Definition of KORY STAMPER

1: Someone who is hot.

When I typed "Kory Stamper" and Google autocompleted “is hot” I learned something.

She's not a bikini model or porn shoot fluffer, but she has caused forty five people to ask of the following video “why do i get a boner when i see this woman?”



The problem is that Kory Stamper, in addition to being a total babe, is smart and a feminist too, so she understands how focusing on her physical qualities necessarily excludes focusing on her mental ones. Now, a case could be made that exploring the cause of our strange boners would be a positive way of celebrating the sexuality of a 30-something mother, but it's too difficult to extricate the objectifying MILFness with so little blood in my brain. So we will ignore her seductive delivery and instead engage her arousing ideas.



The word irony is a sore spot for anyone who doesn't use it. It gets thrown around as a sort of...thing (like, The Thing) that refers to anything remotely funny or unexpected. In Satire?blog's inaugural post I wrote that “[irony's] reclamation by hipsters caused a recession in the meaning market worse than the 1995 crash/release of Jagged Little Pill,” a sentence so darling I wanted to share it twice.

Perhaps Morissette and hipsters* aren't to blame though. In the above video Mrs. Stamper brings her Merriam-Webster descriptive-as-opposed-to-proscriptive lexicography-A-game and we find surprisingly, irony has been sloppily applied for at least 150 years. Merriam-Webster's Ask-the-editor videos have similarly softened my stance on who vs. whom, I hope vs. hopefully, and mercifully, they as a singular pronoun by revealing their lack of pedigree. It seems irony is just a problematic term for any human brain, past or present. It has a lot of conceptual pieces, specifically reversal, expectation, intention, and humor, all mixing and activating in response to each other simultaneously. Alone, a single drop of humor can muddy an entire lake of meaning, and when you try to assess intentions and expectations of different actors in the situation on top of it, it's no wonder irony is the solution anytime there's a whiff of displeasure in the air.

Kory Stamper also has a new blog. I just discovered it while writing this post. Like a window into her sexy lexicographer brain, the blog is about words, and it's pretty exciting to see that behind-the-scenes. I just glimpsed the body of text, but here's a a quick peek at one of its curves:

When I began reading and marking, I would begin reading an article and get halfway through it before realizing that I hadn’t marked a thing. I had made the classic rookie mistake of engaging with the content. If you’re on the hunt for interesting vocabulary–and particularly if you’re reading something that piques your interest–you need to intentionally miss the forest for the trees. You must focus only on the language used without caring at all about the point made with that language. But you can’t just skim. No, you need to be able to read closely enough to catch a subtle grammatical or lexical shift in a word, but not so closely that you forget your primary objective (MAKE CITATIONS). It’s not reading, and it’s not not-reading. It’s unreading. (source)

Suddenly I realize that's the climax of the text. I normally don't comment prematurely, but that was exceptionally tight prose. Beforeplaying next time I'll be sure to explore a little longer, dear reader. Anyway, there's nothing that can reduce my refractory period more than a tease of Orwellian doublethink like unreading. I'd bookmark it. Twice.



*Hipster is problematic for the same reason as irony. It works anywhere you want to refer to the counter-culture or exclusivity, broad concepts. And perhaps we might extend hipster to any search for authenticity, at which point this self-aware footnote reveals "is it satire?" to be a hipster question, thereby fulfilling both the premise and object of this blog simultaneously. And how! I think the appreciation of this...meta recursion...justifies us keeping the lower primates in zoos, right?

Texts From Bennet, now with 15% more real!

Two weeks ago I wrote a post skeptical about the authenticity of Texts From Bennett. Yesterday, it began selling preorders for its Texts From Bennett(TFB) brand tshirts, featuring Hustla Da Rabbit, a character from TFB.



If it wasn't authentic before, it most definitely is not now.

A call to the shamans, the elders.

Today I wanted to finally pay homage to the primogen of Satire?blog, the straw(man) that broke the camel's back and propelled me to ask "is it satire?" in the shirt-ripping manner that I now do. Please give a warm look of quoi while I bring to you the very definition of the ineffable, TransguyJacePDX.



You might expect me question the utility of spiritual shamans and elder healers in a 21st century policy struggle or to start in on sentences like, "there were the use of sound weaponry," or "...synchronicity...one after another." You know, really shit on him from atop my throne of words. But I'm not. I love this video. It is perfect.

