Apocalyptic Scenario #1: Playing God and Other Tips from Chuck

Praise Chuck.

My death match against average Joe has not yet been waged, therefore I am safe to live another day. However, he has given me much more pressing problems to worry about. Because should I live until tomorrow, I have no choice but to die sometime in the future. The catch is, I will know the exact date of my death.

I lied.

So it might not be my death that Chuck has set up for me. It's the end of the world that will most likely end my life, because Father Klosterman (who now controls the earth and its rotations about the sun) has decided to collaborate with lowly me on exactly when this fated day will be. It will either be...

a) at exactly twelve o' clock on my fiftieth birthday or

b) two days after I die, on my 75th birthday.

True rock critics (Chuck) and their proteges (people like me) would generally try and make every attempt to dodge hypothetical scenarios such as this one. So to get a decent answer, I decided to ask some of my peers. Not the idealists, but the logical ones. Both chose the second option by default without a second thought to the matter. In fact, Rebecca stated "I don't care when the world ends, as long as I get an extra 25 years of life." Olivia raised an eyebrow. Chuck wrote a short article following his question that had absolutely no other purpose than to distract the reader from the fact that he had no answer. And I tried as hard as possible to understand why in the world I would pick the first answer.

For one, I am absolutely terrified of getting old.
And for some reason, this seems like a terrible thing to say.

Don't get me wrong; I love old people. They're allowed to be bitter, they forget things, they need to be taken care of (but they hate when you take care of them), most of them can't hear, and they're still good at giving advice. Society has even accepted that once a certain age is reached, it's perfectly okay to start to develop a habit not accepted by younger adults. Once again, we've let it become okay for 60 yr old women to flirt with young waiters. And beyond that age, it's the reason we sometimes just grit our teeth and bear it when someone over 80 uses a racial slur. They don't have to conform to the new social standards because it takes effort, and they're old enough not to be expected to make this effort. In the next decade or two, they'll die off and their politically-incorrectness will die off with them. So when I'm bitter and deaf, the last thing I'd like to be worrying about is how the world is going to end two days after I die. I won't die because of the apocalypse, no. I'll die of old age or cancer or heart disease. And not to make light of these, but the end of the world? This only happens once (or so we think) and it seems almost like a prestigious award for this never-before-seen disaster to be the thing that in the end ends my life.

HOWEVER,

Should the world end when I'm 50, there could be problems. First of all, the grand 50th birthday celebration that I hope for in 35 years would most likely be planned as an evening affair, and no one wants to come to a party during an apocalypse. But beyond this, what would this day be like? Would death ensue instantly? Or would our race live on with those hardy cockroaches on the nuked version of planet earth? For Christians, God will come on this day. So for anyone planning on converting to this religion anytime in the next 35 years, this would probably be the best option. After all, the rapture could be fun? For those who have lost at least some faith in the nature of people, including me, it's blatantly obvious that the end of the world will come when some idiot with money and a background in some advanced chemistry and war science will nuke this planet. Right after we drill all the oil out of it, develop and AIDS vaccine, and start to find a solution to climate change... POOF. They will be the ones to indefinitely ruin my day.

Chuck on the other hand, evaded the question and decided to write an essay about his 24 hr VH1 marathon. It was highly entertaining, and I didn't think about that question for the remainder of the chapter.
Maybe our politicians are taking lessons from Chuck too.

Conclusion: maybe I'm craving some science fiction.

Joe Six-Pack v.s. Joe the Plumber

I am now in a pickle. More than one, in fact. I am currently in 19 hypothetical situations and moral dilemmas, all because I read about some things that may not be true in a book called Chuck Klosterman IV.

Thanks a lot, Chuck.

It's true, the second section of Chuck Klosterman IV, titled "Things That May Not Be True", is nothing but a collection of nearly impossible hypothetical situations, each being followed by a short observation on something with little or nothing to do with the situation in question. After reading, it struck me; I am blogging about a blog. However, this is my own blog, and though Chuck has already significantly molded my brain to fit his writing style, I'm doing my best to be... different.

This may turn out to be more difficult than I'd imagined.

