Feeling down? Uninspired? Uninsured? Uninterested? Unitard? Stop by your nearest store that you buy things at and check out Mega Chug Energy Drink!! It'll put your balls in a vise. Balls in a vise? I'm sorry, Fred, I quit, I can't read this shit anymore. [CUT]
Fred, I trained for five years in a prestigious acting school and have numerous screen and stage credits to my name, why do you have me doing voice-overs for commercials that make zero sense? I know, Fred. I know. Yes, I agree with you that a check is a check. Do you know - Fred. Do you know what the "director" said to me when arrived on the set today? Nothing. He was looking at his phone right up until the moment I was in the booth and ready to say my first line! And then he kept playing with his phone during the taping, forgetting to give me cues, I'm done with this shit, Fred! Fred. I don't care who he's worked for. The guy is wearing sandals with socks on.
Fred. You're not listening to me. In fact, I'm done talking to you. Put the energy drink on the phone. JUST PUT IT ON THE - Chug? Chug, are you there? Hey baby, it's me. Look, Mega, I know I promised to do this commercial for you, and I know you're really struggling in your career right now, but I just can't take this anymore! I'm sorry, I'm just frustrated, I don't want to take anything out on you...I know...but we talked about this! I said I would do it, as long as it's not too over-the-top. Do you know how you're being marketed? Do you really want people to think you're going to put their balls in a vise? Look, it's stupid, I already quit and walked off the set. It's over! Chug, you're not listening to me.
[INCOMING CALL FROM REDBULL]
Chug, I gotta go. We'll talk later. I'm sorry. [clicks to incoming call] Heyyyyyy what's up sexy? You know I've been missing having some Bull pouring down my throat...Oh my God. Chug, no you don't understand, it was a joke! I thought I was on the other line, fucking phone...no, I haven't been talking to RedBull! I mean, it calls me every now and then, just to say hi, but you know you're my number one...look it's got nothing to do with who's the brand leader. Chug. Mega. Listen to me. Who's got the highest Taurine content on the market? It's you, baby. You know it's you. OK. I'll be home in an hour.
Tweet
Friday, March 30, 2012
Thursday, March 29, 2012
An Important Legal Notice
Insofar as this legal agency is concerned, you have ceased to exist as a human being. This may come as a shock to you; we are terribly sorry for any inconvenience we may be causing by bringing you this news. But we are in possession, at this agency, of a very large and very powerful computer, and the computer's massive and intricate filing system indicates that you no longer exist. Please take this under advisement.
You should be aware of the exhaustive research that was required of our legal team in pursuit of the verification of this finding. A paralegal, who is paid an exorbitant rate by the hour and is already harried with many other tasks, had to travel via the elevator from our main office down to the records vault to ascertain the correct spelling of your middle name. He then had to return his findings back to our main office floor and manually keypunch the required information into the computer, subtracting still more valuable minutes from what little time was available for him to perform his duties. As such, you will be receiving a bill attached to this letter, with the amount circled in red indicating your outstanding balance which you must satisfy as reimbursement for the services rendered by our in-house paralegal.
Further, in compliance with federal regulations, we were required to have the report of your non-existence verified by a governmental office, at additional cost to us. A courier was sent with an envelope full of pertinent papers from our location over to their location, and one of their employees had to take each piece of paper out of the envelope one by one and look at them, individually, with his eyes. His eyes are not what they used to be, so he had to put on special lenses that attach to the bridge of his nose and behind his ears via a supportive wire frame, and look again at some of the very small writing that was written on the paper. He had to use his brain to create thoughts, and his central nervous system to translate those thoughts into muscular actions that allowed him to take a red pen from his breast pocket and make marks on some of the papers we had sent him. He then had to turn his entire body 45 degrees to the left, pick up a stamp, and stamp the front page of the papers with it. After all of this, he had to sort all of the papers and put them in an envelope to be returned to our office by yet another courier.
At this point, I'm sure you can appreciate all the trouble we have gone to in relaying this message to you, and it has undoubtedly dampened what might be a slight feeling of discomfort at the receipt of news that you no longer exist in corporeal form as an entity on this planet. We will not be surprised in the least if you draft an apology letter to us, as an attempt to repay us for our efforts and hard work in regard to this matter. It wouldn't be the first time we have received such a letter, and really it's little more than an act of common courtesy. We would go so far as to say you would be remiss in not sending us a kind thank-you letter and a small present.
Is that really too much to ask? This is a personal request from the writer of this letter, to you. I've been asked not to use my name, only the names of my employers, but this has become a highly personal correspondence. All I ask for in return for my generous notification letter is a thank you, a gift, and a warm embrace and a kiss. Just a hug and a kiss! I may not look like much, but I think I could make you really happy. We could build a happy home together and prepare meals and get in a playful laundry fight in the laundry room, and get on a plane and take a trip to a place that neither of us has ever been to but we both will pretend to know a lot about. We could dog-sit for friends when they're out of town and child-rear when the time is right. That's all I ask.
Any appeals to this highly urgent legal matter may be lodged at the court office on the 27th of next month, starting at 8:00 AM. We suggest that you get there early to avoid an extended wait time period.
Tweet
You should be aware of the exhaustive research that was required of our legal team in pursuit of the verification of this finding. A paralegal, who is paid an exorbitant rate by the hour and is already harried with many other tasks, had to travel via the elevator from our main office down to the records vault to ascertain the correct spelling of your middle name. He then had to return his findings back to our main office floor and manually keypunch the required information into the computer, subtracting still more valuable minutes from what little time was available for him to perform his duties. As such, you will be receiving a bill attached to this letter, with the amount circled in red indicating your outstanding balance which you must satisfy as reimbursement for the services rendered by our in-house paralegal.
Further, in compliance with federal regulations, we were required to have the report of your non-existence verified by a governmental office, at additional cost to us. A courier was sent with an envelope full of pertinent papers from our location over to their location, and one of their employees had to take each piece of paper out of the envelope one by one and look at them, individually, with his eyes. His eyes are not what they used to be, so he had to put on special lenses that attach to the bridge of his nose and behind his ears via a supportive wire frame, and look again at some of the very small writing that was written on the paper. He had to use his brain to create thoughts, and his central nervous system to translate those thoughts into muscular actions that allowed him to take a red pen from his breast pocket and make marks on some of the papers we had sent him. He then had to turn his entire body 45 degrees to the left, pick up a stamp, and stamp the front page of the papers with it. After all of this, he had to sort all of the papers and put them in an envelope to be returned to our office by yet another courier.
At this point, I'm sure you can appreciate all the trouble we have gone to in relaying this message to you, and it has undoubtedly dampened what might be a slight feeling of discomfort at the receipt of news that you no longer exist in corporeal form as an entity on this planet. We will not be surprised in the least if you draft an apology letter to us, as an attempt to repay us for our efforts and hard work in regard to this matter. It wouldn't be the first time we have received such a letter, and really it's little more than an act of common courtesy. We would go so far as to say you would be remiss in not sending us a kind thank-you letter and a small present.