Every thing I've covered on satire?blog so far has obvious extra-textual clues that indicate its intent. For instance, a single shitty hip hop song may be an obvious caricature of art and music, but in the context of a well-established industry which excretes the same waste week after week it is obviously not meant as satire, which makes my tone of ineffability a facade. We could just say these things suck, but pretending they might be intentional makes a greater rhetorical impact and serves as a writing exercise. A healthy exercise, I think, but deliberate and a little unfulfilling.

Jace Transguy doesn't have extra-textual clues. He only has 200+ views on the video and I suspect my post on facebook is at least 100 of those. No one has written about him. No one buys what he makes. He obviously has an agenda, but only in the most recondite sense does his audience have any influence on it. It's almost as if he doesn't exist at all. As his transient delivery calls out to the shamans, this ghostly obsession with spirituality suggests a wish to reach out from the great beyond for a child-vessel in which to be born again; satanically, not satirically.

This lack of corporeality makes it difficult to see Trans Jaceguy as an object of satire as well. At 200+ views, the lack of internet presence makes a strong case that he is not a memelogical agent designed to spread virally and undermine the Occupy Wallstreet movement. On the other hand, what would a satire of a white-collar, ostentatious, liberal look like? If you saw the protesters as entitled, wet-behind-the-ears whippersnappers who've never gotten their hands dirty a day in their lives, isn't this the speech you would write? Obliviousness to consequences, "there were many cities who...for the first time...really encountered force from police, that they had never seen before," grandiose arcs of victimization, "people in wheelchairs were tear gassed," abstract gobbledygook, "reactionary responses...occupied spaces," and problematic grammar throughout, delivered by someone with "trans" in his username who is less than clean-cut. Perhaps you might use someone more self-righteous, or perhaps you were going for dim-witted stammering, but this is 95% of the idea. He may not have sang Kumbaya (the viewer assumes a bum pawned his acoustic guitar for hootch), but his heart was definitely bleeding from those rubber bullets. All told, this is a particularly mean-spirited caricature by whoever made it.

At once, Guy Jacetrans's video is both a heartfelt call to shaman/elders, and a clear indictment of university education in the hands of youth. It is completely ambiguous. A strong case can be made for either interpretation, and best of all, there is no key at the end of the text to check our answers. That's what sets this video apart from all the others and makes it truly thrilling. Is it satire? I don't even...!

An Important Film: Megan is Missing

This summary is not available. Please click here to view the post.

Mmmhop IPA, a tiggy-top, I doo-wop

Do not adjust your monitor. DK Mode is enabled.

Whatever Fukishima breeze/pharmaceutical trial is responsible for the Hanson boys huge heads/atrophied bodies it is also probably what gave them the bright idea to finally cash in on their Mmmbop fame and create Mmmhop IPA. To conceive of its creation any other way we must imagine the three Hanson brothers sitting down in the conference room of a product development firm and getting pitched. "People will use this product every day. It could be in every restaurant, store, and home. It's called '"Hansoap.'"
"No."
"Okay, how about a sitcom entitled 'Two and a Half Men?'"
"No."
"An IPA called 'MmmHop.'"
"No."
"A line of manboy grooming products called 'Hansom.'"
"Wait, go back one."

It turns out, after reading that article, that Hanson has been cashing in on their faux-fame the entire time. I didn't know that. I guess I sort of tuned them out after I found out the girl I had a crush on was actually a boy. It gets crazier though, apparently they've released eight albums since Mmmbop, which is the same number of children they've released. They're prolific. But look at that photo again. When I imagine the Hansons reproducing I definitely imagine it happening asexually.

I've always regarded Mmmbop as the 90s "Never Gonna Give You Up," and no amount of children can change that. But after his hit, Rick Astley left the public eye whereas Hanson has been jizzing their derivative gimcrack in the public eyes since theirs. This is wrong for two reasons.
1)Asexual reproduction is accomplished without fertilization, therefore ejaculation is unnecessary.
2)Being a joke band stops being funny once you demonstrate you're in on the joke. Rickrolling was popular for a number of reasons, foremost being that it was worthy of mockery but actually pretty fun to listen to, with broad demographic appropriateness; you could rickroll your grandma and children, whereas sending them to YTMND would only be fun for you. Sending someone



My Favorite Christmas Sweater seems funny in the same vein, but only as satire. It can only be satire if they're criticizing old bands cashing in on our misplaced sense of nostalgia. If they aren't, then it's just three boymen trying to cash in on our misplaced sense of nostalgia. Which I resent, assholes. Don't capitalize on the memories of my youth unless you're prepared to drive them into the ground with millions of dollars in marketing tie-ins. Doing this folksy web store with coffee mugs is uncomfortably sincere.

