My time lately has been pretty much spent either at work or at my computer. It's getting kind of pathetic, but there really isn't anything else for an automotively challenged college dropout (which, lets face it, is what I am until I get the hell back on that shit) to do in the middle of suburbia. So here in the middle of what will be when all is told a streak of 12 consecutive workdays, my outlook is less than sunny. Also my paycheck is two days late. Fucking snow (when I was little I promised myself that those words would never escape me but here we are)
I mean, yeah, as far as problems go my shit is trivial. I mean, I have a job, even though I'm not getting paid enough, and nothing is killing me, but all the same that doesn't cast any light on where I am, it just gives me darker places to contemplate.
Oh, just a note. If at any point on this blog I start to sound like an emo kid, please tell me. I'm trying to maintain at least some sense of dignity here and, you know how it goes, the eye sees not itself and all that shit.
Richard Pryor is dead.
I only hope that his memory isn't smeared by a tribute show laden with shitty comics who've built their careers riding on his coattails. I mean seriously, what is that? All it takes for a black comedian to get laughs is jokes about white people, no matter how poorly crafted or delivered. All it takes is a nasal "white guy voice," and laughter ensues. Pryor was one of maybe two guys who could do it and be genuinely funny.
Don't get me wrong, I know which end of the stick I was handed when it comes to race relations, but I find it abhorrent for stupid people to profit from racism. And they do. All colors, too.
But shit, all that is secondary. What matters is that planet Earth has lost a comic genius. As one who understands how important laughter is, I can't really convey how much that sucks