Is that really too much to ask? This is a personal request from the writer of this letter, to you. I've been asked not to use my name, only the names of my employers, but this has become a highly personal correspondence. All I ask for in return for my generous notification letter is a thank you, a gift, and a warm embrace and a kiss. Just a hug and a kiss! I may not look like much, but I think I could make you really happy. We could build a happy home together and prepare meals and get in a playful laundry fight in the laundry room, and get on a plane and take a trip to a place that neither of us has ever been to but we both will pretend to know a lot about. We could dog-sit for friends when they're out of town and child-rear when the time is right. That's all I ask.
Any appeals to this highly urgent legal matter may be lodged at the court office on the 27th of next month, starting at 8:00 AM. We suggest that you get there early to avoid an extended wait time period.
Tweet
Wednesday, March 28, 2012
Retractions/Corrections
It is with great zeal that I, as head writer and curator of this blog, strive to maintain some semblance of accuracy in the material I post. Regrettably, this incredibly high standard is not always so easy to live up to. To follow are a few errors that appeared, to my chagrin, and other people's chagrin, and let's just say everyone experienced a good deal of chagrin, but the point is they appeared on this blog and it's time to take myself to task for it, in the form of a few Corrections and Retractions.
- On May 1st, 2011, it was asserted in these simulated pages that seagulls are unable to fly. I was, as you probably can understand, confusing seagulls with penguins. As a result of this error appearing on this blog, several thousand seagulls plummeted from mid-flight to earth, suffering major injuries and quite a few horrific deaths. In addition, a little over a dozen people were hit by falling seagulls; three were killed, eight hospitalized, and the remainder are still unaccounted-for (likely rendered instantly insane and currently wandering the streets aimlessly). I wish to correct this error by emphatically stating that seagulls can fly, and would further like to encourage any seagulls that are reading this to resume flight at their leisure.
- On September 27th, 2010, I took to task the leader of the fine United States for an action he had undertaken. Although I stand by my criticism, the events that followed have been catastrophic. Staggered by my critique, and suffering from a huge blow to his confidence, the President started making bizarre policy decisions and strange announcements, and began dealing in other untoward ways with the captaining of this country. The effects of his action have no doubt trickled down from the richest and most intelligent citizens to the idiot poor, and even further down to the readers of this blog. Now, I stand by my criticism. But where I wrote "19" in the third paragraph of the article in question, I should have written "shoulders". I have edited the blog post to reflect the correction of this error.
- On January 11th of this year, I wrote a series of blog posts. They were nonsensical in nature, contained jokes in poor or no taste, and were, in many cases, libelous and morally wrong. I take all that shit back.
- On Wednesday, March 28th, 2012, I wrote this entry. As I was writing it, I realized that the purpose behind all of these apologies lay in my own feelings of low esteem. I at once stood from my chair and ran into the street, barefoot, with a spear and a torch, and began a night of mayhem that will be long remembered by the inhabitants of this city. I blew up cars, I tossed telephone poles around like a childish puling infant. I painted fake doors on the sides of buildings, let people walk into the walls and bump their heads, and laughed devilishly as I passed through them as if they were real doors. I exchanged the tires of all the cars on my block with the tires of the cars two blocks away, and in the morning when everyone went to work, nobody noticed any difference. I started a food drive that became unruly and out of control; as I type this I am holding the front door shut with my back while an angry mob tries to cram cans of creamed corn through my mail slot. I flew a plane but forgot that I don't know how to fly a plane, so I jumped out over a cornfield and watched the plane fly off on autopilot, rising and disappearing into the night. (Drop me an email if you spot it.) I rewarded poor sportsmanship. I encouraged the bending of the rules. I shadowboxed myself into submission. I wasn't sorry and I didn't take any of it back, and then it was now.
Tweet
- On May 1st, 2011, it was asserted in these simulated pages that seagulls are unable to fly. I was, as you probably can understand, confusing seagulls with penguins. As a result of this error appearing on this blog, several thousand seagulls plummeted from mid-flight to earth, suffering major injuries and quite a few horrific deaths. In addition, a little over a dozen people were hit by falling seagulls; three were killed, eight hospitalized, and the remainder are still unaccounted-for (likely rendered instantly insane and currently wandering the streets aimlessly). I wish to correct this error by emphatically stating that seagulls can fly, and would further like to encourage any seagulls that are reading this to resume flight at their leisure.
- On September 27th, 2010, I took to task the leader of the fine United States for an action he had undertaken. Although I stand by my criticism, the events that followed have been catastrophic. Staggered by my critique, and suffering from a huge blow to his confidence, the President started making bizarre policy decisions and strange announcements, and began dealing in other untoward ways with the captaining of this country. The effects of his action have no doubt trickled down from the richest and most intelligent citizens to the idiot poor, and even further down to the readers of this blog. Now, I stand by my criticism. But where I wrote "19" in the third paragraph of the article in question, I should have written "shoulders". I have edited the blog post to reflect the correction of this error.
- On January 11th of this year, I wrote a series of blog posts. They were nonsensical in nature, contained jokes in poor or no taste, and were, in many cases, libelous and morally wrong. I take all that shit back.
- On Wednesday, March 28th, 2012, I wrote this entry. As I was writing it, I realized that the purpose behind all of these apologies lay in my own feelings of low esteem. I at once stood from my chair and ran into the street, barefoot, with a spear and a torch, and began a night of mayhem that will be long remembered by the inhabitants of this city. I blew up cars, I tossed telephone poles around like a childish puling infant. I painted fake doors on the sides of buildings, let people walk into the walls and bump their heads, and laughed devilishly as I passed through them as if they were real doors. I exchanged the tires of all the cars on my block with the tires of the cars two blocks away, and in the morning when everyone went to work, nobody noticed any difference. I started a food drive that became unruly and out of control; as I type this I am holding the front door shut with my back while an angry mob tries to cram cans of creamed corn through my mail slot. I flew a plane but forgot that I don't know how to fly a plane, so I jumped out over a cornfield and watched the plane fly off on autopilot, rising and disappearing into the night. (Drop me an email if you spot it.) I rewarded poor sportsmanship. I encouraged the bending of the rules. I shadowboxed myself into submission. I wasn't sorry and I didn't take any of it back, and then it was now.
Tweet
Tuesday, March 27, 2012
Hot Pics Of Naked People
It might seem clear to you that I have tricked you into coming to my blog page with a not-very-convincing promise that if you click the link you will get to see hot pics of naked people. Well, if you really thought that you would get to see that by clicking this, congratulations, you're stupid. But you might as well stick around and read about what I've got going on today!