Possibly one of my favorite dilemma was labeled "the Joe Six-Pack Hypothetical", so named because I, as the reader, am apparently perfectly embodied by the average American we affectionately speak of as Joe Six-Pack. So what if Joe the Plumber is the new Joe Six-Pack? Chuck seems to believe that I, as the reader, am the more "vintage", more athletic American. Works for me.
As this average Joe, I am forced to compete in a series of five events for my own life, and must win at least three of these events. My competitor is also competing for his/her life. The events consist of an 800 meter run, a game of scrabble, a three-round boxing match, a debate over the legalization of late-term abortion, and the math portion of the SAT. As with all hypothetical situations, I have two choices. I can either a) choose an opponent selected at random (maybe I'll get a toddler with 1 limb, maybe a Navy Seal... it's all very stressful) or b)choose to be matched with another one of who Chuck percieves me to be: Joe Six-Pack.

There are several aspects of this decision that I hate. For one, I hate that I do not have a six pack. I hate that I don't know what it is that is making me fight to the death. I hate that I am being forced to race another person for 800 meters. And most of all, I hate that I only have 20 minutes to decide my competitor. However, all is not yet lost! I can't run any better than average Joe, my math skills are mediocre (compared to Joe though, who knows?), and I'm sure that my chances of winning a boxing match would be slim against this average American man equipped with a six-pack. Arguing and words, on the other hand, are both events I can handle. So, against this literal average version of myself, our lives would both come down to the math portion of the SAT.

Life or death, it's all a question of whether I believe I am better than the average American, Joe Six-Pack?
Why yes, yes I am.

?

If any of that made much sense at all, Chuck has listed some bands that Joe Six-Pack must like as an average American. On the list, there are a few classics such as Van Halen, Blue Oyster Cult, and The Beatles. The rest, however, are bands I've hardly heard of whatsoever. These are supposedly indie bands that preach to the average American, yet I've never even heard their names. A few are genres I no longer allow myself to listen to, such as Ska and Underground-turned-mainstream Hip-Hop. No offense to fans of either genre, but to a rock critic they're insignificant. All Ska sounds the same, and it happens to any artist coming out of the underground. It just doesn't work. But back to the Joe Six-Pack playlist, most of it hasn't yet been experienced by my ipod. Perhaps I am not Joe. Perhaps I am more like Chuck.

Conclusion: Seeing as I picked up the writing of Chuck Klosterman over reading one of his novels, I might just go on a Shakespeare binge next time...

Impress a Rock Critic. Buy a Maserati.

"...the band understands a very basic equation: as long as they make everyone money, they will be allowed to do whatever they want."
-Chuck Klosterman

Finally... a reason for me to chuck that U2 album I never really liked.

Yes, the band in question is U2. This band labeled as "classic" and "refreshing" and god forbid, "indie" never so much as piqued my interest. You see, I like U2 about as much as Bill O'Reilly likes Marilyn Manson. For as many years as I've systematically analyzed music beyond it's initial appeal, I've choked down every song off "How To Dismantle an Atomic Bomb" and enjoyed it about as much as I would've enjoyed reading about how to literally dismantle an atomic bomb. The only difference? Had I read about how to dismantle such a bomb, I might've been able to contribute somehow to society instead of sitting around listening to this excruciatingly boring album. I'll admit it. I'm guilty. I never liked U2.

Please don't kill me.

Somehow a rock enthusiast saying that they don't enjoy U2 is a bit like a drummer saying they don't like the sound of a dry hand-hammered K custom ride cymbal for jazz performance... Anyone? Oh dear, it seems I've lost a reader or two. Maybe it's like a chef saying they don't like eating... or like a christian saying they despise Jesus's disciples.

On the other hand, I absolutely love Bono.

Bono isn't like the frontman of any other band. Most bands consider themselves completely legit because they live for nothing but the music they make. These frontmen are only concerned with the music, and whatever may happen to their popularity is only based on the people's complete love and devotion to the sounds that the band makes. Bono, however, makes the music he wants only because he has concerned himself entirely with the band's self image. As Chuck would describe, he's a charismatic salesman in a rocker's body. He can make himself as excited about the band making an apple commercial (they're big fans of the company) as he is about his red campaign for gap or about all the progress he's helped make in Africa. He absolutely LOVES being interviewed because he loves to talk, especially about himself, and he does nice things around reporters just for the sake of them seeing him do nice things.

