Universal Donor
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You are just a number
to me! And that number
is:

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PAGES UD MADE:

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My Books Page

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My Reviews Page

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My Reference Page

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My Music Page

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My Pictures

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My Store

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UD-RELATED PAGES:

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My LiveJournal

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My MySpace music page

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My Flickr page

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My del.icio.us page

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My Last.fm page

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My Amazon Wishlist

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HEAVY ROTATION

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Dan Deacon:
Bromst
Animal Collective:
Merriweather Post Pavillion
Bon Iver:
For Emma, Forever Ago
Vampire Weekend:
Vampire Weekend
Fleet Foxes:
Fleet Foxes

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BLOGS ETC

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claude le monde
nuncstans
rock 'em stock 'em
tomato nation
postmodern drunkard
tuckova 22
ghastly mess
constintina
total virility
fuzzysquid
drunken bee
stacey nightmare
elyse from ANTM
stereolabrat
dark side points
jf_franklin
123 i love you READ NOW
brotherhood 2.0

NOT BLOGS ETC

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qwantz (dinosaur comix)
go fug yourself
the burg
cat and girl
book of ratings
married to the sea
icanhascheezburger
fire joe morgan
fivethirtyeight.com
READ NOW
hospitality on parade

WEIRD LOVE

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dead amusement pks
craters!

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all content
© 2002-2010
Jeremy Broomfield

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PRAISE & REVIEWS

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"[UD] is a genius."
--Christian Oates

"[Claudia] is fucking awesome, and [UD] is a genius. And vice versa. You should all buy Fear Not."
--Tricia Howey



MOTTO

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egeo huic vigorum

MY WRESTLING NAME

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Titan Gently

MY PUNK NAME

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Razor Ection







WHO LINKS TO UD?

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• from Technorati
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and here's something
weird: my place
in Humor 3-space

  There's a crusty old sturdy old anecdote (I've heard it apocryphally attributed to both Oscar Wilde and Winston Churchill) with which I wish to take issue [say that five times fast]. Unadorned (and Americanized), the 'dote goes thusly: A man at a fancy party is talking to an attractive, well-dressed lady.
MAN: Would you sleep with me for a million dollars?
WOMAN: Okay.
MAN: Well how about for ten dollars?
WOMAN: No way! What do you think I am?
MAN: We've already established that. Now we're just haggling.
(WOMAN gasps, throws drink in MAN's face, bursts into tears, stomps away, kicks him in balls, winks coyly, faints dead away, barks like a dog, hitches up her skirts, or whatever. Lotta different versions.)
     I object. The implication is that a ho is a ho, no matter the price, and there's a pretty clear sense of moral judgment here -- if you're a ho, you're fair game for public dinner party humiliation. Okay, so that's old news, hypocrisy aside, prostitution (especially of the street variety) is traditionally deemed immoral. Whatever. My thought, if I can get a hold of it for a second here, is that the amount of money involved makes a huge difference in the morality of a situation. Most people simply can't say no to a million dollars. I never saw Indecent Proposal, but I always thought decency was beside the point. I can't find the actual quote, but no less a man than Vanilla Ice said something like:

"People made fun of me for those pants, but they don't know. The record guys go 'wear these pants' and I'm all 'no fucking way am I wearing those pants' and the execs say 'c'mon, wear these pants' and I'm all 'no way, those pants are gay' and they're all 'here's a million dollars; wear the pants' and I'm all 'yes sir!' I mean, I got my pride, but I'd sell my mother for a million dollars."

     I hope to explore this more in the future, but for now I'll just locate my fear of success beside this million dollar concept. I don't want to put my music out there for real, or play shows, or get fans, or harass labels in search of a record contract, because I don't want someone to make me a million dollar offer that I would be economically, physically, and morally unable to refuse. I'd much rather scratch my nutz over here on this futon. Wanna some sit with me on the futon?
     Attention old lady in a movie who disapproves of some fish-out-of-water's bad manners: manners can be dangerous. Here's an insipid example that no one asked for: if you put a spoonful of hot soup in your mouth, really hot soup, what do you do? You can feel yourself getting burned. If you're like me, your first instinct is to open your mouth a bit, roll the stuff around, try to get some air in your mouth to cool off the soup, or maybe you've got a glass of cool liquid nearby, and you take a gulp to dilute the soupy hotness. But every once in a while, I don't have any liquid, and the mouth juggling cool-off act won't do the trick. So I get burned. Because I keep the soup in my mouth. When I should have spat it out in the first place. But where to spit it? On the floor? In the garbage can? On the tabletop? Back into the bowl? There are so many things you're not allowed to do in polite society, and manners have trained out of us what should be a pretty powerful self-preservation instinct: the don't-burn-your-mouth instinct. But wait a minute. Is that actually true? Really powerful instincts are not easily overridden. Maybe instinct tells us not to waste food, and it's instinct's fault that we keep the hot burny soup rolling over our tender tongues when we should be decorating the wall with it instead. What do you think?
     The guy who makes my breakfast sandwich says it like this: "Bake-o Na-Negg." Last night Claude le Monde, spontaneously creating a Wheel of Fortune "before & after" category answer (you know, like "abbey road hog" or "dung beetle mania" (sorta)) said the phrase "Neverland Ranch dressing." To which I immediately said "glllaargle!!!" because all I could see was Michael Jackson putting his Neverland Ranch Dressing all over some 10-year-old houseguest's face.
posted by Universal Donor 5:38 PM 0 comments

OTHER REVIEWS:
Scrabble NEW!

LATEST BOOK REVIEWS:
The Game
Moneyball
One-Upsmanship
Siddhartha

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You need the
Fear Not Guide to Life.
Buy it already. ($4)

Now available!
The Broomfield Variations CD
($10)

or go to The UD Store

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MY IMAGINARY GIRLFRIENDS

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Chan Marshall
Rotem of the IDF
Eleanor Friedberger
Amy Goodman
Bernardine Dohrn ('69)
Maya Rudolph
Joanna Newsom
Imogen Heap
Caroline Dhavernas

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Shana Rae Ray

DISALLOWED FOREVER

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"I could tell you, but then I'd have to kill you!"
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"from whence"
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"...the exception that proves the rule"
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any use of the question "spit or swallow?"
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the phrase "drop trou"
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fake-o reviewer verbs:
"penned" for wrote
"helmed" for directed
"lensed" for whatever
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"expat"
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the euphemism
"passed away"
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pronouncing merci beaucoup as "mercy buckets!"
(see also: "grassy-ass!")

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PET PEEVES

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"confinscated"
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trying children "as adults"
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"drownded"
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misuse of reflexive pronouns, as when someone says "Please talk to Bob or myself." Come on people now. "Myself" is not just a fancy version of "me"! LEARN IT.
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tattoos in the Courier font
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any use of Comic Sans

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