“You Call That A Google Search?” – The Real Machine Apocalypse

I recently yelled “YOU CALL THAT A GOOGLE SEARCH!?” in response to my girlfriend’s word selection in an effort to find the mean height of Germany’s soccer team.

Unfortuantely, her search term “is the German soccer team tall” worked like gangbusters! First result had the exact information we were looking for. This leads me to the conclusion that Google is smart. People are idiots and Google has billions of searches to prove it.

In the early days of the Internet, you never saw Google complaining about people not knowing how to search for what they needed. Google just accepted that search terms will suck and it needs to keep on fine tuning that algorithm of theirs so that the dumb masses will just keep coming back. Keep searching. I’m impressed with your mentality, Google. That’s what it takes to be a success in this world. You have to be a realist, entitled to nothing. Read, react, and reap the rich rewards. The irony is this: A person who puts some intellectual specificity into their Googling with an “average height 2014 German National Football Team” search hits everything but the target with the top return. So the smart person will actually need to use dumb searches to find the right information to lean into Google’s mass-pleasing algorithm. Google is just making us all do what they’ve already done, adapt to the dumb masses. Read, react and reap the rewards.

The masses generally aren’t great visionaries. If you patterned your life after the masses, you’re weeknight would consist of eating McDonald’s while you watched Transformers 2 on your overpriced Time Warner Cable television package. You’d make $35K annually, usually have voted for whoever’s President, and you’d think Big Bang Theory is a funny show. The masses is not a person you should want to be. You should want to be more.

Maybe this is how the Machine Apocalypse really happens. It just keeps refining the algorithm, keeps on democratizing humans into a aggregated ball of narcissism that has taught itself how to get what it wants by becoming the same. Run a search, the machine knows you. Run 100 searches, the machine assimilates you. Run 1,000 searches, and you are the machine.

In the end, my girlfriend got what she was looking for. I did not. Maybe she’s smarter than me for adapting to the algorithm faster. Maybe this is my long-winded justification for being a bad Google searcher. I can’t tell you who’s more ultimately right in the end. But I know I don’t want to be like the masses, so I only have one recourse left.

My new home page is Bing.

DR

 

USA BROTHER.

I pledge allegiance to the flag of the United States of America, and to…oh, hello, didn’t see you there. I was just reciting my allegiance to this beautiful nation, as I do every morning.

Let’s see, oh yeah, today’s topic…

Have you been watching the World Cup? Silly question, of course you have. This is the one time every 4 years where we join the rest of the world in their love passion Religion and celebrate the beautiful game. My vote, to fully immerse ourselves, is to also switch everything to the Metric System during the time of the World Cup.

Photo: USA vs GER! #Merica #IBelieve

In case you didn’t know, today is a big day for US Men’s Soccer. We take on a BIG German (redundant) team with a chance to advance out of the Group of Death to the Round of 16, when very few “experts” gave us much of a fighting chance 2 weeks ago. To put this into perspective, this is sorta like advancing to the NFL playoffs when you’re considered the Arizona Cardinals of the NFC West.

If you weren’t already pumped for the game at Noon today, here’s a collection of folks that should help do the trick:

Will Ferrell pledges to bite German soccer players:

Hulk Hogan will be watching, and pummeling faces:

And our battle call. I. Believe. That. We. Will. Win.

I’ll be watching. Will you?

Tommy “I’ll have a Liter of Cola” Cooksey

 

You Need to Watch ABC’s “Rising Star” Just for this Kid’s Voice

There are a ton of benefits to having a girlfriend/fiance/wife. I won’t spend time listing them all out, but bare with me as I elaborate slightly on one of these. You end up watching TV shows that otherwise would never own a single second on your screen/DVR ever. That’s right folks, I’m referring to REALITY TV.

OK yeah, I’m now “forced” into watching the Bachelor/Bachelorette (ok ok, it’s now a guilty pleasure. OMG WHO IS ANDI GONNA GIVE A ROSE TO?!!?!?).

Last night, with our HBO shows done for the season, we flipped to the season premiere of ABC’s “Rising Star.” The show itself a knock-0ff of American Idol/Sing-off/The Voice/America’s Got Talent is mostly “meehhhh;” pretty mediocre (eventually the Hollywood heads will come up with something new). The twist is the the contestants sing a “live audition” in front of a black wall and the audience votes Thumbs Up or Thumbs Down via the Rising Star App. If the contestant reaches 70% approval from the votes on the App, the wall is lifted and they play in front of a live audience, including judges Brad Paisley, Ke$sha (so qualified) and Ludacris. They’re reactions and critique are mostly unoriginal, uninspiring and quite frankly pretty annoying (I’m pointing directly at you Luda). “I just didn’t feel it” is not going to help someone who was just ballsy enough to sing in front of millions of people.

“But Tommy, this sounds so bad. You’re already at 221 words and you’ve yet to make a point.”

Well, Bareback Faithful, I had to drag you through the darkness in order to show you the light. Jesse Kinch. The kid looks like a modern day Spicoli, but when he starts singing, chills and awe ensue. Raw talent and finally bringing something new to the table.