On another note, Chuck does not like Ireland.

But it was while in Ireland that Chuck interviewed Bono about his band's new album, his newest campaigns for changing the world, and about all those things that only Bono could do. Bono took chuck for a ride in his Quattroporte Maserati (it only means four door, and it was when Bono made this joke that Chuck labled him once and for all, an elitist.) Good deed #1 for Bono during this interview... check. As if this wasn't lovely for the interviewer and interviewee, Bono stopped his Quattroporte to pick up four pale Belgian teenagers and gave them a lift to see his very own studio. Good deed #2... check. I believe he was on a roll.

Chuck must've seen this too, because he began to question "does he just do things like this all the time? Is it to suck up to an interviewer? Oh god... is Bono trying to impress me?"
I then questioned "Was this ride in Bono's Quattroporte the best day of those four teenagers' lives? Or was it the best day Chuck himself ever had?"

Conclusion: Chuck must really love this band. Or maybe it's only the car.

Now, For Something Completely Different...

Due to some unfortunate circumstances the touching not-quite-pop-culture novel Tender as Hellfire has been conveniently...

misplaced.

Of course, in a matter of months I might be organized enough to find it under a dusty pile of nameless objects. I will then pick it up, open it to where I brutally dog-eared the page, and resume my quest to open-mindedness.

Until then, my life has become much more interesting.

Chuck Klosterman may be the best pop-culture novelist of all times. I've read nearly every one of his books such as Killing Yourself to Live, Fargo Rock City, and (my personal favorite) Sex, Drugs, and Cocoa Puffs. Don't be alarmed, my friends. It's all just rock and roll history. The last of the 3 told the story of his cross-country journey, equipped with nothing but a backseat filled with CD's and the occasional rock band hoping to catch a ride with this obsessed audiophile. From these three separate but fascinating studies of rock criticism, my good friend Chuck drilled it into my head to never love a band. It is absolutely necessary, however, to examine the band in question's significance to culture, to mention the band's influence on future groups, and never to forget to mention their most daring musical endeavors, whether ear-pleasing or not. Whether or not the critic enjoys the band, the correct adjective is almost always "interesting", which can be either a good thing for revolutionary groups as well as the perfect word to describe bands who play off-key electric mandolins and scream songs about how the world is flat to an audience of none. Sound unlikely? The average listener would be appaled, but to an experienced critic, they're... interesting.

Therefore, (according to Chuck's critic lessons) Sex, Drugs, and Cocoa Puffs is an interesting compilation of the travels of one rock critic's nationwide journey to criticize rock and/or roll. Writing by day and spending time with one of three different women whom he will meet throughout the trip, he wrote of his travels in one of the most significant pop-culture novels of our era, Sex, Drugs and Cocoa Puffs.

By George, I think I've got it.

Now that I've learned to be completely dry about the topic I love, it's time for some discussion on the book that I am actually reading.

Chuck Klosterman VI, not V, not III, but Chuck Klosterman IV is this book, indeed. If it begins with the author's name, it must be significant. As I browse the table of contents, wondering how the story would match up should I read from back to front (hey, it could be interesting), I find some interesting titles. Bending Spoons with Britney Spears, The Amazing McNugget Diet, and Local Claravoyants Split Over Future are a few that stand out, along with a list of "hypotheticals" such as The Joe-Sixpack Hypothetical, The Hitler Theft Hypothetical, The Stereotypical Jesus Hypothetical, and The General Tso's Hypothetical. I wonder...

So, a very brief summary of the first twenty pages or so would have to go something like this: Chuck is miserably obsessed over the Challenger explosion, which he studied in the eighth grade, and he hasn't been able to sleep without dreaming about it since. He has the privilege of interviewing Britney Spears after her pantless photoshoot, bashes the media for turning her into a redneck, and points out his obvious use of the present tense throughout the story.

Conclusion: I have been reading too much Chuck Klosterman.

Oh well. At least I can sleep well tonight, not needing to toss and turn over whether the book I'm reading is truly pop-culture or not.
This one is.
And I love it.


This blog was furiously typed to the frantic vocals of "Girl Anachronism" by The Dresden Dolls. Check it out for all your fast typing needs.

Klosterman, Chuck. Chuck Klosterman IV. New York: Scribner, 2006.