I heard somewhere on the internet that what people really want to read on a blog is the writing of someone who is an expert on something. I thought, "Perfect. I'm an expert on everything." Actually I said it out loud. Hey, when you know something is true, you say it out loud, like when it's cold outside. "Boy, it's cold!" is something I might be heard to say, if it's cold. If it's not cold, I might say something else, like "Boy, it's hot!" Only if it's hot though - you get the idea. Saying things out loud helps progenerate your thoughts into dynamic word masses.
But what is an expert, really? Expertise is an undefinable (indefinable? indefinite?) quality to have. Who's to say when someone is an expert at something? For instance, a guy might say he's an expert marksman with a crossbow, but unless you let him hunt you for sport for 3 days and nights, there's no way of knowing. So you can't know if someone's an expert just from them telling you, because they might be lying.
Another way someone could come to be perceived as an expert is if a lot of other people that know the person all say "Hey, that guy's a real expert fisherman!" (If the guy is really really good at fishing. If he were really really good at something else, they would say...you get the idea.) But what if all of those people that say that are lying too? Why would a lot of people lie about someone being an expert at something? Maybe the guy paid them to say it. Maybe they're all good friends of his and they're trying to be nice and not hurt his feelings. Maybe they want free fish (if he's a fisherman).
My point is, there is really no way to objectively be an expert at anything. So I might as well pretend to be an expert at everything (even though I'm not pretending), and start dispensing advice. Medical advice, marital advice, mechanical advice - seems like advice on things that start with "M" is as good a place as any to start.
I should mention that I'm not a doctor, I've never been married, and I cannot even repair a bicycle, let alone anything with an internal combustion engine in it. I'm not gonna let that stand in my way, though. The best way to Grow Your Expertise is to get out there and start advising people. March into that emergency room and grab the scalpel out of the medical guy (whatever he's called)'s hand. Admonish him for his poor technique, slap his face if you feel it's necessary - use your Expertise. Tell your friend who is having marriage troubles to divorce his wife. (This one's a can't-miss. If he decides it wasn't the right thing to do, just tell him to call off the divorce! No harm done.) Open the hood of your neighbor's car and pull out a couple of the wires and hoses or whatever's in there. Then wait. When he tries to start his car and it won't start, advise him that he's having car trouble! Put your hand on his shoulder so he won't take it too hard. Tell him, "It happens to the best of us." He will fear and respect you.
First thing tomorrow afternoon, I'm gonna take my expertise out of the fake internet world and into the real world of reality. I encourage you to do the same thing, and I bet with all of us working together (or against each other, we'll see how the day plays out), we can fix just about anything we put our mind(s) to fixing. Sure is a relief knowing that the future is in my own hands.
Tweet
I heard somewhere on the internet that what people really want to read on a blog is the writing of someone who is an expert on something. I thought, "Perfect. I'm an expert on everything." Actually I said it out loud. Hey, when you know something is true, you say it out loud, like when it's cold outside. "Boy, it's cold!" is something I might be heard to say, if it's cold. If it's not cold, I might say something else, like "Boy, it's hot!" Only if it's hot though - you get the idea. Saying things out loud helps progenerate your thoughts into dynamic word masses.
But what is an expert, really? Expertise is an undefinable (indefinable? indefinite?) quality to have. Who's to say when someone is an expert at something? For instance, a guy might say he's an expert marksman with a crossbow, but unless you let him hunt you for sport for 3 days and nights, there's no way of knowing. So you can't know if someone's an expert just from them telling you, because they might be lying.
Another way someone could come to be perceived as an expert is if a lot of other people that know the person all say "Hey, that guy's a real expert fisherman!" (If the guy is really really good at fishing. If he were really really good at something else, they would say...you get the idea.) But what if all of those people that say that are lying too? Why would a lot of people lie about someone being an expert at something? Maybe the guy paid them to say it. Maybe they're all good friends of his and they're trying to be nice and not hurt his feelings. Maybe they want free fish (if he's a fisherman).
My point is, there is really no way to objectively be an expert at anything. So I might as well pretend to be an expert at everything (even though I'm not pretending), and start dispensing advice. Medical advice, marital advice, mechanical advice - seems like advice on things that start with "M" is as good a place as any to start.
I should mention that I'm not a doctor, I've never been married, and I cannot even repair a bicycle, let alone anything with an internal combustion engine in it. I'm not gonna let that stand in my way, though. The best way to Grow Your Expertise is to get out there and start advising people. March into that emergency room and grab the scalpel out of the medical guy (whatever he's called)'s hand. Admonish him for his poor technique, slap his face if you feel it's necessary - use your Expertise. Tell your friend who is having marriage troubles to divorce his wife. (This one's a can't-miss. If he decides it wasn't the right thing to do, just tell him to call off the divorce! No harm done.) Open the hood of your neighbor's car and pull out a couple of the wires and hoses or whatever's in there. Then wait. When he tries to start his car and it won't start, advise him that he's having car trouble! Put your hand on his shoulder so he won't take it too hard. Tell him, "It happens to the best of us." He will fear and respect you.
First thing tomorrow afternoon, I'm gonna take my expertise out of the fake internet world and into the real world of reality. I encourage you to do the same thing, and I bet with all of us working together (or against each other, we'll see how the day plays out), we can fix just about anything we put our mind(s) to fixing. Sure is a relief knowing that the future is in my own hands.
Tweet
Monday, March 26, 2012
Action Movie Reviews!
I thought I'd take a little time to review A FEW OF MY FAVORITE sorry caps lock a few of my favorite movies in my favorite movie genre: Action! Action movies are when there is a lot of stuff happening on the screen all at once. Or sometimes a guy will put his face really close to another guy and say something like "better luck next time" in a weird hoarse voice (it's to show he's really masculine). Action movies are not for the faint of heart. How is there not a band called Faint Of Heart? I just googled it, there isn't one. Boom, the next thing you know, in an Action movie, there's an EXPLOSION! And a car chase.
You ever notice some guys are like, super masculine all the time? You can't even hug them without them slapping you on the back really hard. I mean all I want is a hug. I don't need to be rudely assaulted. Is it because they don't actually like hugging other men, is that why they need to dress it up like we're kind of in a fight or about to get in a wrestling match? It seems to me that if you didn't like hugging other men, you could just say "no thanks bro" in a deep scratchy voice when they went to hug you. No big deal, problem solved, and nobody gets slapped on their sensitive back, which they may or may not spend a lot of time moisturizing. Then you could, I don't know, jump off something tall to assert your manliness.
I guess you might hurt someone's feelings if you were to deny them a hug. After all, they're trying to show you love. Pure love, that's all - like a puppy dog shows pure love to its master. Or actually more like a puppy shows love to another puppy. It's like when two puppies hug each other, then fall asleep together in a cute position, maybe they spoon each other a little bit and someone takes a video of it and puts it on the internet, and it gets over ten million views. What's the harm in that? Who's getting hurt? It's just two guys hugging and spooning each other, maybe they kiss a little, no big deal, and they video it and put it on the internet. Nobody gets slapped around, nobody's feelings get hurt, and two men get to experience the warmth of another man's body. Pure love!