Now, if some internet parasite unaffiliated with Hanson was hocking the same derivative gimcrack it would be okay, because we could live in the fantasy that Hanson doesn't know how badly they suck. That sounds snarky, but the suckiness is the source of the humor. Call it campiness or silliness if you prefer, but the root of the pleasure is in mockery. Sold by someone external to the suckiness, it retains its irony. It's unfair since the parasite is just as conniving, which makes the exercise even more cynical, but that's how it is. You can't profit off a joke about yourself.*

At present, googling for "Mmmhop IPA" returns a full screen of news sites reporting the same brief announcement. No where online can you buy, see, or read about this beer. Just a press release indicating it will appear sometime in 2012. A brand without a product. A news story without a story. An economy without a culture.

"Still, the pop band has its merchandising standards.
'We will never make dolls, lunch boxes or toothbrushes that play our songs for example," he said.'"

But we will sell buttons, scarfs, and Hansonopoly (anagram for: so onan, p.holy) with our branding all over them. Is it satire?

*Not intended to be a factual statement.

Yes, this is 100% real.

Fill in the blank: someone who interprets emphatic statements of honesty as obvious signs of deception are __________.



I don't understand why this website Texts from Bennett is popping up on my Facebook feed from multiple angles today. The people posting it are claiming it's "the best tumblr ever" or "so funny" or longing "I wish there were more." Bafflingly one wrote, "This is COMEDY!!!" as if front kicking his doubt into a well. Or perhaps he's just a Satire?blog reader and knows how hilarious it is to pretend things that suck might be intentional.

It's not a funny website, nor is it real. We know this for two reasons.

First, the author says it's 100% real. There is no surer sign of mendacity than figures in the 99-100th percentile. Similarly, any sentence that begins with "to be honest" is about to transform into some hilarious bullshit. I don't think these are physical laws that govern the universe or anything, I just know that in a meta world, that is any world where the majority of the population is 4+ years old and sentient, assertions of truth can't help but raise alarm. Why are you insisting something is true? Aha, because you have motives! Where there are motives there is bullshit; so, everywhere basically.

Second, the following exchange mentions a specific Lil' Wayne lyric.



This lyric was recently featured in a Bloomberg Businessweek article on RapGenius.com, which, I know, is basically the intersection of everything everything misunderstood in this world.

When the rapper Lil Wayne, aka Dwayne Mic Carter, was released from prison last year after doing time for attempted gun possession, he disappeared into the studio to work on his comeback album, Tha Carter IV. The rap star sent his fans into a frenzy with the release of the first single, 6 Foot 7 Foot, packed with densely woven boasts, threats, and drug references. There was one line, however, that confounded everybody: “Real Gs run in silence like lasagna.”

While some rap aficionados assumed Lil Wayne had blazed one joint too many, the founders of Rap Genius, a two-year-old website that uses the Internet’s hive mind to explore the deeper meanings of hip-hop wordplay, were determined to unravel the mystery. They posted the lyrics to 6 Foot 7 Foot and soon they had an answer. “When you pronounce ‘lasagna’ this G is silent,” Rap Genius contributor “vmoney” wrote on the site. “We certainly had that up before Yahoo! Answers (YHOO) or Cha Cha,” boasts Mahbod Moghadam, one of the site’s founders.

Do you believe Bennett would read Businessweek? Of course not, he's functionally illiterate and if he knew checking his texts was reading he'd stop doing it. So this website is clearly fictional.

At the moment it's not selling anything obvious other than Iphones, but it's relatively new. Viral marketing has to establish an audience first, and in this case they need to establish the two characters. Eventually things will change. They won't let Bennett, the buffoon character, endorse anything, so the nameless protagonist will start mentioning products he uses or political opinions he has. I think as the straight man he's suppose to do the pitching (which by the way is an insightful metaphor, a pun, and double entendre). In the event this site is maintained by a hobbyist and not a corporate firm, the site will be quietly monetized with ads on the sides and the obligatory Texts-from-Bennett Tshirts. In either event I am sure to see it again and again on my facebook feed.