Though the show is mostly pretty garbage, I’ll be tuning in just to make sure this kid wins it.

I <3 Reality TV,

Tommy “The Situation” Cooksey

7 Things You’ll See at Any Crossfit Box

 

Yes, I am an avid Crossfitter. You’ve heard it dozens if not 100′s of times that unlike Fight Club, the first rule of Crossfit is you don’t shut the hell up about Crossfit. Disclaimer: this isn’t one of those “support” or “attack” Crossfit blog posts that you’ve seen on your Facebook feed for the last few weeks spurring massive debates not dissimilar to political dates with neither side conceding an inch.

Don’t get me wrong, I’m in the best shape of my life, met my girlfriend and have become more mentally resilient since joining, so obviously I’d be on the support side of this debate. However, the purpose of this post is to point out some observations I’ve made over the last year and a half. So whether you already belong to a box (hehe) or ever plan to give it a try and drop-in, be on the look out for these things.

1. The Chalk Monster

He/she is the close relative of the Cookie Monster who resides on Sesame St. Like the Cookie Monster and cookies, this guy has an insatiable need to chalk up his hands before any and EVERY lift. Look closely around his workspace and you might think you’re working out in a Scarface remake. Bonus points if he Lebron’s the chalk after powdering up.

2. The Gear Hound

If this person tried to bring their gym bag on a flight it wouldn’t fit in carry-on and US Airways would charge them $25 to check their bag. Within this suitcase..err…gym bag you’ll find something specialized for every movement. Lifting shoes, Metcon shoes, running shoes, 3 different style wrist wraps, knee sleeves, etc etc etc. He’s the kind of person that if he played football, he’d wear these pointless arm band things.

3. The Eager Beaver

First to finish the warm-up. Always wants to be movement demo for the class. Often quoted as saying “My warm up weight IS my max weight.” This guy was also a gym class hero in high school.

4. The Way Stronger Than They Look

Oh that girl is 5’4″ 125lbs and she’s got 3 hundo on the bar to squat. GTFOH! You’re thinking this defies all logic and reason, but alas Crossfit is full of people that leave you thinking, “how the hell did they just lift all that damn weight?” Just remember, that unlike Planet Fitness, EVERY DAY IS LEG DAY in the box.

5. The Bleeder

Any time you’re lifting weights and/or doing a lot of pull ups, you’re going to form callouses. So inevitably, during a pull up day you’ll hear someone yell an expletive or 7. After the WOD, they WILL show you their hands and you WILL cringe at their palms that look like they’ve been put through a meat grinder.

(I was going to post a picture here, but its rough. Google “crossfit hand rip” if you don’t get queasy over blood)

6. The Slammer

You’re using bumper plates and lifting heavy weights above your head, so dropping the weight after a successful lift is perfectly ok. But the guy the lifts the weight, and instead of just dropping it, tries to slam it to the Earth’s core…now that’s just not needed. Take it easy King Koopa

7. Athletic Tape

Everywhere.

 

 

Friends Wanted: Must Love Basketball

So I recently sent my “friends” the following email:

Guys, let me paint a picture for you:

It’s summer. You know this because of the familiar heat vaporizing the dew into a thick morning haze that would cause you to sweat through your shirt. It would, but you’re not wearing a shirt. Your beloved team captain won the right to multitask. Sun and fun. The other team is uncomfortably “shirts”. So you’ve got that going for you.
 
Frankly, you haven’t played in a while. And it’s exhausting. I should really drink more water. Your hands are soaked with sweat from touching your opponents shirt. You wipe it on your shorts before taking off around a screen. Moving left, you step with a series of functions happening in a wave of physio-nostalgic perfection. A catch, a turn, a shift in weight, a subconscious aim, and a release that feels unsettlingly familiar. The undissected poetry of motion happens in the space of a second, and it’s all rewarded with a “thwip” that is partly a sound and mostly a fire. Clients, bosses, responsibilities and demands are incinerated by the moment. You are metabolising the world’s bullshit. And you’re doing that with basketball. 

I’m thinking 10 am at Kiwanis Park. 2525 Noble Road, Raleigh, NC 27608. Invite whoever and let’s get a few games before the World Cup or the real world start needing you back at Noon. What do you say?

So I have one of these friends committed. A backout move from the brothers Cooksey that I can’t be too angry about since I recently committed and backed out of watching USA World Cup game (we’ll call it even).

You’d think that painting a word picture about playing basketball on a sunny, American morning could sell a free activity these days. It didn’t. But like any self-centered A-hole, I’m not taking responsibility for any of this. I blame my friends for making poor decisions. If you need me, I’ll be playing my imaginary alter-ego in a game of HORSE this Saturday.

He always lets me win,
Russ Diesel

We’re back.

We're_Back!_Movie_Poster“Dusty, Tommy, where have you guys been?!” Well, I don’t know if “where” we’ve been is as important as “what” we’ve been. In love? Check. Lazy? Sorta. Busy? Well…yeah, kinda. I mean, its not like we Gchat every day for hours on end or anything.

