DANIEL VACCERELLI IS CHECKING OUT YOUR ASS

Reagan’s success therefore indicates society’s periodic need to re-conceptualize its political leaders. Reagan thus appears as a series of posture concepts, basic equations which reformulate the roles of aggression and anality. Reagan’s personality. The profound anality of the Presidential contender may be expected to dominate the United States in the coming years. By contrast the late JFK remained the prototype of the oral subject, usually conceived in pre-pubertal terms. In further studies sadistic psychopaths were given the task of devising sex fantasies involving Reagan.

Results confirm the probability of Presidential figures being perceived primarily in genital terms; the face of LB Johnson is clearly genital in significant appearance—the nasal prepuce, scrotal jaw, etc. Faces were seen as either circumcised (JFK, Khrushchev) or uncircumcised (LBJ, Adenauer). In assembly-kit tests Reagan’s face was uniformly perceived as a penile erection.

Patients were encouraged to devise the optimum sex-death of Ronald Reagan.

—J.G. Ballard, “Why I Want to Fuck Ronald Reagan” (via imsupercoolguys)

  • Me: I remember when my nudes were leaked to the internet.
  • Me: Well, "leaked to the internet".
  • Me: I drunkenly posted them.
  • Me: Same principle.
  • Me: I mean, totally different circumstances, logic, and ethical implications, but, you know.
  • Me: Everyone was like "damn, you have a lot of scars".
  • Boss: Daniel, get out of my office.

Grand More Like Whatever Bro

  • Me: Kerry! Is the Grand Canyon in Arizona or New Mexico?
  • Kerry: ...it's in Arizona, sir.
  • Kerry: How can you not know that?
  • Me: It's a big hole in the ground, I didn't think that merited further investigation.
  • Kerry: Your dismissal of the entire outdoors is...curious, at times.
  • Me: I'd like the outdoors if there was, you know, a mimosa dispenser or something.
  • [ring]
  • Client: What can you tell me about the Grand Canyon?
  • Me: It's not in California.
  • Me: [hangs up]
  • Me: Wait, why am I here on Labor Day? God damn it.

I mean, I’ve been accused of having a domineering personality before. Allegedly. 

Just Wanted A Chicken Coleslaw Melt

Homeless guy walks into the sandwich shop I’m at, and with blood dripping from his ear, demands they give him vodka. They tell him it’s a sandwich shop, they don’t serve alcohol, he proceeds to yell at everyone in the shop asking if they have beer. One of the guys behind the counter finally escorts him out, and the homeless guy gets in the back of a town car, and they drive off. 

I can’t tell if that’s a weird performance piece or if life has just simply lost any coherence whatsoever. 

I made a Kayne reference to a co-worker, who proceeded to play a “trap” version of “New Slaves” for me, so I went to the elevator, went down thirty four floors, left the building, and now I’m home, staring at the pile of shirts I “unpacked” from New York by bundling in a ball on the chair in my room. I think any three of those shirts combined cost more than the rent for the whole house I live in. Maybe I’ll set them on fire. I dunno, am I losing my fucking mind? Is it hard to figure out what matters as you get older? I’m just going to chainsmoke and be tired now. 

I dunno, it was in the UK “Only God Forgives” trailer and it grew on me in a hurry. 

Pox

  • Rich Client Holding A Burbling Thing: As I was driving in, I didn't see any strollers! I turned to my husband and said "there are no babies here!"
  • Me: I know, great, isn't it?

Speaking of ending up with fit women, I really enjoy the weird semantic loopholes some of my guy friends go through to avoid admitting how shallow they are. I’ll admit in a heartbeat how fucking shallow I am. Not that I haven’t macked on a couple tommyknockers in my day (I’m a heavy drinker, there are side effects), but I generally try to check out the seating in first class HA HA BUTT JOKES SEE WHAT I DID THERE? COMEDY GENIUS! LOVE ME. 

I suppose there’s some irony that I end up with (generally) very fit women who are very body conscious, whereas I’m like “ah, it’s this thing…that I own…mostly…can you be a physicality libertarian? am I possessed by myself? this is that complex partial object shit that Zizek talks about.”