Hello nearest and dearest. It feels so great to be back with a new show. Tune in and listen to me and my first guest Lucas Koski discussing pressing issues like dating rituals, alcoholism, and Herbert Hoover. Also, I would like to offer the warmest appreciation for my new audio specialist Patrick Blomquist. I think you are going to like him.
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The Internet is Dead
13 NovIt started happening a couple weeks ago. Me; my brilliant, beloved friends; and almost everyone I know was feeling insecure and old. Upon noticing the trend I began to grasp and struggle for answers. Personally, I can always come up with a laundry list of shortcomings for my individual despair. But, when it is happening to everyone else, there must be some undiscovered reason. I would like to humbly offer an explanation.
Why has everyone been feeling helpless, old, and inadequate? Was it the election? The muddy trudge from late 20’s to early 30’s? Perhaps negative energy waves produced from Dick Cheney’s secret bunker? Though popular choices, I believe that it is the new packaging of an old foe that has caused our collective depression. The answer is advertising. Internet advertising has finally advanced beyond it’s relative infancy. The days of avoiding all pop-ups and stealing ad-free entertainment are gone for me and the rest of the masses. I once could watch hours of music videos without ever being reminded that I don’t have the cash to afford the latest whatever. Don Draper never mentions the mirror image message behind the pitch. Every ad is a variation on a common theme. You’re fat. You’re poor. You’re lost. And the only thing that can free you from this prison of personal inadequacy is the next product… and the next… and the next.
The good people of this world need to get smarter and more elusive. We have had a glimpse of the intellectual paradise of infinite information without the attached message of infinite guilt. All blessed internet cowboys must become quicker on the trigger. We must remember that nearly every advertisement is a dark cloud over our third eye. We already pay 30-80 dollars a month for the information superhighway. No need to pay with precious attention from our consciousness. Don’t listen to this bigger, stronger, faster bullshit. We are already stronger than we will ever know.
Enter witty “Go Vote” slogan here
2 NovIs there an election today?
I can’t remember exactly but I think we are supposed to vote or something. There is this vague recollection in the far corners of my brain that I am supposed to do something allegedly righteous every two years. Um… I guess I will do it. I am finding the puppet on the left 0.01% more appealing than the one on the right. Perhaps I spread this passion through canvassing.
(dave knocks at the door and patiently waits with clipboard)
Drunk out of work dad (DOWD): Oh God… are you here to foreclose?
Dave Good: No way Jose… I am so not down with the Man.
DOWD: In that case do you have any cigarettes? I need to curb my appetite, the kids and I survive on recalled Diet Mountain Dew.
Dave Good: (hands over a cig) Let me light that for you. I was wondering… do you plan on voting for the Christian with the bachelors degree or the guy with a law degree that is just pretending to be Christian?
DOWD: Well… The first one is a bit more like me.
Dave Good: I know… but please consider voting for the second one. He is a bit more like me.
DOWD: Does it really matter?
Dave Good: The lawyer asshole will actually save you a little more money than the fake good-ole boy. Please just try to look past the fact that the lawyer asshole hates you and your kind. The good-ole boy just loves you for your constant willing exploitation.
DOWD: Holy shit. You should run for office.
Dave Good: Look at my car! You know I am way to poor to actually “participate”
(they both laugh heartily and scrounge the house for liquor)
Don’t forget to vote today. Again, I do recommend the puppet on the left.
Return to the Twilight Zone
3 SepAm I back?
Who is the president?
What city do I live in?
That was a close one… Somehow I got sucked into some bizarre alternate dimension where smart kind people respected each other, and we all looked forward with hope to a blessed, exciting, and sustainable future. It must have been some kind of dream. Needless to say, It feels so good to be back inside our mutual reality tunnel of loneliness and cynicism. Wherever I went was so positive and rejuvenating that I was starting to forget who I really was.
