What's next for Jeff?

Recent happenings:

- college graduation

- sent my script off to the Slamdance Feature Competition (keep your fucking fingers crossed!)

- living in Nashville for the summer

So what's next?

Words. Words, words, words. Who knows besides that? There's talk of me getting set up in Las Vegas as soon as October, but as of now it's just talk. I need to get my personal trainer shit worked out before I do the whole manifest destiny thing.

I'm going to end up out West though, in search of my own, personal, motherfucking Comstock lode. My final destination: L.A.

Until then, it's post-college limbo, which is as intimidating as it is liberating. Perhaps my future would be more mapped out if I were some genius Indian kid with a last name long enough to perplex even the most avid of Wheel of Fortune watchers.

But alas, I suck at math and computer science, so here I stand with thoughts in my head and English degree in my hand. And you know what?

I don't think I'd have it any other way.

A Sociologist I Am Not

Well I am, but not on paper. Nor will I ever be.

In my infinite apathy for all things academic (I've been going to school for 18 fucking years) I've managed to do poorly enough in what everybody calls/knows is the "joke major." Not Elementary Ed.

Why would I double major in something as impractical as Sociology?

Because I'd be here for fucking five more years trying to get the never-offered classes I need for a Film minor. So why not Broadcasting or Communications? Fuck. I don't know. In hindsight those seem like open pairs of tanned, beautiful legs.

And I remained abstinent.

My minor in Sociology quickly turned to a major when I realized I could get a full-blown degree with only three more classes. I could be somewhat of a god on paper ("Two degrees?! Fuck, bro. I didn't know you were smart. Hit this.") I didn't expect much else from the program, figuring it was on par with other major sciences like Phrenology and Physiogonomy. And, of course, I was right.

A brief history of Sociology:

Sociology was started by a bunch of old white guys who weren't good at Phrenology. Or Psychology. Or much else. One day they were sitting around this one guy's mom's basement, smoking some opium when this dude named August Comte stood up and said, "Fuck, bro. Did you see the way that schoolmarm looked at me today? I wonder if she'll let me hit."

She didn't, but that didn't stop Comte from planting the bastard seed of further study right there in his knuckle. More old dudes who had gotten suggestive looks from schoolmarms continued Comte's "critical thinking." One of these dudes WAS NOT Karl Marx. See, Karl Marx used to straight up murder the bitches with his dick. He was a philosopher. A pimp. NOT a sociologist. But he felt like being nice one day and said, "What up, my nigga?" to one of the sociologists and they've been claiming him as one of their own ever since.



So what is Sociology, exactly?

so·ci·ol·o·gy - the study of human social behavior

Not that I don't already do this on an independent basis or anything. The problem with "official" Sociology -- besides me passing 30 hours of classes and not getting so much as a coupon for a free Wendy's Frosty -- is that it spends man-hours galore pointing out the obvious and/or the inconsequential.

Did you know urban areas are higher in drug use than suburban areas? Yes, of course. No shit.
But did you know there are still fucking studies being done on the subject? That's right. As I type this, some dude who got his outfit from Kohl's is sipping cold coffee and drawing up charts to PROVE that the ghettos of Des Moines, Iowa are more heroin-prone than the cozy-lawned homes of Fuckmeintheass Drive.

Nevermind that studies have already been done in the major U.S. cities -- they haven't been done in Des Moines. And who's to say Des Moines isn't major? It's a state capital, isn't it? It's home to many of the nation's shriveled dicks and hanging vaginas (the elderly love Iowa).

So what can we do with this information? Scholars will smoke a pipe, read it, and pretend like it's important enough not to wipe their asses with. The rest of us will wipe our asses with it.

And that's the fundamental problem with Sociology: no solutions are EVER provided. It's like pointing at a retard and going "Hey, look at that retard!" (which is part of the reason why I can't believe I've done so poorly in this field of study).

Actually, no. It's like pointing at a retard and going, "Hey, look at that retard!" and then hypothesizing why he's retarded, doing a study complete with graphs and charts and lots and lots of pointless fucking math, writing a convoluted article boring enough to put a raving crackhead to sleep, and then going, "Hey, look at that retard! He has an extra chromosome!"

That being said, how many Sociology majors go on to become sociologists? Maybe they should do a study on that.

My hypothesis:

Whoever doesn't go into Real Estate, Street Pharmacy, or Young Motherhood. So about 1% with an alpha of .05

Huge Update Coming Soon!

Getting ready to graduate on the 13th, but there's one final hurdle. It's a big one too. I'll write about it when everything's smoothed out. In the mean time, here's the poem I turned in for my class book today:

Scenic Route

A thick ass in brown gauchos
pops out like a bubble blown
by the small of her back. It volleys
like a tennis match and my head
remains while my eyes slide
side-to-side. I

held the door for her. I’m
nice like that. She had big tits –
melons, miniature gumballs
to a giant. Her ass
on her chest. The type of girl
that could accuse anyone of rape

and win. I’m a pig, animal, lecher,
motherfucker. “Real beauty” – the
wind, grass, trees, sky – surrounds
me like a million picketing feminists.
I will not apologize for having a

dick.