Whole A.S.S.
On Seventh Avenue, next to a TGI Friday's and a Dunkin' Donuts–Tad's Steaks– KFC–Pizza Hut grease extravaganza, there's a door to a business that I never noticed before today:
L.O.L. Comedy Club
I wept a little inside. Never mind that the era of texting has ushered in the era of crapstick grammar. Never mind that the purpose of acronyms is to simplify what a speaker is saying and, despite that, grown men and women say the words, "Oh my god! I totally L.O.L'ed!" instead of saying, "I laughed," which is much simpler and less gross. What anointing a business with this wretched name says is that lazy technology-driven language practices have so overrun everyday written communication, where laziness on the page is more accepted over laziness in speech, and have totally seeped into consumer enjoyment, all, "Aren't we quirky and fun! We'll make you L.O.L.! You know what we're talking about! We're hip to your jam! Right on, friend!" To me, a comedy club called L.O.L. will only book talent who make their audiences dumber. I mean, WTF?
Of course, this is nothing new. I did live across from Krazy Kar Wash in college. Marketing wins over English every time. But I don't have to like it. Hmpf.
Argh, I'm old and crotchety. I turned 34 on Friday. Arrrrrgh. I'm a pirate. An old pirate.
A bonus of turning into a 34-year-old pirate: Josh's aunt and uncle invited us to use their excellent beach house on Fire Island for the weekend. To all of those fucktards who say global warming doesn't exist, the beach has definitely shrunk because the ocean is rising, but in the grand tradition of sun-worshippers turning lemons into lemonade, it increased the number of body surfers, which was hugely enjoyable to watch. Also, there was a stellar thunderstorm on Sunday night. I woke up at 3:30 a.m. and watched lightning flash over the ocean, the spray of the waves visible in the black night. (Lo! A poetess!) It was one of the most dramatic and beautiful things I've ever seen. I love it there.
Also? Excellent beach reading: I Love You, Beth Cooper. It's one of those books that sort of makes you feel the author was hoping a movie would be made of it (which I hear actually is happening, so well done, Larry Doyle), but it's hugely enjoyable all the same. The book will certainly be better, of course, as a movie wouldn't convey a written line like the following as well as the author's language does:
This was a difficult subject. They had never seriously discussed Rich's sexuality before, even when they were eleven, after Rich had the idea to reenact the climactic light-saber battle between Luke Skywalker and Darth Vader using their boners.
I may be 34, but I'm still 12.
L.O.L. Comedy Club
I wept a little inside. Never mind that the era of texting has ushered in the era of crapstick grammar. Never mind that the purpose of acronyms is to simplify what a speaker is saying and, despite that, grown men and women say the words, "Oh my god! I totally L.O.L'ed!" instead of saying, "I laughed," which is much simpler and less gross. What anointing a business with this wretched name says is that lazy technology-driven language practices have so overrun everyday written communication, where laziness on the page is more accepted over laziness in speech, and have totally seeped into consumer enjoyment, all, "Aren't we quirky and fun! We'll make you L.O.L.! You know what we're talking about! We're hip to your jam! Right on, friend!" To me, a comedy club called L.O.L. will only book talent who make their audiences dumber. I mean, WTF?
Of course, this is nothing new. I did live across from Krazy Kar Wash in college. Marketing wins over English every time. But I don't have to like it. Hmpf.
Argh, I'm old and crotchety. I turned 34 on Friday. Arrrrrgh. I'm a pirate. An old pirate.
A bonus of turning into a 34-year-old pirate: Josh's aunt and uncle invited us to use their excellent beach house on Fire Island for the weekend. To all of those fucktards who say global warming doesn't exist, the beach has definitely shrunk because the ocean is rising, but in the grand tradition of sun-worshippers turning lemons into lemonade, it increased the number of body surfers, which was hugely enjoyable to watch. Also, there was a stellar thunderstorm on Sunday night. I woke up at 3:30 a.m. and watched lightning flash over the ocean, the spray of the waves visible in the black night. (Lo! A poetess!) It was one of the most dramatic and beautiful things I've ever seen. I love it there.
Also? Excellent beach reading: I Love You, Beth Cooper. It's one of those books that sort of makes you feel the author was hoping a movie would be made of it (which I hear actually is happening, so well done, Larry Doyle), but it's hugely enjoyable all the same. The book will certainly be better, of course, as a movie wouldn't convey a written line like the following as well as the author's language does:
This was a difficult subject. They had never seriously discussed Rich's sexuality before, even when they were eleven, after Rich had the idea to reenact the climactic light-saber battle between Luke Skywalker and Darth Vader using their boners.
I may be 34, but I'm still 12.
Labels: grammar, New York, pop culture, weather
posted by Marla at 2:39 PM
3 Comments:
Hee hee... you said boner.
Hee, I did! I love dirty words.
Happy birthday, Marla! I don't know if this makes you feel better about turning 34, but I'll be the big 4-0 on my next birthday. Ack!
Also, reading about Fire Island reminded me of a book I read called "The Last Summer (of You and Me)" by Ann Brashares, which is set on Fire Island. I think you would like it.
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