Pure action, that's what I like to see, though. High-adrenaline films. My favorite thing really is a guy is the good guy, he's a cop or something, and he doesn't play by the rules. I love not playing by the rules! It doesn't always go over so well though. In football games, they really hate it when you don't play by the rules. I was the reserve safety on my high school's football team, and whenever they put me in, I was known as the renegade player who played by his own rules. I would make up my own plays, or would just take the football away from one of the other guys on my team and throw it into the creek near where the football field was. I caught hell from the coach, that's for sure - but I was the only guy on the force with the BALLS (no pun intended...?) to show that establishment prick that things don't always go by the book! I got my ass kicked
But not everything can be pure action. Hey guys, you ever have to sit through some silly romance movie just because your partner, who isn't as masculine as you, wants to experience feelings? It's the worst, right? Those super-hot actors making faces and explaining themselves, the female actors doing whatever? UGH it's so boring! I always wish someone would just punch someone else in the face and get things going in these movies. I'm all for experiencing emotions with other men (or women), but enough already. I especially hate it when one of my favorite Action movie stars takes a Serious Role in a Romantic movie, and acts like a total pussy? I mean come on. You know they have to hate doing that. It just makes me want to watch some bad-ass shit where there's a bunch of guys in t-shirts with the sleeves cut off and they're all like "let's DO this!" and then they punch a hole through a cardboard box, and then they hug and slap each other on the back, and all touch each other's dicks.
Tweet
You ever notice some guys are like, super masculine all the time? You can't even hug them without them slapping you on the back really hard. I mean all I want is a hug. I don't need to be rudely assaulted. Is it because they don't actually like hugging other men, is that why they need to dress it up like we're kind of in a fight or about to get in a wrestling match? It seems to me that if you didn't like hugging other men, you could just say "no thanks bro" in a deep scratchy voice when they went to hug you. No big deal, problem solved, and nobody gets slapped on their sensitive back, which they may or may not spend a lot of time moisturizing. Then you could, I don't know, jump off something tall to assert your manliness.
I guess you might hurt someone's feelings if you were to deny them a hug. After all, they're trying to show you love. Pure love, that's all - like a puppy dog shows pure love to its master. Or actually more like a puppy shows love to another puppy. It's like when two puppies hug each other, then fall asleep together in a cute position, maybe they spoon each other a little bit and someone takes a video of it and puts it on the internet, and it gets over ten million views. What's the harm in that? Who's getting hurt? It's just two guys hugging and spooning each other, maybe they kiss a little, no big deal, and they video it and put it on the internet. Nobody gets slapped around, nobody's feelings get hurt, and two men get to experience the warmth of another man's body. Pure love!
Pure action, that's what I like to see, though. High-adrenaline films. My favorite thing really is a guy is the good guy, he's a cop or something, and he doesn't play by the rules. I love not playing by the rules! It doesn't always go over so well though. In football games, they really hate it when you don't play by the rules. I was the reserve safety on my high school's football team, and whenever they put me in, I was known as the renegade player who played by his own rules. I would make up my own plays, or would just take the football away from one of the other guys on my team and throw it into the creek near where the football field was. I caught hell from the coach, that's for sure - but I was the only guy on the force with the BALLS (no pun intended...?) to show that establishment prick that things don't always go by the book! I got my ass kicked
But not everything can be pure action. Hey guys, you ever have to sit through some silly romance movie just because your partner, who isn't as masculine as you, wants to experience feelings? It's the worst, right? Those super-hot actors making faces and explaining themselves, the female actors doing whatever? UGH it's so boring! I always wish someone would just punch someone else in the face and get things going in these movies. I'm all for experiencing emotions with other men (or women), but enough already. I especially hate it when one of my favorite Action movie stars takes a Serious Role in a Romantic movie, and acts like a total pussy? I mean come on. You know they have to hate doing that. It just makes me want to watch some bad-ass shit where there's a bunch of guys in t-shirts with the sleeves cut off and they're all like "let's DO this!" and then they punch a hole through a cardboard box, and then they hug and slap each other on the back, and all touch each other's dicks.
Tweet
Sunday, March 25, 2012
About Me
I realize that my past few blog entries have been a little less than personal. I haven't let my guard down and let any of you get to know the "real" me. That's because you might not like what you see...or what you meet, I guess. Ultimately, there's a chance that you won't like what you find out, or I suppose once you've found out, it'll become what you know. About me.
What I mean to say is that I'm something of a paradox, a riddle, an enigma. No, that's too generous...maybe more like a short, poorly-thought-out dirty limerick that doesn't rhyme. I'm kind of like a haiku with too many syllables. A short, ineffective poem.
I didn't fill out the "about me" section on my Blogger profile because it would be far, far too involved, I'm way, way too deep. I also don't have my last name on here. If you Google Image Searched my full name, you'd find a mug shot of the registered sex offender from Kentucky who has my same name but with the first and last names reversed. I guess you could possibly say I'm kind of like that guy; we're roughly the same age. Except I'm not a sex offender, I don't weigh 350 pounds, and I don't live in Kentucky.
I want to really tell you who I am, what I'm about, and where I'm going in life. I need you to understand my message, my raison d'etre, my modus operandi. Right now I'm eating guacamole.
I need to connect with you: I live in an apartment. I may or may not own an office chair.
Enough about me - let's talk about you. Where are you from? What were your parents like when you were growing up? Hmm, yeah. That's interesting. Can I borrow $50? Does it bother you when people write things like "$50 dollars"? What kind of music do you listen to? "Everything"? Oh, you mean "the radio". I've listened to that. Seriously though about the $50. Can I borrow it.
But I do really want to get to know you, to find out what makes you tic (sic). Once I had a tick on my leg and I tried to burn it off with a match. I didn't realize you're supposed to just blow the match out and place the hot ember against the tick's body, causing it to back out of its bite; I just kept burning my leg and the tick I think died without releasing me. I went to the hospital, where a doctor very clinically and patronizingly removed it with a pair of surgical-grade tweezers. I was like ten years old. OK, it was earlier today. I'm sorry, what were you saying about yourself?
Let me stop you there. If you were a tick, do you think you would take pleasure in spreading lyme disease to people? Wait, before you answer - same question, but with you as a mosquito spreading malaria. You're a mosquito, with malaria, buzzing through the jungle, it's really hot, and you spy a group of slow-moving white people on safari. Do you look forward to possibly killing one of them? You, the tiny mosquito, killing a member of the most vicious, dangerous species on the planet? Don't answer that just yet.
Well, I'm happy that we've taken this chance to get to know each other. You know a little bit more about me, and I know more than enough about you. You're disgusting.
Tweet
What I mean to say is that I'm something of a paradox, a riddle, an enigma. No, that's too generous...maybe more like a short, poorly-thought-out dirty limerick that doesn't rhyme. I'm kind of like a haiku with too many syllables. A short, ineffective poem.
