Things like this happen.
I’ll miss you, Whitehall Tavern Atlanta, but $2.13 an hour can spend eternity listening to people clip their toenails.
Last one has a spelling fail. That chalkboard didn’t have spellcheck.
If you don’t like crude humor you may be a robot.
If there’s one thing in the World everyone can relate to, it’s poopin y’all. In an attempt to harness the hilarity of the thing everyone does yet we’re not supposed to speak of, I’ve decided to unleash unto the universe, The Shit Show. A place to let it all out.
I’ve been awkwardly jotting down stories as people have shared them over the course of the last few months. Now, one by one I’ll be sharing their quips and tales from the brown side.
Let us begin with a gem from a friend of mine who’s now an Art Director in NYC.
“My buddies and I used to light bags of shit on fire a lot when we were younger, like elementary school, a simpler time. One time this bag just lit up, it was like a ten foot fucking flame. The people opened the door and had to of known it was shit in a bag because they just closed the door and let it die out. There’s no way you could do that now. It would probably be considered an act of terrorism.”
TALK SHIT. Submit your story to The Shit Show! Send your tale to firstname.lastname@example.org (all stories will remain 100% anonymous)
‘Does it hurt?’ asked the Rabbit.
‘Sometimes,’ said the Skin Horse, for he was always truthful. ‘When you are Real you don’t mind being hurt.’
‘Does it happen all at once, like being wound up,’ he asked, ‘or bit by bit?’
‘It doesn’t happen all at once,’ said the Skin Horse. ‘You become. It takes a long time. That’s why it doesn’t happen often to people who break easily, or have sharp edges, or who have to be carefully kept. Generally, by the time you are Real, most of your hair has been loved off, and your eyes drop out and you get loose in the joints and very shabby. But these things don’t matter at all, because once you are Real you can’t be ugly, except to people who don’t understand.”
–Margery Williams, The Velveteen Rabbit
Today, I needed some perspective. I found it here.
If you’ve ever struggled with trusting the “just go with it, it’s all part of the process” aspects of college. Or maybe sometimes you have that sinking feeling or day to day blahs, wondering what “it” all means. Perhaps even if you’re simply trying to ride out the ebbs and flows of life, this video might help you feel a little more at ease.
This message helped me today, so I thought I’d share.
As always, feel free to pass it on.
Here is the full description:
“In 2005, author David Foster Wallace was asked to give the commencement address to the 2005 graduating class of Kenyon College. However, the resulting speech didn’t become widely known until 3 years later, after his tragic death. It is, without a doubt, some of the best life advice we’ve ever come across, and perhaps the most simple and elegant explanation of the real value of education.
We made this video, built around an abridged version of the original audio recording, with the hopes that the core message of the speech could reach a wider audience who might not have otherwise been interested. However, we encourage everyone to seek out the full speech (because, in this case, the book is definitely better than the movie).
Imagination fuels creativity.
Both have been helped and hindered by the cultural swan dive into the digital rabbit hole. Personally, I’ve started wondering how much of my time spent in front of a screen is actually living. It’s important to unplug every so often, spend a few hours away from your devices and face to face with people who make you laugh, wandering around places that bring you intrigue and enjoyment or just exploring some place new. It doesn’t have to be one or the other, on or off all the time, but try turning off your electronic devices for a little while and let your imagination play. It can be humbling and even take you on a surprising journey. Power off and take a good look around, perhaps you’ll even trip over some inspiration.
The following is an iconic poem on the subject, from a dreamer and a beautiful mind.
The most important thing we’ve learned,
So far as children are concerned,
Is never, NEVER, NEVER let
Them near your television set —
Or better still, just don’t install
The idiotic thing at all.
In almost every house we’ve been,
We’ve watched them gaping at the screen.
They loll and slop and lounge about,
And stare until their eyes pop out.
(Last week in someone’s place we saw
A dozen eyeballs on the floor.)
They sit and stare and stare and sit
Until they’re hypnotised by it,
Until they’re absolutely drunk
With all that shocking ghastly junk.
Oh yes, we know it keeps them still,
They don’t climb out the window sill,
They never fight or kick or punch,
They leave you free to cook the lunch
And wash the dishes in the sink —
But did you ever stop to think,
To wonder just exactly what
This does to your beloved tot?
IT ROTS THE SENSE IN THE HEAD!
IT KILLS IMAGINATION DEAD!
IT CLOGS AND CLUTTERS UP THE MIND!
IT MAKES A CHILD SO DULL AND BLIND
HE CAN NO LONGER UNDERSTAND
A FANTASY, A FAIRYLAND!
HIS BRAIN BECOMES AS SOFT AS CHEESE!
HIS POWERS OF THINKING RUST AND FREEZE!
HE CANNOT THINK — HE ONLY SEES!
‘All right!’ you’ll cry. ‘All right!’ you’ll say,
‘But if we take the set away,
What shall we do to entertain
Our darling children? Please explain!’
We’ll answer this by asking you,
‘What used the darling ones to do?
‘How used they keep themselves contented
Before this monster was invented?’
Have you forgotten? Don’t you know?
We’ll say it very loud and slow:
THEY … USED … TO … READ! They’d READ and READ,
AND READ and READ, and then proceed
To READ some more. Great Scott! Gadzooks!
One half their lives was reading books!
The nursery shelves held books galore!
Books cluttered up the nursery floor!
And in the bedroom, by the bed,
More books were waiting to be read!
Such wondrous, fine, fantastic tales
Of dragons, gypsies, queens, and whales
And treasure isles, and distant shores
Where smugglers rowed with muffled oars,
And pirates wearing purple pants,
And sailing ships and elephants,
And cannibals crouching ’round the pot,
Stirring away at something hot.