Speaking of multi-layered realities, I find the best way to mess with your own universe is to change up your media stream. Most of us are constantly pulled along by a current of online and cable television experiences. Even if that isn’t how you roll in particular, any consistent media habit can become psychically confining. Personally, I like to shift into alternate media universes whenever possible. For example, when I moved to Minneapolis and was at my absolute poorest, I could not really afford cable or internet. What I could afford was an unlimited movie pass at the nearest Hollywood Video. This amazing place had become the repository for the remaining catalogs of numerous and constantly-closing local branches. While the majority of the country was flipping channels, I was tearing through a near-infinite catalog of forgotten gems. I watched over 100 titles in the first 30 days alone (much of unemployment is about passing the time). Everyday, I was digging through a physical world of DVDs when the rest of America was pointing and clicking pointing and clicking. Almost nothing I watched was less than 5 years old (including Ultimate Fighting Championships 25-60).
When I did get out of the house with enough cash to cover two beers and two tips, I would find my perspective in debates and conversations becoming more and more unique. It is amazing what an alternate media stream will do to ideas about “consensus opinion.” My unique source list provided me with well-researched ideas that were lost to those swimming in the mainstream soup. Surprisingly, many 20 year old ideas are quite relevant. Some of them even make status updates and blogs seem like juvenile indicators of the downfall of civilization. Apparently a life of reading books, talking and thinking could be even more effective than blandly pawing an iPad. Before I get too far ahead of myself, let me give an example.
Once I was three months and about 250 titles in (my work/social life was improving), I started watching “The Twilight Zone”. Don’t know if you have seen it, but it was the foundation for things like “Twin Peaks” and “Lost.” It is the classic dark horse for best television show ever. Still, reliving these old shows was not the most mind-blowing aspect of my viewing experience. What really took me by surprise were the old public service announcements and commercials at the end of every episode (did TV used to only have 30 seconds of commercials per show?). What I cannot forget was a PSA-like precursor to “Rock the Vote.” Here is what happens; an animated anthropomorphic spokesthing comes out to a repetitive jingle. I can’t remember the exact lyrics but it was along the lines of don’t forget to vote for your favorite candidate blah dee blah blah blah. Then the anthropomorphic spokesthing proceeds to the poorly drawn ballot boxes and makes its selection. The choice of who to vote for was between six potential candidates. Each fake choice was presented with absolutely equal value. I sat stunned on the only chair in my sparse apartment.
Six!? Are you kidding me!? 50 years ago a public representation of political choice included 6 motherfucking options. To me, that seems to indicate a 66% drop in personal freedom. Today, we don’t even pretend that we have more than two bullshit choices. Even when that rare third party does make a go of it, they are usually accused of attempting to destroy democracy (see Ralph Nader). Or, they reconsider and join one of the two mainstream parties even though they barely fit in (see Ron Paul). I am so sick of the pervasive illusion of choice. Every election cycle we endure constant news, advertising, and infotainment, and it all boils down to Democrat or Republican, Coke or Pepsi, beef or pork, Bud or Miller, Marlboro or Camel, Viagra or Cialis, Xanax or Zoloft, et cetera, et cetera, et cetera.
This is what happens when you get out of the mainstream current. Suddenly ideas that should be obvious seem to bolt down from the heavens.
You realize that constantly choosing the lesser of two evils is basically a lost cause.
You realize that freedom is a battle that must be won again and again (someone that wasn’t me said that).
Your new reality insists that there are not two sides to every story, there are many, and pretending freedom is represented by a simple “one or the other” is pointless and exhausting. During times like these I want to go back to the Twilight Zone. I want the world that creator Rod Serling thought was cruel and bizarre. I can’t imagine what his response would be to this one. Sometimes the only way to move forward is to take a breath and look back.
Podcast delivered!
10 AugIn this short preliminary podcast The Dave Good Show covers personal responsibility, activism, selling out, and why he roots for losing teams. All discussions of relationships have been removed due to extreme controversy. Dave Good strongly recommends that you tune in and get tuned up.
Click here to listen: Episode 1
Podcasts of the Dave Good Show will be available to download on iTunes shortly. All featured music by Strength.
The Golden Light of Michele Bachmann
27 JulOne of the primary reasons I tell good stories is because I know when to hop in the back seat and go along with someone else’s ride.