I didn't fill out the "about me" section on my Blogger profile because it would be far, far too involved, I'm way, way too deep. I also don't have my last name on here. If you Google Image Searched my full name, you'd find a mug shot of the registered sex offender from Kentucky who has my same name but with the first and last names reversed. I guess you could possibly say I'm kind of like that guy; we're roughly the same age. Except I'm not a sex offender, I don't weigh 350 pounds, and I don't live in Kentucky.
I want to really tell you who I am, what I'm about, and where I'm going in life. I need you to understand my message, my raison d'etre, my modus operandi. Right now I'm eating guacamole.
I need to connect with you: I live in an apartment. I may or may not own an office chair.
Enough about me - let's talk about you. Where are you from? What were your parents like when you were growing up? Hmm, yeah. That's interesting. Can I borrow $50? Does it bother you when people write things like "$50 dollars"? What kind of music do you listen to? "Everything"? Oh, you mean "the radio". I've listened to that. Seriously though about the $50. Can I borrow it.
But I do really want to get to know you, to find out what makes you tic (sic). Once I had a tick on my leg and I tried to burn it off with a match. I didn't realize you're supposed to just blow the match out and place the hot ember against the tick's body, causing it to back out of its bite; I just kept burning my leg and the tick I think died without releasing me. I went to the hospital, where a doctor very clinically and patronizingly removed it with a pair of surgical-grade tweezers. I was like ten years old. OK, it was earlier today. I'm sorry, what were you saying about yourself?
Let me stop you there. If you were a tick, do you think you would take pleasure in spreading lyme disease to people? Wait, before you answer - same question, but with you as a mosquito spreading malaria. You're a mosquito, with malaria, buzzing through the jungle, it's really hot, and you spy a group of slow-moving white people on safari. Do you look forward to possibly killing one of them? You, the tiny mosquito, killing a member of the most vicious, dangerous species on the planet? Don't answer that just yet.
Well, I'm happy that we've taken this chance to get to know each other. You know a little bit more about me, and I know more than enough about you. You're disgusting.
Tweet
Saturday, March 24, 2012
Being Famous
Being famous is not easy. You have to start thinking about everything you say, instead of just allowing your thoughts to gush directly from your mouth. With every word you must consider: Could what I am saying right now be offensive to someone? Am I really doing my best to inspire people? What will my children think of what I am saying right now? And my children's children? You have to think, stupid. I know you're used to immediately reverting to verbal diarrhea. I know you like to use horrifyingly unoriginal and disgusting figures of speech like "verbal diarrhea". Who was the first person who used that term, and how did it go over so well? I am 100% certain that it was the same person who invented the term "brain fart". Is this what you want your legacy to be? A litany of scatological metaphors? No, you gotta be smart, stupid.
Once you're famous, you also have to start dressing better. And eating right, too. You have to get plenty of exercise, and listen to what people are saying when they're trying to tell you important things. You have a responsibility to your fans to look good, be well-informed, and be in good health. You might say, "Being famous sounds a lot like being a small child. All of a sudden I can't eat burgers at 5 in the morning, or watch TV marathons? I can't aurally scan people's voices when they talk to me, sifting through their meaningless sentences in search of praise and offers of cash?" Well, OK, you've got a point, maybe this is a bit of a hard-sell. I mean, we can't all be perfect. The trick is to start small. Set goals to overcome one of these bad habits at a time, and keep an eye on yourself to make sure they don't start creeping back in to your daily routine.
Nah, fuck that. Just make up lies, it's a lot easier. Run into someone on the street at 7AM on your way home from somewhere seedy, while they are on their way to work? Tell 'em you're on your way to work too, at your job of being frighteningly relevant. Wait for them to blather their way through a few sentences, then pretend you're getting a phone call, and put your phone to your ear and give the person the finger as you walk away. It's not like their existence matters, haha. You are famous now, and that is the only meaningful thing left to be in this world. If you're not famous (or haven't yet become famous...nah you're not gonna be famous), you are going to have a small funeral where probably no one important will be there. Maybe your mom will go up and read a eulogy about how much you loved sports and what a big sports fan you were. She'll be wearing an article of clothing that bears the logo of what had been your favorite sports team. Then the team will be sold 6 months later and will move to a different city and it will almost be like your mom was lying.
So what am I wasting my time here for? You ain't gonna be famous, so you might as well go around acting the way you've been acting and looking the way you've been looking. It's not going to make a difference, and no one's going to remember you anyway. Sorry to end this post on a bit of a downer, but it's quite frankly my business to tell people like it is. No need to sugarcoat things; it's about time someone sat you down and had this talk with you, finally. I should have told you to sit down before you read this.
Tweet
Once you're famous, you also have to start dressing better. And eating right, too. You have to get plenty of exercise, and listen to what people are saying when they're trying to tell you important things. You have a responsibility to your fans to look good, be well-informed, and be in good health. You might say, "Being famous sounds a lot like being a small child. All of a sudden I can't eat burgers at 5 in the morning, or watch TV marathons? I can't aurally scan people's voices when they talk to me, sifting through their meaningless sentences in search of praise and offers of cash?" Well, OK, you've got a point, maybe this is a bit of a hard-sell. I mean, we can't all be perfect. The trick is to start small. Set goals to overcome one of these bad habits at a time, and keep an eye on yourself to make sure they don't start creeping back in to your daily routine.
Nah, fuck that. Just make up lies, it's a lot easier. Run into someone on the street at 7AM on your way home from somewhere seedy, while they are on their way to work? Tell 'em you're on your way to work too, at your job of being frighteningly relevant. Wait for them to blather their way through a few sentences, then pretend you're getting a phone call, and put your phone to your ear and give the person the finger as you walk away. It's not like their existence matters, haha. You are famous now, and that is the only meaningful thing left to be in this world. If you're not famous (or haven't yet become famous...nah you're not gonna be famous), you are going to have a small funeral where probably no one important will be there. Maybe your mom will go up and read a eulogy about how much you loved sports and what a big sports fan you were. She'll be wearing an article of clothing that bears the logo of what had been your favorite sports team. Then the team will be sold 6 months later and will move to a different city and it will almost be like your mom was lying.
So what am I wasting my time here for? You ain't gonna be famous, so you might as well go around acting the way you've been acting and looking the way you've been looking. It's not going to make a difference, and no one's going to remember you anyway. Sorry to end this post on a bit of a downer, but it's quite frankly my business to tell people like it is. No need to sugarcoat things; it's about time someone sat you down and had this talk with you, finally. I should have told you to sit down before you read this.
Tweet
Friday, March 23, 2012
Thursday Night Low-Stakes Poker Night
Thanks for joining us for Thursday night low-stakes poker tournament. I'm your host, Chip "Ted" Wallace. The game is texas hold-em. Don't know how to play? Don't worry. Just hang on tight for one of the most scintillating nights of semi-gambling in your life!
