Mind control. Wow, shortest blog ever.
Now that we’ve got out of the way, link up to Rhyme and Reasonable’s Facebook page and, well, Like it. Sorry, I’m contractually obliged to Globochem to promote the page for the next 36 months.
Before we actually get on track to poor Katy Perry’s susceptibility to mind control or the consumption shell game dubbed ‘Hurricane Irene’ I’m contractually obliged by the Pac12 conference to make fun of their unbelievably shrewd crassness. Time to wander into my imagination for a moment.
In a perfect world…..I’d have persuaded more than one person (The Rat Pack’s Joey Bishop) of the virtues of a 9/11 10th Anniversary Memorial Gathering. With dual ice luges. Symbolism, people. If we don’t party, the terrorists win. That’s the gist of the newly minted Pac12 Conference tethering their league debut with the 10th anniversary of 9/11, right? College football IS tailgaters heaven, right? RIGHT?
Enough yelling. I could also point out the money grubbiness of the NFL’s salute to the ‘American spirit’ on Nine Eleven. Yeah that’s right. Their PR mavens recognized ‘American spirit’ as the go-to-phrase. Alas, I enjoy football too much to truly criticize. Any word which commandeers a global sport (soccer) is as American as Patrick Bateman, or Betty White.
I’ll guarantee tho, fans will have every opportunity to purchase memorabilia emblazoned with the commemorative ribbon logo. And people kept telling me side by side ice luges (symbolism!) that may or may not have a toy plane flown into them at the end of the evening was in poor taste.
Apologies for prattling on about this stupid ice luge idea. I just want to get this out before the 10th anniversary of 9-1-1 for posterity. And in case any sociopaths are looking for a good party theme next weekend.
Now if you’re a partying sociopath, you may have heard of cocaine. Apparently it’s some sort of party drug. The LA Times reports on a seizure of 36 pounds of cocaine. Dat’s a lotta yayo. Something vexed me.
Of course it did. This wouldn’t be cryptojournalism if there wasn’t some oblique nugget to put on blast. That IS cryptojournalism, after all.
Department of Homeland Security, also called DHS in the biz, valued 36 lbs. of the white stuff at $324,000. Which to my peasant ears, does not sound like much. It comes to equal $9,000 per pound. A pound containing 453.6 grams, that’s $19.84 per gram. Good wholesale price in the states, whatever that means. Now here’s where things get a little murky.
I don’t do coke. So I had to look elsewhere for street valuation for a gram of cocaine. As someone who puts words out into the internet, I do not really trust the web. Do you? Don’t.
This website claims a street price of $100 a gram. Then throws out an assumption on how much a dealer will step on the package. In more mundane vernacular, how much a drug dealer will cut his product. In other words, how much filler the coke a consumer purchases contains. Enough word play.
Forgetting the foolishness of regurgitating internet ‘statistics,’ I cast the net out to a few friends I was confident might know a street price. A few people came back with a ballpark figure between $25-$60, with more than a couple honing in on $50 a gram. Of cocaine. I’m going to run with this.
In a perfect world….that $50 a gram fetches $22,680 per pound. Not quite the $9,000 DHS claims, is it now? In this fictional world of $50 grams of pure coke the Mexican seizure fetches $816,480. This does not take into account “The Wire” logic. Put otherwise, pop culture, TV and movies tell me people step on packages.
Tell it, Stringer. Mr. Bell is talking about degrading a degraded batch of drugs. So let’s, for shits and giggles, assume the cocaine on the street is 1/3 filler. I’m being generous. All of a sudden, there’s 48 pounds of cocaine. At $50 a gram. That $324k seizure, through the magic of presumption, aspirin, baking soda and hypothetical numbers, is $1,088,640. More than triple the reported street value.
Which just goes to show how valuable the black market is. I won’t even vouch for that million+ figure, since I have no clue how much coke is actually cut, or what it’s really worth. Tacking on an arbitrary wholesale number is strange, even for a government bureaucracy.