One of these days was this past Saturday when I ended up attending a Chicago concert in Stillwater, MN. It was a summer festival brought to Small Town America with the assistance of many corporate and military sponsors. The show was delayed by hours, so I spent a large amount of time lounging in a shade-less field, drinking tall boys, and sweating myself into a pleasant oblivion. Admittedly I was drinking with a bit of diligence and purpose: I needed to kill off any possibility of higher thought because the surroundings were quite distressing to my urban intellectual sensibilities. Children were engaged in a push-up contest at the Air Force tent. The cops were showing off a stable of German Shepherds. Attendees were pelting baseballs at an ironically impervious poster of Osama Bin Laden. Unfortunately, the all Anheuser Busch beer selection came with a hefty $6 price tag. Even after handing over my 3rd twenty I was still sober enough to listen to the MC read off the list of 40-odd sponsors. Three received cheers and applause. One was Michelob Golden Light. Another was Congresswoman Michele Bachmann. I will mention the third one later.
My remaining active brains cells could only come to one seemingly obvious solution. Michele Bachmann must be quite similar to at 16oz. tallboy of Michelob Golden Light. I watched some YouTube clips: We Now Have a Total Gangster Government, and Bachmann: “Not All Cultures are Equal” and I am still just as confused by her as ever. Perhaps an investigation of my personal emotional response to the Michelob Golden Light product design will prove illuminating.
"God Light"
As far as I can tell, Michelob Golden Light is trying to be the first beer Jesus drinks when he finally returns to Earth. It is white with gold and silver trim. The top and bottom of the can are so reflective that you appear to be holding a staff of divine power. You could put wheels on it, make it bulletproof and then use it to drive the Pope in a parade. No can of beer can touch the majestic and regal Christianity of a Mic Golden Light.
However, inside that can is the same nearly indistinguishable intoxicant that is inside every other AB product. It is not bringing you closer to Jesus; it is bringing you closer to your own death. Golden light doesn’t enlighten, it intoxicates; it get’s you drunk on a fake representation of salvation. This artificial godliness is nothing next to the real thing. When “the supreme being” was read of as a sponsor, (yes he was) the response was intense, joyous, and uproarious. If Jesus is real, he isn’t in a can… and he definitely is not in congress. All we can know for sure, is that he is a strong supporter of classic rock.
These are only impressions… advertising these days is incredibly successful at tapping into our deepest emotions and prejudices. Personally, I recommend ignoring the packaging and making choices based on the holy trinity of price, size, and alcohol content. I had more to say about this, but my final thoughts drowned in the final drops of Bud Tallboy #9.
All I can remember is the aging remaining members of Chicago singing the line “I’m addicted to you baby… You’re a hard habit to break”
Inception
22 JulCaution: The following paragraphs contain cutting-edge embedded, subconscious messaging. If read, the reader will immediately forget the experience and then be completely convinced that the ideas contained within were completely self-generated. What was once an unknown will become woven into the fabric of the reader’s very identity. Even the most militarized subconscious can and will be penetrated by this universal and undeniable idea virus. Again, please proceed only at your own earnest discretion.
Only assholes sneak food into the theater and then leave it there for the staff to pick up. Have you ever seen what a theater looks like after the patrons leave and the cleaning lights come on? I have, and I assure you, it is a profound testament to the infinite nature of human insensitivity. To get the theaters presentable before the next round of shows requires every single staff member and manager. Most of those managers and all of the staff are getting paid less per hour than the price of one ticket.
The only way to psychologically compensate for the ego blow caused by cleaning up after tasteless heathens is to focus on the hard realities of capitalism. Since the theater itself makes next to nothing on tickets (if it’s a George Lucas film they even pay a little extra juice for the privilege,) the concession stand is the sole provider of a staff member’s paycheck. At least when they are slipping around in buttery topping grasping for half empty cups of “Vault” (when it’s “Vault” the glass is never half full) they know that these things are responsible for their paycheck. They know that a few pennies from that $4 dollar pretzel will eventually trickle down to provide two meals from one foot long Subway. They know that every $6.25 popcorn eventually leads to 20 minutes on a pre-paid phone so they can sell a little weed and make enough money for rent. Every box of Nerds hastily swept under the screen eventually pays for that secret bi-weekly indulgence of one extra side of guacamole. These are the thoughts that keep college students/graduates sane while they study and save their way to a better life.