Over here at table four, we've got some real solid action going on. It seems that Player __________ has failed to post his big blind. The game has now ground to a halt; play has been stopped for over an hour. No one is really sure what to do. The big blind is currently set at two hundred, or less than 1/100th of each player's total chip stack. There's a lot of speculation going on: is he contemplating an all-in? Is he unwilling to risk posting his mandatory bet? Or is he simply unaware that it is his turn to put in money? No one wants to be rude and assume this last case - politeness is, as you know, the most important part of low-stakes poker. Is he having a very subtle seizure? The other players have been doing their best to look expectantly at Player __________ for over a full hour now. One player appears to have to use the restroom quite badly, and is squirming noticeably at this point. Another player's eyes have failed due to intense squinting, and he is now functionally blind. The time is 3:35 AM. We'll be back after this commercial announcement:
Tonight's poker game is brought to you by Red Bull, chocolate, seltzer, and Advil. Playing poker late? Feeling beat? Drink and eat all of these things. Not only will you feel great tonight, you'll feel extra-weird when you have to get up for work in four hours! Or extra-terrible when you get up late because you don't have a job and you played poker for seven hours only to lose between 20 and 40 dollars, or make (at most) 140.
OK, we're back. Player ________ has still not posted his big blind. One of the other players has gone into cardiac arrest, paramedics have been rushed to the table and are currently shocking his body with those shock paddle things. What do you call those? In any event, it would appear that he is unresponsive. The paramedics are not sure what to do with the body, however, as the big blind has still not been posted. Player _________ has a look on his face that could be described as "guarded". The paramedics have decided to leave the deceased player at his seat in anticipation of the eventual posting of the big blind and the continuation/conclusion of what has been (to say the least) a very well-considered hand of poker by Player ________. The paramedics have pulled up seats for themselves.
Folks, we've just had word that the President has called for a stop to the natural passage of time until Player _________ posts his bet. That's right, you do not need to worry about getting up early yourselves for work tomorrow, feeling groggy and useless from a night of watching televised low-stakes poker, because with the help of the Department of Homeland Security (and some generous assistance from the Bureau of Weights and Measures), Eastern Standard Time has been paused at the current time, which is 3:47 AM. Word is that the President is en route to the poker room. It seems that once he heard about the big blind situation at low-stakes poker night, he said quote "I gotta see this". We expect him within the next...well I suppose it's hard to say, what with the suspension of the natural laws of time. The player who had to use the restroom has, predictably, released into his pants. The other players are inching their chairs away from him, except for Player __________, who continues to sit, statuesque, with his two cards in his hand. The look on his face could be described as "pensive".
This is very surprising! Player _______ appears to be posting...no, I'm sorry, sorry to everyone at home, that was my miscall - I thought he was going for his chips there, but as it turns out he was only reaching down to scratch his right leg.
I'm getting some more information in my earpiece from upstairs...well, that's quite something...ladies and gentlemen, the earth has ceased rotating on its axis, and...yes, OK, I understand...and has also, I'm being told now, also stopped its current rotation around the sun. Player ________ has a look on his face that could be described as "sheet rock". All of the fillings in my cavities just a moment ago were sucked from my mouth and flew out the window. Reports coming in of waterspouts over central Nebraska. Several nuclear missles have launched into themselves. My microphone is now speaking on its own, in fact I have not been speaking for over an hour. Low stakes poker night.
Tweet
Over here at table four, we've got some real solid action going on. It seems that Player __________ has failed to post his big blind. The game has now ground to a halt; play has been stopped for over an hour. No one is really sure what to do. The big blind is currently set at two hundred, or less than 1/100th of each player's total chip stack. There's a lot of speculation going on: is he contemplating an all-in? Is he unwilling to risk posting his mandatory bet? Or is he simply unaware that it is his turn to put in money? No one wants to be rude and assume this last case - politeness is, as you know, the most important part of low-stakes poker. Is he having a very subtle seizure? The other players have been doing their best to look expectantly at Player __________ for over a full hour now. One player appears to have to use the restroom quite badly, and is squirming noticeably at this point. Another player's eyes have failed due to intense squinting, and he is now functionally blind. The time is 3:35 AM. We'll be back after this commercial announcement:
Tonight's poker game is brought to you by Red Bull, chocolate, seltzer, and Advil. Playing poker late? Feeling beat? Drink and eat all of these things. Not only will you feel great tonight, you'll feel extra-weird when you have to get up for work in four hours! Or extra-terrible when you get up late because you don't have a job and you played poker for seven hours only to lose between 20 and 40 dollars, or make (at most) 140.
OK, we're back. Player ________ has still not posted his big blind. One of the other players has gone into cardiac arrest, paramedics have been rushed to the table and are currently shocking his body with those shock paddle things. What do you call those? In any event, it would appear that he is unresponsive. The paramedics are not sure what to do with the body, however, as the big blind has still not been posted. Player _________ has a look on his face that could be described as "guarded". The paramedics have decided to leave the deceased player at his seat in anticipation of the eventual posting of the big blind and the continuation/conclusion of what has been (to say the least) a very well-considered hand of poker by Player ________. The paramedics have pulled up seats for themselves.
Folks, we've just had word that the President has called for a stop to the natural passage of time until Player _________ posts his bet. That's right, you do not need to worry about getting up early yourselves for work tomorrow, feeling groggy and useless from a night of watching televised low-stakes poker, because with the help of the Department of Homeland Security (and some generous assistance from the Bureau of Weights and Measures), Eastern Standard Time has been paused at the current time, which is 3:47 AM. Word is that the President is en route to the poker room. It seems that once he heard about the big blind situation at low-stakes poker night, he said quote "I gotta see this". We expect him within the next...well I suppose it's hard to say, what with the suspension of the natural laws of time. The player who had to use the restroom has, predictably, released into his pants. The other players are inching their chairs away from him, except for Player __________, who continues to sit, statuesque, with his two cards in his hand. The look on his face could be described as "pensive".
This is very surprising! Player _______ appears to be posting...no, I'm sorry, sorry to everyone at home, that was my miscall - I thought he was going for his chips there, but as it turns out he was only reaching down to scratch his right leg.
I'm getting some more information in my earpiece from upstairs...well, that's quite something...ladies and gentlemen, the earth has ceased rotating on its axis, and...yes, OK, I understand...and has also, I'm being told now, also stopped its current rotation around the sun. Player ________ has a look on his face that could be described as "sheet rock". All of the fillings in my cavities just a moment ago were sucked from my mouth and flew out the window. Reports coming in of waterspouts over central Nebraska. Several nuclear missles have launched into themselves. My microphone is now speaking on its own, in fact I have not been speaking for over an hour. Low stakes poker night.