We’re very sorry that your lives have been void of 500 daily words to make you laugh, cry, learn, grow and other stuff that’s NSFW.

So what’s this post about? Well, besides and excuse to post a picture of the 1993 smash hit parody “We’re Back: A Dinosaur’s Story,” this is me publicly holding myself accountable to deliver you the goods (or the bads depending on how you perceive my writing).

To not leave you without any wisdom today, anyone who knows me, knows I was once a pop-punk kid, hanging out in smelly, poorly lit music venues. As a result, I have a soft spot for said type of music. I recently came across a band I Call Fives and the song “Stuck in ’03″ which references 3 of my favorite pop-punk albums:

  • Take this to Your Grave – Fall Out BoyFile:Take This To Your Grave.jpg
  • So Long, Astoria – The Ataris
  • Nothing Gold Can Stay – New Found Glory

Reminisce with me. Boom! 213 words over a salad, topped with grilled chicken at lunch.

Love you, mean it.

Tommy

Worth a Visit? The Station, Raleigh, NC

There’s other places in Raleigh where you can drink drinks and eat eats. And there are places with more SEO friendly names. Those places aren’t The Station. But nonsensical preamble aside, I’ve been to The Station, so I consider it my duty to answer your burning questions on whether or not a visit is worth your time.

Do you like drinking drinks and eating eats?

One visit is all it will take to realize that EATING AND DRINKING ARE THE MAIN THINGS GOING DOWN AT THE STATION, so this is an important question to answer, even if it seems a foregone expectation in the bar/restaurant industry. Besides, here at Worth A Visit?,  we pride ourselves on writing a comprehensive review. There are anorexic people out there that probably appreciate a heads up that going to The Station will be walking into a psychological warzone where peer judgment of their body might conflict with peer judgment of their hiding pita points underneath the Bacon Habanero Pimento Cheese Dip while claiming lactose/habanero intolerance. If you’re not a member of the anorexic community that is criminally underserved in most restaurant reviews, VISIT! This place meets the eating/drinking criteria in spades.

Did you read the name of that appetizer in the mostly unhelpful paragraph above?

Of course YOU DID. Everyone knows that bacon is the ultimate cheat code of the culinary world. Even bacon-wrapped paint thinner is probably worth trying. But replace “paint thinner” with “pimento cheese dip” and you’ve got a dish WORTH VISITING FOR!

Are you the kind of individual that enjoys paying $10 for a lunchtime sandwich?

When the sandwiches are this good, YOU’D PAY $12 DOLLARS! And it’s a good thing, because some of the sandwiches are $12 dollars. Let me make a recommendation. The Brown Butter Beer Grilled Cheese is the ballz! CHEEEEZZZEE 4 DAYZ!!! If it were an actor, it would be Shemar Moore in every movie he’s ever been in, warm and inviting and (probably) delicious. But not everyone’s into Shemar (lolz! They totally are), and that’s okay. The burger was awesome too, SO VISIT! Sidenote: a girl nearby said she liked her salad, if you’re into that kind of thing.

Do you like drinking outside?

You don’t have lupus if that’s what I’m asking? And what’s with the medical cautions in this review? You LOVE DRINKING OUTSIDE! And The Station is for a true lover of unsheltered imbibement. There’s a self contained outdoor bar that is simply wonderful, so that old saying, “Sun’s out, let’s get wasted,” is very applicable here. YOU’RE VISITING!

Did you find the intro of American Horror Story to be unappetizing? Particularly the part that shows odd animal body parts suspended in an unknown preservation fluid inside of mason jars?

American Horror Story!!!

Maybe you DON’T VISIT, because this place has a lot of that going on. Sure, pickling apologists will say this is a charming affectation for the otherwise “cozy, rustic, watering-hole” ambience, but how different is an egg and a baby chicken really? They’re gross and you can’t avoid talking about them unless you AVOID VISITING.

The Station!!!

Now that I’m thinking about it, how did the cucumber become the titled king of pickled mountain?

When assessing this debatably trivial piece of criteria, IT DOESN’T MATTER IF YOU VISIT. All the etymological knowledge of pickling that you need is right on Wikipedia. The Internet knows it’s a just a geographical oddity that Americans call the pickled cucumber a “pickle” while calling the pickled onion a “pickled onion”. Maybe the UK does it smarter (they do), whatever. But you should read up on it IF YOU VISIT, because you won’t be able to avoid talking about the mason jars.

Does the message of whether or not to visit feel like it’s getting a little lost and convoluted as this author takes forever to throw a blanket recommendation on this place?

Relax. This is a low-risk proposition. You’re not signing a mortgage in 2006, geez! IT’S DEFINITELY WORTH A VISIT….unless you don’t like drinking drinks and eating eats. ANOREXIC PEOPLE SHOULD NOT VISIT.

Wondering if etymology is a fun hobby,
Dusty “The Big Pickle” Riedesel