However, when they are cleaning up your Doritos, your Veggie Booty, your sack of ten White Castles, your Healthy Choice microwave popcorn, your $18 chocolate soufflé, your 40oz. beers, and your 20oz. mochas… they are thinking only two things.
“Fuck” and “You”
When you are putting one over on “the man” don’t forget about “the little guy.”
Lindsay A. Godard, 19, of Saginaw and a cashier at Saginaw 8 in Michigan, scoops up popcorn for a customer at the movie theater on Wednesday afternoon.
You may now return to your regularly scheduled programming.
This year’s summer blockbuster: The 4th Branch of Government
19 JulFirst of all, let’s start out with a big hug and thank you to The Washington Post. I was really wondering what could possible distract me during the 6 slow moving weeks before football season. Just when the romance of another drunken forgotten July was grabbing hold of my heart, I punched up my Mac book and discovered one of my favorite forgotten storylines. The American People have created a 4thbranch of government that is nearly oversight free.
There is a vast network of scary secret organizations that seem to be accountable to no one. For almost ten years we have been giving a billion dollars to any ex-spy who repeated the worlds counter terrorism three times and then did a double pinky swear over a modern language bible.
I imagine the conversations went something like this:
Weary and frightened member of Congress (WFMC): So you have the skills to defend us from a nameless and faceless enemy?
Nameless and faceless security company (NFSC): Fuck yeah.
WFMC: How much money do I need to spend to convince my constituency that I am not a pussy?
NFSC: 1 mil… no wait… 1 billion? We could kick some serious ass with a billion.
WFMC: Before I give you the money, I need to make sure The American People can trust you. Please place your hands on the exposed shoulders of this statue of Jesus in a wife beater, stare deeply into his historically accurate blue eyes and say the words “Jesus Rocks!”
NFSC: (looking around for Kutcher to make sure they aren’t being punked) Jesus Rocks!?
WFMC: Sounds good. (Writes out a big check, gets a sweet photo with large men holding large guns and happily returns to seat) Great… just a couple more questions. Where will your headquarters be? Who is in charge? And to whom will that person report?
NFSC: (all representatives from the security company melt into a strange glistening alloy and disappear silently through the floor boards)
Ex-Presidents Farewell Bank Tour
The first step to solving a problem is admitting that you have one. We all remember government class. The three branches manage each other through a series of checks and balances etc. Even to the most cynical student it seemed like a good idea… seemed like a solid plan to preserve democracy. Unfortunately, those free wheelin three branch days are gone. That battle has been lost. If these facts seem jarring, I would recommend a serious reassessment of your leadership structure. For example, If I were teaching a government class it would go something like this:
Mr. Good: O.K. students… before we discuss our papers about “Waco: The Rules of Engagement” let’s go over the branches of government.
Students: (in unison) Oh hellz yeah.
Mr. Good: How may are there?
Students: There are 6. Three visible and three invisible.
Mr. Good: Excellent. Now we know the three visible ones are Executive, Legislative, and Judicial. What are the three invisible ones?
Students: #1 The vast network of consultants, lobbyists, think tanks, and alleged non-profits. #2 The secret collection of security companies and oversight free counter terrorism agencies, and of course #3 Goldman Sachs.
Mr. Good: Great job everybody! For a reward I got you all french fries from Mc Donalds!
Students: BOOOOOOO!!!!
Mr. Good: Just kidding. Your kale and berry fruit smoothies are being brought up from the cafeteria.
Students: (cheering, laughing and chanting) Mr. Dave Good aint nothin to fuck with. Mr. Dave Good aint nothin to fuck with.