Perhaps bath salts?

Save a Life: Stop Shopping

The day after Thanksgiving, the leading cause of accidental death in the United States between 4am and 6am is Black Friday. The leading cause of preventable death in those hours is still probably heart attack, which makes it sound more preventable than adults trampling other human beings underneath their feet. But it is not.





John Barryman explains how companies have adapted to life-threatening shopping.

As a precaution to avoid the 2008 incident where someone died, a Wal-mart store in Upland, CA decided to remain open all night to avoid lines and door-rushing. Unfortunately for them, customers began tearing into the shrink-wrapped products that were meant to be open and distributed for sale at 5 AM.

When turned away by employees, they started fighting inside, forcing the Wal-Mart to call police to kick all the customers out and close to clean-up in time for the sale at 5 AM.

The people, naturally, were pissed off, and it seems at that moment, most of them turned into zombies, banging on the glass doors and even eating some brains (not really on that last one). Some got crafty and tried to sneak into the back entrance and the lawn and garden section. Through-out the entire night, there was chanting of "let me in, let me in" and cops had to remain until 6:15 AM.

This coming from one of the store managers trying to calm the crowd, "It was scary." Meaning that crowd could have teared him limb from limb.

The arms race continue to escalate. One woman, evidentially applying lessons learned from the war in Iraq, deployed her offensive capability preemptively. "Moments after a Walmart in Los Angeles opened its doors at 10 p.m., one woman reportedly used pepper spray on at least 20 customers – some of whom were children – to keep them away from the discounted electronics she planned to buy."1

I say to the rest-of-the-world, alien observers, and ancestor spirits, that this is just what happens. It is the unavoidable outcome of incomes so high people can't remember what it's like to think about their own survival, while still too low for every wish automatically manifest via Sphere magic. We are the victims here, victims of our own success. Our government is agile and effective, our roads lead everywhere, and our economy provides for our every need. We have good reason to camp outside of stores for hours; it's the only means we have to improve our lives! John adds, “Here in the U.S., no matter how many civil liberties are denied certain groups, no matter how unhappy people are with their government, what it really takes to get people riled up is 40% off of a DVD set.” I don't know what he's saying on the first two points, but yeah, DVDs!

Our corporate string pullers are to thank. They're so effective at making and marketing widgets they can co-opt entire holiday traditions like Christmas, Valentine's Day, and now Thanksgiving to create this consumer carnival. It is a marvel the way gratitude, love, and Christ have been grossly fashioned into shiny gadgets and greeting cards to create the awesome Frankensteinian cultural creation of Black Friday. Only in America.

I don't recall hearing about Black Friday much until the mid 2000s. It was then that watching obese people squeeze through small entrances, like their own blood cells through plaque-laden arteries, became a guilty pleasure. In those days I still watched evening newscasts, and Black Friday reporting was a seductive mixture of corporate shilling during the lead up and stoic restraint in the aftermath. At first it didn't make sense why news producers feel coverage of the nearby sales serves the public good, nor the on-air talent showed so much restraint while reporting. Watch the corners of the anchor's mouth as he tries not to yell “fuck” during the following report.



You may also have noted the empty look in his eyes as hatred for mankind disintegrates the emotional centers in his brain. It now makes sense now 5 years later, as I too have discovered the way widgets fulfill me. Black Friday is education.

These door stampedes reacquaint adults with lessons learned in school about not running and how to queue. We see the pregnant lady mixing up those childhood drills as priority one is getting her wig back on, later considering getting off her belly. That's stop drop and roll lay there, lady. That's a fire safety technique! Perhaps she was trying to remain under the door frame until the shaking stopped. I'd like to think she was just dumbfounded by the savings.

It doesn't always turn into a gunfight or stampede. Here's what it looks like when things don't go horribly wrong:




Oh who am I kidding. Still horribly wrong. I can only take this as a critique of an educational system which provides no instruction in asking philosophical questions. If I had my buddy record me while I cackled and grabbed box after box of vibrators, that's what it would mean; it seems like a pretty obvious testament to the vibrator-shaped hole in our souls/intellect. So is this satire, or am I going to be posting videos of the first dirty bomb going off in the parking lot of a Walmart next Black Friday?