Ownership

At what point in animal intelligence does a sense of ownership arise? Surely its basis lies in the collection of instincts we attribute to survival, but there is a difference between having a momentary hold on an object or territory for primary needs and a sense of ownership. It would be easy to flippantly claim that humans alone have this more advanced emotion, but anyone who's owned a pet knows that this is not true. My dog, for instance, knows the difference between what she considers to be her own things and the rest of the objects in our home. Keep in mind that none of her belongings play a role in her survival, nor would they if she were out of our care. So, if both humans and dogs have a sense of ownership, where does this emotional capacity terminate as we descend down the hierarchy of intelligent life on this planet? I can't claim to have a clue, but I often ask this same question about a number of emotions I think I've recognized to have in common with other animals.

Why Is Batman's Suit Decorated With Nipples?

I'd love to see some comments on this pressing question.

Perhaps This Blog Thing Wasn't Such a Good Idea

I was just taking a look at a random sampling of the blog content out there and something disturbing struck me suddenly. Am I contributing to the mass of garbage out there on the information superhighway, that is, the very same mass of garbage which stifles people like me in their quest for information that actually holds some value? Perhaps I'm overthinking things (well, I know I'm overthinking things, but excuse my artistic license), but a quick look at this random sampling (those blogs that were "recently updated") and I think think you'll have a good idea of what I'm talking about:

Let's start with the first offendor, "Meaning of Travel @ SamSam's Rice Cooker". The title alone provides the argument. I mean, I have to give it to the guy for his resilience in hanging onto the "@" symbol long after the bursting tech bubble rendered it out of style, but aren't titles supposed to mean something? What the fuck? Who knows, maybe he's a Madison Avenue marketing exec and I'm the schmuck, because I couldn't help but check it out. What you'll find, if you have two minutes of your life to piss away, is a collection of travel photos, mostly consisting of some poor bastards little blue bear positioned in front of international landmarks such as a locket commemorating the relationship between Lady Diana and Doudi Fado or whatever the hell that master of elongating the whole five minutes of fame thing's name is. Looking at it in its totality, I'm not sure whether I envy the guy for the number of passport stamps he's acquired or feel sorry for him for the fact that the only thing he can do when he gets to these places is take a picture of a fucking blue stuffed animal. At least he had the decency to splatter his page with a steady stream of question marks. I'm certainly puzzled.

The second blog I visited along the way didn't immediately look to be fruit-bearing as far as this argument is concerned. Let's face it, that first site set a rather high bar in the visually-puzzling category. Instead, "Diamond Geezer" looks rather drab, with its muted hues and amateurish graphical interpretations of playing cards. Ah, but look closer my friend. This diamond geezer is so filled with self-loathing that he lists flushing the toilet as one of his many crimes of the day in his entry titled, "Planet Murdering". I'd like to think I'm as socially conscious as the next guy, but jesus, this smacks of deeper issues that can only be explored with professional help.

Finally, I rest my case with "Buy Condylox". Let me know if you know what the hell is going on with this site (seriously, call me and we'll discuss over good drink). The entries say, "...Mr. Pusha-man", but the posts say, "You gotta know when to hold 'em...".

So, I could go either way on this thing. Either I think, "My god, what amount of garbage on the internet is enough....WHYYYYY?" Or, I could take a long look at sites like those above and start charging you poor bastards for the right to read such amazing content ;) Did I mention MC Hammer has a featured blog?

A New Way to Evaluate Albums?

If great music is generally the product of emotional circumstances, should I be researching the personal lives of musicians ahead of their albums? Could the list of recent tenants at a Palm Springs rehab center be more instructive than the review of some pretentious alt-snob, who cares less about good music than he does his “street-cred” at the Sunset Strip tattoo parlor he frequents? I’m not saying that I’d only look for negative situations, yet I would argue that in most cases they do present the more emotional circumstance. I’d be nearly as interested in the rocker who’s had a baby and looks to take it down a notch for a gratifyingly sappy ballad. Then again, I’d avoid the album released just after the lead singer of my favorite band marries an empty vessel of a blonde pseudo-super-model. Buyer beware. Give me an album from the guy who needs to be propped up in the studio with a broom handle and duct-tape, or even the guy who's on the verge of stabbing himself through the heart outside his girlfriend's apartment (rock on Elliott Smith).

I’d love to graph the results of a rigorous study of this theory, but I’m sure I’m too lazy to read through all that crap in Rolling Stone, err, Variety, err, People.

What I'm Listening to Today

First in a series...
Tonight I'm checking out the latest Bright Eyes album, "I'm Wide Awake, It's Morning" (released along with "Digital Urn"). The album has all of the endearing disjointed lyrics I'm used to from Connor Oberst, but he's certainly cranked up the tenderness to create some very delicate songs. The album is entirely accoustic, which certainly adds to this feel, and there is a distinct country slant to a number of the songs. I'd give it a B-. It can't be appreciated in all moods.

- "First Day of My Life" has a nice catchy tempo to it, which is always in great contrast to the standard Conner Oberst lyrical style.

"Happiness is a Warm Gun"

"Happiness is a Warm Gun" by the Beatles is a fantastic song. There's nothing like mixing something as quaint as doo-wop with the ideas of suicide, and drug-addiction. Juxtoposition makes the world go-round.