of Television Arts and Sciences today announced that Rico Rodriguez, who plays Manny on “Modern Family,” and Madison De La Garza, who plays Juanita Solis on “Desperate Housewives,” will host the 63rd Emmys in August 2011.
“They’ll be at least as good as Jimmy Fallon was,” said an unnamed spokesthing, adding, “And lord knows anyone’s better than Conan.”
Neither Rico nor Madison would comment as they were playing with their Kinect Xbox.
Why must people say “Question” before asking a question? Why not just ask the question?
This is an irksome linguistic trend that has now reached advertising geared to women, who seem to say “Question” before asking a question more often than men do, as seen in a new Vagisil ad which is mercifully not available online, but sure enough, it begins with a screen shot of the word, and a woman’s voice saying “Question.” Grr.
I always want to say “Answer!” when I hear the flatly declarative “Question.” Someone told me that it’s a way of acknowledging the interruption. I’ll take, “Hey, got a sec?” or even “Hey” or just “Chexy” instead, but just asking directly is less of an interruption.
It’s verbal spamming. Why must I wait while someone organizes their thoughts? Question: How about organizing your thoughts, then asking the question?
Thank you, and good morning William Safire, wherever you are.
There’s a new idiomatic bit of horror taking up residence in the speech of weak thinkers. They do it when they’re about to agree with you, I think. They say, “Yeah, no… blah blah blah…” or worse, “No, yeah… blah blah blah.” Which is it? Yes or no?! WTF are you trying to say?!
This is the vernacular of tepid ass-kissers and others with nothing on their minds. Please, stop!
“Trust us,” a website mindlessly implores, as if we should have good reason to, based on nothing more than the command.
My ex boss used to say, “‘Trust me’ means ‘fuck you.’” And she was right.
There are but a few who can ask that I trust them implicitly, and even they might strain credulity by asking. And you don’t want your credulity strained, so why ask to “trust us,” or worse, “trust me”?
Take a look, if you will, at the plethora of sites insisting that you trust them on some inane bit of information — they rarely ask you to trust them if they know they’re snowing you — that’s just pathological. If at some point in the post you also read “but the good news is…”, it would be good to just quit the page immediately in protest.
People, I’m begging you, please stop wearing patchouli! To put it in the most polite terms possible — it fucking stinks!
This vile substance is made from the patchouli herb of the mint family, originally cultivated in the bowels of Hell. It is made by distillation and fermentation — and I’m sure numerous lives are sacrificed in the process.
Hippies used the oil as perfume in the ’60s and ’70s, no doubt as a fly repellant — for which it’s also used, and you know flies like shit, but won’t go near patchouli. In some Asian countries, they use it as a venomous snakebite antidote — it’ll even kill poison! The Chinese use it to treat nausea, but it never fails to induce mine.
Now they’re adding it to new designer perfumes — because you want to enhance your allure by smelling like bug killer and an old hippie, and by causing asphyxiation, don’t you?
Here’s a handy guide to some of the perfumes containing this horror: J’ai Osé Guy Laroche, Pasha Cartier, Héritage end Habit Rouge Guerlain, Pleasures Estée Lauder, Initiation Molyneux, Eternity Calvin Klein, Miss Dior Christian Dior, Miss Balmain Pierre Balmain, Magie Noir Lancôme, Shalimar and Black Cashmere by Donna Karan.