Building the case against Dave Matthews
14 JulThose of you who know me, or are getting to know me, may start to think that I hate The Dave Matthews Band. For the record, I don’t. I have fond memories of a time when I felt like his music was the perfect compliment to bad weed, cheap vodka, sunny D, and dry humping. However, once I grew up, sobered up, and made the mistake of seeing them live… I regarded the music as highly unremarkable. Only after a few more years of maturity did I realize what makes Matthew’s music so subversively sinister. It’s not the music I have a problem with, it’s the fans, specifically the male ones. Dudes into Dave Matthews (DIDM™) are some of the worst people in the entire world. This seems like an overstatement? Please let me explain…
DIDM represent the seedy underbelly of sensitive male culture. They represent all of the bad poets with a penchant for sucking the life out of hot yoga instructors and cuddly brand managers. They are the ponytails complicit in institutionalized sexism. The DIDM major in Anthropology, go to law school, and then take a job with Lockheed Martin. They’re the stay at home dads that make their own granola and secretly hate the Jews. One of the DIDM would actually cheat on his wife while she was being re-diagnosed with cancer. Then he would continue to cheat while hoping for her rapid death. He would also accept an award for “Father of the Year” right before impregnating his mistress. And then spend millions and millions of dollars covering it up.
That’s right, DIDM have a king and his name is John Edwards. Apparently, he and Rielle loved to get nasty to the Dave Matthews anthems of sensitive manipulation. She was a new age healer; he was the great white southern hope for liberalism. The pair was ultimately concerned with nothing more than exploiting the poor and empathetic for their own egomaniacal advancement. Don’t believe me? Watch this episode of 20/20 and remember how much we all used to believe in Mr. Edwards… and how he proved to be a typical DIDM.
Ladies, please let this blog serve as a sober warning when you finally go inside a new dude’s apartment after that third date. If “Crash” starts to play make sure there is no tan line from the ring he discreetly removed from his finger. Don’t let him seduce you with his manufactured opinions about patriarchy and populism. Don’t look him directly in those sad concerned eyes. He is only holding your gaze so he can quietly drop a roofie in your drink.
"The space between"
O.K. I know that last reference was extreme and unfair. I would like to apologize for my inappropriateness as well as my insensitivity to a tragic and serious issue. Besides, if I had to pick a male fan base most likely predisposed to date rape… I would easily make the choice of Vampire Weekend.
Welcome to The Dave Good Show.
13 JulI was lying on my couch absorbing the latest Chuck Klosterman book “Eating the Dinosaur” when I came across a word pairing, a term, that satisfied a desperate intellectual need. The pairing? “Post-Taste.” After reading these two words I realized that one of my favorite drunken monologues had just been rendered obsolete. I have been living in a post-taste world for years and I just didn’t know how to say it.
I used to express post-taste to whoever was buzzed and in my booth like this, “I don’t care what you like, I care why you like what you like. It doesn’t matter what you are watching and listening too. It matters what you are getting out of it.” Hopefully after I uttered these words, at least one of my hipster companions started contemplating their ipod play list and ironic t-shirt in new and profound ways. Post-taste is a philosophy of the future.
A post-taste attitude will set America free. We can all just like what we like and let go of the concern that what we like could secretly and unknowingly define us as totally and utterly lame. Disney movies? I think they mostly suck but maybe you have brilliant impressions about the cartoon’s ability to exploit the universal anxieties surrounding a mother’s mortality. Baseball? I have trouble getting behind fat smokers that call themselves athletes, but maybe you are tired of all the glory being bestowed on the muscled winners of the genetic lottery. In a post-taste world you never have to write someone off because of their media choices. You could even authentically continue a date after she mentions her favorite song to make out to is “Crash” by Dave Matthews. Our “taste” is very different than our “soul.”
However… to be completely honest… the opportunity to identify with those who embrace the Elvis to my Beatles was not what lead me to the post-taste epiphany. It was really the opposite. There is nothing worse that hearing someone spout off about loving something for the wrong reasons… nothing worse than someone loving what you love because of ideas that you hate. Post-taste gives us all the freedom to dislike the other people at the concert/movie/ art opening. Yes I too love Joe vs. The Volcano… but that doesn’t mean you aren’t a gigantic douche. Our lines of connection are deeper the patterns of our consumption.
Welcome to The Dave Good Show.
I hope you love me for all the right reasons.
The Dave Good Show 
