Friday, August 28, 2009

Reading is Fun

More people need to read more classics. It's a well-documented fact that reading the classics reduces people's chances of ending up as vapid, self-absorbed philistines when they get older. Plus, if you make the effort to actually read and understand these books, you will realize that many of them are insane as they are brilliant.

I have therefore resolved to use this blog as a platform to expound the virtues of some of the craziest, coolest works in the literary canon. The first story I've chosen for this task is perhaps the nuttiest work of Romantic literature ever written...

What it's about/ Why you should read it:

Auguste C. Dupin is an analytical genius and Parisian flaneur who likes to solve crimes in his spare time. The powers of his reason are so far-reaching that he can even read people's minds. To deduce a man's thoughts, Dupin only has to identify the causal chain of mental associations brought about by the stimuli of that man's external environment -- that is, when you walk past a fruitier, Dupin knows that said fruitier will remind you of this one particular thing, which then reminds you of this and that thing and so on, until, twenty degrees of separation and fifteen minutes later, he now knows that you are currently thinking about the harsh reviews the local critics gave that midget actor currently starring in the latest production of Xerxes.

Murders in the Rue Morgue bears the distinction of being the very first work of detective fiction ever published. That's right... Sherlock Holmes, everyone's favorite calabash-smoking douchebag, is in fact a two-bit knockoff of Dupin dumbed down for the hoi polloi. Even Conan Doyle's Dr. Watson would appear to have been lifted from Morgue: like Holmes, Dupin also has his intellectually inferior sidekick, who, in addition to serving as the story's narrator, performs Watson's function here as the ponderous foil to whom the detective may explain his brilliant reasoning for our enjoyment.

However, unlike the Holmes stories -- and this is important -- Morgue is completely batshit insane. The story begins not with the actual story, but a five-page editorial ramble explaining why checkers is a more sophisticated game than chess:

"It follows that the game of chess, in its effects upon mental character, is greatly misunderstood. I am not now writing a treatise, but simply prefacing a somewhat peculiar narrative by observations very much at random; I will, therefore, take occasion to assert that the higher powers of the reflective intellect are more decidedly and more usefully tasked by the unostentatious game of draughts than by all the elaborate frivolity of chess."

The narrator then starts talking about how he met Dupin, their sexually ambiguous life together as Bert-and-Ernie-style roommates, and just how goddamn smart Dupin really is. A billion words later, the real story actually begins for real with Dupin coming across an interesting story in the morning paper: apparently, the mutilated bodies of two women were recently found at their home in the Rue Morgue. Naturally, he local constabulary is baffled and has gone with the standard practice of pinning the crime on some random Jew for closure. This looks like a mystery only Dupin can solve.


[[[ After studying all the clues, Dupin discovers that the killer is in fact an orangutan.]]]



I'm tired of trying to explain why Fozzie looks like fried chicken, so I made this picture.


Monday, August 17, 2009

Millions of Babies Worldwide


Sunday, August 16, 2009


"A "hipster" is what "hipsters" call other "hipsters" to detract attention away from their own "hipsterness." A "hipster" was once the word du jour for cool and hip people, but now that its uncool and unhip to be hip and cool, it's what unhip and uncool hip cool people call other hip cool people so that we might not be confused with hip cool people. Cause that would be unhip. Dig?"
-- some guy on Urban Dictionary