Tweet
Wednesday, March 21, 2012
Pirates
As long as we're on the subject of things that are really cool, let me take this lovely foggy Wednesday evening to talk about Pirates. Not the grubby "ethnic" type of pirates, the ones that currently exist as depicted by CNN, those guys of course are just criminals, maybe terrorists, and deserve sniper bullets to the head. I mean the cool old-timey pirates that just went around doing whatever they wanted, making quips, and swordfighting.
You could always count on those good old pirates, I'm not really sure where they were from, but they spoke with that cool pirate slang. Did you know there's a box on facebook that you can click that will turn all the posts and like the date and time and stuff into Pirate words? Dope. I just found out about it, and as you know, you can always turn to APKWIAB to hip you to the latest internet tricks. But so yeah, pirates always say like "arr" and "there be the gold!" and stuff like that, and I don't think I need to explain to you why talking like that is freakin hilarious!! Imagine, you're, I don't know, at your job, or just hanging loose, and some guy comes up and is like "arr!" to you! And everyone just cracks up laughing? And then for the one-two, he follows up with "where be my beer?" or like "where...how are ye?" ahaha. Or just whatever, you make it into pirate talk.
But those old-fashioned pirates were the best. They never hijacked the working man's boats, they were always after some stuffy English dude that would shoot cannons at them just because their flag was a skull and crossbones instead of that stupid weird flag the English people have that kinda looks like an American flag but has like, a lion on it, I think. I mean, skull and crossbones?!? How cool would it be if you had a car that instead of numbers on the license plate, it had a bunch of skulls. You know the cops would write you a ticket and give you a bunch of shit for that, nothing ever changes I guess. The other day a cop told me to get off the sidewalk because I was "loitering". Wow, just wow. Seriously? Wow. Really? Seriously? Wow. Serio-- Wow. Really? Wow
If I were a pirate, I would have the baddest-assed ship around, and it wouldn't be hard judging from some of the America's Cup footage I watched on cable recently. Most sailboats seem to be much smaller, and the crews look like they would be a pushover for my pirate crew to take over their shit...from. I would add extra modern weapons to my pirate ship though, like flamethrowers and grenade launchers, fuck that cannon shit. I don't even really know what a cannonball is, is it just like a big metal ball that shoots out of a cannon? Not a very good weapon, you might as well just shoot a bunch of rocks at somebody.
Arr! There be the gold! Aha. My post was getting a little off-topic there, and I just wanted to bring it back to Cool Pirate Talk. Oh my God. I just thought of something. What if you made your facebook posts all in Pirate Talk already, so when you pressed the button to change them to Pirate Mode they didn't change at all. I think tomorrow I'm gonna make all my posts in Pirate Talk and when someone asks me, or when they post a comment that asks me "What did you do, switch your facebook to Pirate Mode?" I'll be like "No!" Or "Nay!" (Pirate version), and it'll probably throw them for a loop. Or maybe I'll be like THAT'S JUST THE WAY THAT I TALK!
Tweet
You could always count on those good old pirates, I'm not really sure where they were from, but they spoke with that cool pirate slang. Did you know there's a box on facebook that you can click that will turn all the posts and like the date and time and stuff into Pirate words? Dope. I just found out about it, and as you know, you can always turn to APKWIAB to hip you to the latest internet tricks. But so yeah, pirates always say like "arr" and "there be the gold!" and stuff like that, and I don't think I need to explain to you why talking like that is freakin hilarious!! Imagine, you're, I don't know, at your job, or just hanging loose, and some guy comes up and is like "arr!" to you! And everyone just cracks up laughing? And then for the one-two, he follows up with "where be my beer?" or like "where...how are ye?" ahaha. Or just whatever, you make it into pirate talk.
But those old-fashioned pirates were the best. They never hijacked the working man's boats, they were always after some stuffy English dude that would shoot cannons at them just because their flag was a skull and crossbones instead of that stupid weird flag the English people have that kinda looks like an American flag but has like, a lion on it, I think. I mean, skull and crossbones?!? How cool would it be if you had a car that instead of numbers on the license plate, it had a bunch of skulls. You know the cops would write you a ticket and give you a bunch of shit for that, nothing ever changes I guess. The other day a cop told me to get off the sidewalk because I was "loitering". Wow, just wow. Seriously? Wow. Really? Seriously? Wow. Serio-- Wow. Really? Wow
If I were a pirate, I would have the baddest-assed ship around, and it wouldn't be hard judging from some of the America's Cup footage I watched on cable recently. Most sailboats seem to be much smaller, and the crews look like they would be a pushover for my pirate crew to take over their shit...from. I would add extra modern weapons to my pirate ship though, like flamethrowers and grenade launchers, fuck that cannon shit. I don't even really know what a cannonball is, is it just like a big metal ball that shoots out of a cannon? Not a very good weapon, you might as well just shoot a bunch of rocks at somebody.
Arr! There be the gold! Aha. My post was getting a little off-topic there, and I just wanted to bring it back to Cool Pirate Talk. Oh my God. I just thought of something. What if you made your facebook posts all in Pirate Talk already, so when you pressed the button to change them to Pirate Mode they didn't change at all. I think tomorrow I'm gonna make all my posts in Pirate Talk and when someone asks me, or when they post a comment that asks me "What did you do, switch your facebook to Pirate Mode?" I'll be like "No!" Or "Nay!" (Pirate version), and it'll probably throw them for a loop. Or maybe I'll be like THAT'S JUST THE WAY THAT I TALK!
Tweet
Tuesday, March 20, 2012
103.4 - The Inspiration Station!
Thanks for tuning in to 103.4. Today we're going to talk about Following Your Dreams. Even if it's totally hopeless, you should follow your dreams; it is worth beg borrow and and stealing just to scratch out a living if it means you can go bang pang poom on the drums in your indecipherable extreme metal band, or plip plop with your paintbrush on a canvas or whatever all day long, or let's not forget blah blah bloo blah in your obstinate, bulky writing. In these times, when you are faced with the choice between either accepting wilting corporate employment in exchange for money and esteem, or walking around at 4am collecting cans to exchange for redemption, you should choose the latter. Choose redemption. Allow me to rubber-mallet that point home.
Do whatever it takes to achieve whatever it is you want to do. Take those steps that other people are afraid to take. You make those business cards that say "Medial Hypnochaeologist" and you hand them out to everyone. You will be rewarded a thousand fold by the universe. I know what I'm talking about - I followed my dreams, and I wouldn't recommend that anyone else do it any other way.
When I told my family that I wanted to be an archer, they couldn't have been less impressed, and they laughed me right out of the room. But that was my passion, ever since I saw Robin Hood: Prince Of Thieves starring Kevin Costner. I hit the road with my bow and my quiver, and was arrested within two hours for Brandishing a Deadly Weapon. Still working with the Probation people on that one - but it was my dream and I followed through on it!