(It smells so good, what can it be?
Good gracious, it’s Penelope.)
The younger ones had Beatrix Potter
With Mr. Tod, the dirty rotter,
And Squirrel Nutkin, Pigling Bland,
And Mrs. Tiggy-Winkle and-
Just How The Camel Got His Hump,
And How the Monkey Lost His Rump,
And Mr. Toad, and bless my soul,
There’s Mr. Rat and Mr. Mole-
Oh, books, what books they used to know,
Those children living long ago!
So please, oh please, we beg, we pray,
Go throw your TV set away,
And in its place you can install
A lovely bookshelf on the wall.
Then fill the shelves with lots of books,
Ignoring all the dirty looks,
The screams and yells, the bites and kicks,
And children hitting you with sticks-
Fear not, because we promise you
That, in about a week or two
Of having nothing else to do,
They’ll now begin to feel the need
Of having something to read.
And once they start — oh boy, oh boy!
You watch the slowly growing joy
That fills their hearts. They’ll grow so keen
They’ll wonder what they’d ever seen
In that ridiculous machine,
That nauseating, foul, unclean,
Repulsive television screen!
And later, each and every kid
Will love you more for what you did.
Check out this video for a campaign I worked on for the Georgia Aquarium. I think it’s pretty awesome, maybe you will too.
Art Director: Josh D. Weiss
Copywriters: Madison Jackson & Devin McGillivary
Have you ever dropped everything and joined the Circus? I did. BOOM! The Creative Circus in Atlanta, Ga. That’s where I’ve been since January. Happily adjusting to a new school and a whole new world of magical creativity in a sparkly, technicolor witches brew of stacked type overlaying semi out of focus environmental shots, kinetic type, puntastic copy crafting, badges and 3D!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! I’ve starting over in a way, boosting confidence in my own decision making. Basically, I made the right choice, for me.
The spike in creative insanity is the reason I’ve been out of touch for so long. Bad Madison! Dear Lord Voldemort, so much has happened during my absence… The Harlem Shake (http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=O0uKp0D4Gfo), the end of season 3 of The Walking Dead (didn’t see that one coming), and Tarder Sauce, the Grumpy Cat, has taken over the World.
The creative dust will never settle (fingers crossed, toes crossed, eyes crossed, t’s crossed) but I’m answering the call to return to my favorite time, Miss Lippy Time.
Stay tuned for an oncoming semi truck of engineered absurdity.
There’s always money in the Banana Stand.
I Love Flavor Ice,
Phrase: “For Pete’s sake”
Meaning: An interjection of disapproval
Origin: It is a polite substitute for more profane expressions such as “for Gods sake” or “for Christ’s sake.” In medieval times, it was considered sacrilegious to use the lord’s name in vain, so when the need to curse arose, people would say this as an alternative. Some say that the name “Pete” is used because Peter was one of the apostles chosen by Jesus, later declared a saint by the church. Others speculate that another curse phrase “for pity’s sake” might have influenced the choice of the name “Pete” with it’s similar sound employing the letter “p.” Though it’s hard to truly know the exaaaaaaaadkfffgnitheiohioeeeeeeee
OH SHIT, sorry. I fell asleep.
I’ve overheard a few people (all of them dinosaur aged) say this phrase lately and every time I’m like “uhhh, who dat?”
I’ve determined that “Pete” can be whoever you want it to be as long as when you voice your interjection you say it with vigor. Whoever you’re saying this to or whatever situation has brought you to this point, someone is doing you wrong and they need to cut the shit, I tell you!
I could get on board with this one. Interject some life back into it. Maybe catch people off guard. Pete’s deserve love too. Even ginger ones and Pete’s with pot smoking dragon friends who frolic in the autumn mist. Okay? Cool. See you next time.
Now go forth and be weird, which hopefully means being yourself.
Throughout my everyday conversations I’ve began to notice the weird phrases and sayings that magically work their way into my jibber jabber. You see?! It just happened again!
I’ve started keeping a running list of things that make me stop and think, WHAT DOES THAT EVEN MEAN?? And so begins WTF?! Wednesdays.
Phrase: “The bee’s knees”
Meaning: The highest quality, the very best. i.e. super duper
Origin: Bees carry pollen back to the hive in sacs on their legs. It is tempting to explain this phrase as alluding to the concentrated goodness to be found around a bee’s knee, but there’s no evidence to support this explanation. It is also sometimes said to be a corruption of ‘business’, but there’s no evidence to support that either.
There’s no profound reason to relate bees and knees other than the jaunty-sounding rhyme. In the 1920s it was fashionable to use nonsense terms to denote excellence – ‘the snake’s hips’, ‘the kipper’s knickers’, ‘the cat’s pyjamas/whiskers’, ‘the monkey’s eyebrows’ and so on. Of these, the bee’s knees and the cat’s whiskers are the only ones to have stood the test of time.
One tenuous connection between the bee’s knees and an actual bee relates to Bee Jackson. Ms. Jackson was a dancer in 1920s New York and popularised the Charleston, being credited by some as introducing the dance to Broadway in 1924. She went on to become the World Champion Charleston dancer and was quite celebrated at the time. It’s not beyond the bounds of possibility that the expression became popular in reference to her and her very active knees, but 1924 post dates the origin of the phrase. I found this answer at http://www.phrases.org.uk/meanings/the-bees-knees.html, so it must be true.
And now we know. But I’m still going to imagine bee’s with tiny little knee caps because I like that better.
If there are any phrases, words or things that make you wonder “what does that even mean?!” post a comment and check back weekly for more WTF?! mysteries solved.