Speaking of ineptitude, let me give a shout out to all those naive people who stocked up for the storm of all storms, the devastator and precursor to December 21, 2012, HURRICANE IRENE.
Here’s an after the fact, posthumous example of how swiftly and blindly shoppers shopped at the drop of a Pavlovian computer model trotted on the TeeVee. This was Monday morning at a PathMark in North Babylon, New York. An area where there was barely minor damage. After the storm had been long gone.
“]I can’t say this was surprising. To hearken back to the aforementioned Facebook page, I chose “Gimme the Loot” by Biggie Smalls as the theme song for Irene. Yup, I’m plugging the shit out of that page, no homo. The song was a perfect fit.
Only paraphrasing a tiny bit:
Lock your windows, close your doors
Hurricane Irene, I’m a bad bad storm
The cynical conclusion I immediately jumped to was this hurricane was being used as a ploy by Lowes and Home Depot to boost sagging 3rd quarter numbers. Only time will tell if we see those “surprisingly strong” third quarter figures. I’ll let you know.
Employing scare tactics and computer
assumptions models to compel shopping is a fairly obvious form of mind control. No, not MK-ultra mind control. Sorry, conspiracy theorists of the web. Good old fashioned Bernaysian manipulation and sheeple shepherding. To the stores. To purchase bottled water, plywood and batteries for your flashlights.
I’m not downplaying the damage. There was damage. People died. But a whole slew of people went through the motions of buying whatever the fuck they’re told to whenever the fuck they’re told to. All fucks aside, that’s not the only place where mind control was on display last weekend.
That’s right. I’m talking about the 2011 MTV Video Music Awards. Were I, say, L. Brent Bozell, I would have plenty to bemoan. But I’m not a preachy douche, so I’ve only got one, ahem, point (using the term as loosely as possible) to make.
If you’re a Katy Perry fan, um, what the hell are you doing reading this? And, you should probably close your browser asap.
I’ve never been one to really believe in the force and power of mind control. After seeing the train wreck that is Katy Perry, I’ve done a rhetorical one eighty. Not to be mistaken with the going nowhere fast and often misspoken 360.
No person in their right mind would present themselves in public looking like poor, poor Katy. It’s impossible. Only someone under the sway of powerful mind control could so easily be swayed towards presenting themselves in such a foolish manner.
If it pleases the court, allow me to enter into evidence Nicki Minaj’s Cobra Commander outfit.
When you’re competing with (and trouncing) a fashion statement which says, “I’m dating Cobra Commander,” you’re on another planet. Planet Mind Control (bang a left at Neptune, cruise for about 10 light years, it’s on your right). Your honor, with the next few photos, you should see my point.
And no, this is not simply railing on a pop tart for looking like a nitwit.
I’ll admit, it’s kind of a hot look. In a blithering idiot sort of way. Now if that was it, I wouldn’t have batted an eye.
Oh, that’s not it.
No, that’s not it either. But it really brings out the crazy in her eyes.
I’m going so far as to say, “Drum roll, please.”
I’m not simply assailing a gullible singer’s poor choice in clothes. Watching her accept the acclaim, admiration and awards from her contemporaries revealed someone who looks like she doesn’t comprehend her surroundings.
MTV has her acceptance speech with Kanye West: Corporate Lobbyist on their website. Consider this a suggestion to watch it. It’s amazingly awkward to watch her eyes darting around, trying to process what’s going on around her. Almost as amusing as this gem.
“Tonight has been a night of firsts. This is my second moon man.” It’s my affinity for Rickyisms (aka nearlyisms), but that tickles my funny bone. The premise that a person is so desperate for attention from other they will wear whatever the fuck they’re told when they’re fucking told to betrays a mental weakness I do not grasp. We ARE talking about super famous Katy Perry, not some nobody. Being so susceptible to whatever some misguided designer or person tells you looks good or is right, that’s mind control.
In a way, Katy Perry’s the perfect embodiment of the regular American schmuck. Ready and willing to do whatever they’re told on command. Giv’er a round of applause, folks.