Or the time I told my boss I was quitting my job as Apprentice Bridge Painter so I could pursue my lifelong hobby of building designer crutches. I was so excited when the shipment of the first 5,000 units arrived at my studio apartment. I slept on boxes of crutches for three years, I breathed the aroma of custom crutch wood, I think I even ate one or two sets of crutches. And I never sold a single crutch. But I was able to look myself in the mirror and go about my daily errands a little easier, because I knew I had embraced my passion. And also because I was on crutches and people held the doors open for me everywhere. My leg muscles deteriorated badly.
Finally, I found my true calling in life. It took many years and many bounced checks at the Food Bazaar, and the loss of a finger to loan sharks, and over 75 counts of petty larceny (Food Bazaar again), and one time trying to sell a police car to a uniformed police officer, but I made it. I am now a licensed Incidental Taxidermist in the State Of California (where I don't live, but I'm working on that), which means that if a limb falls off say, your family pet, I am fully qualified to sterilize, stuff, and mount that limb (or other appendage, up to and including those 6 inches in length or 3 oz in weight) on a plaque and provide it to you at an affordable price and with a tasteful inscription on an attached brass plate. I made it!!! California, here I come.
Tweet
Do whatever it takes to achieve whatever it is you want to do. Take those steps that other people are afraid to take. You make those business cards that say "Medial Hypnochaeologist" and you hand them out to everyone. You will be rewarded a thousand fold by the universe. I know what I'm talking about - I followed my dreams, and I wouldn't recommend that anyone else do it any other way.
When I told my family that I wanted to be an archer, they couldn't have been less impressed, and they laughed me right out of the room. But that was my passion, ever since I saw Robin Hood: Prince Of Thieves starring Kevin Costner. I hit the road with my bow and my quiver, and was arrested within two hours for Brandishing a Deadly Weapon. Still working with the Probation people on that one - but it was my dream and I followed through on it!
Or the time I told my boss I was quitting my job as Apprentice Bridge Painter so I could pursue my lifelong hobby of building designer crutches. I was so excited when the shipment of the first 5,000 units arrived at my studio apartment. I slept on boxes of crutches for three years, I breathed the aroma of custom crutch wood, I think I even ate one or two sets of crutches. And I never sold a single crutch. But I was able to look myself in the mirror and go about my daily errands a little easier, because I knew I had embraced my passion. And also because I was on crutches and people held the doors open for me everywhere. My leg muscles deteriorated badly.
Finally, I found my true calling in life. It took many years and many bounced checks at the Food Bazaar, and the loss of a finger to loan sharks, and over 75 counts of petty larceny (Food Bazaar again), and one time trying to sell a police car to a uniformed police officer, but I made it. I am now a licensed Incidental Taxidermist in the State Of California (where I don't live, but I'm working on that), which means that if a limb falls off say, your family pet, I am fully qualified to sterilize, stuff, and mount that limb (or other appendage, up to and including those 6 inches in length or 3 oz in weight) on a plaque and provide it to you at an affordable price and with a tasteful inscription on an attached brass plate. I made it!!! California, here I come.
Tweet
Monday, March 19, 2012
Zombie Apocalypse Redux
Zombie Apocalypse is definitely one of my favorite scenarios. It's the end of the world, I don't have to go to work anymore, there's no one to tell me what to do, and I can run around in the streets tirelessly with a battleaxe, Killing Zombies. I have no desire or ability to kill actual living people, but if it's zombies, all bets are off. I hate zombies. They're gross and usually bleeding or injured in some way, and worst of all, they're hungry!
I really need very little to survive, as I already live a fairly spartan existence. I am well-prepared to live off the land, as long as land somehow produces pizza and burgers in abundance, as God intended it to. I have the clothes on my back, and they are all I need, unless of course the Zombie Apocalypse lasts longer than three months and my clothes either wear out or are no longer seasonally appropriate.
In an apocalypse-type situation, I would probably do pretty well, especially if there are zombies, even though I have refused to learn the basic lesson of zombie lore, which is that the other surviving humans are going to be a much larger pain in the ass to deal with. I can't wait until the zombie apocalypse happens and all my access to fresh water and medicine is fed through a chokepoint of para-governmental control. I can't wait to sell my butt for a bottle of poland spring.
I'm so excited for that day, when the dead walk the earth, and I can walk around outside with my machete and flamethrower and sweet steampunk accessories and decapitate the dead, for at least three hours, before I am inevitably trapped in a basement with a group of living humans that don't share any social mores with me and we can talk at each other until we formulate a terrible plan of sticking together and making a run for it. Or better yet, a plan of barricading ourselves inside until "help" arrives. It will be so amazing when the end of the world comes and I am forced to hang out with a bunch of people I don't like in order to survive. I don't know how to load a gun but I am sure I will have access to one.
It will be great also to ride my murdered-out motorcycle, free at last, across the wasteland, until either it runs out of gas or I get clotheslined by a wire that someone has tied across the road, and my broken body is looted for shoelaces and chewing gum. The key is to keep moving, and trust my survival skills, which I don't have any of. I'm ready for anything.
The real thing to remember is that the Zombies are dead people. They're no longer alive, so it's OK to viciously mutilate their animate bodies. Unless they are the 28 Days Later-type zombies, where they're not actually reanimated corpses, they're just people who have sort of an aggressive rabies-type disease that makes them extremely violent and unreasonable. Even then it's OK, because they have lost the ability to reason, and they're bloodthirsty animals, it's totally fine to kill them and chop their heads off, and I shouldn't imagine I will be subjected to the any of the side effects of taking another living person's life. They are walking loopholes in morality.
In fact, should the definition of "zombie" be even slightly relaxed - to include, say, the criminally insane - things are really looking up for me. This opens up a whole new demographic of people I can mercilessly kill, because they're no longer people. I don't even really need to know that much about how violent or insane they really are; pretty much everyone in like a certain-colored jumpsuit with a number on the back is probably fair game to beat in the head with a baseball bat. It's totally fine.
Tweet
I really need very little to survive, as I already live a fairly spartan existence. I am well-prepared to live off the land, as long as land somehow produces pizza and burgers in abundance, as God intended it to. I have the clothes on my back, and they are all I need, unless of course the Zombie Apocalypse lasts longer than three months and my clothes either wear out or are no longer seasonally appropriate.
In an apocalypse-type situation, I would probably do pretty well, especially if there are zombies, even though I have refused to learn the basic lesson of zombie lore, which is that the other surviving humans are going to be a much larger pain in the ass to deal with. I can't wait until the zombie apocalypse happens and all my access to fresh water and medicine is fed through a chokepoint of para-governmental control. I can't wait to sell my butt for a bottle of poland spring.
I'm so excited for that day, when the dead walk the earth, and I can walk around outside with my machete and flamethrower and sweet steampunk accessories and decapitate the dead, for at least three hours, before I am inevitably trapped in a basement with a group of living humans that don't share any social mores with me and we can talk at each other until we formulate a terrible plan of sticking together and making a run for it. Or better yet, a plan of barricading ourselves inside until "help" arrives. It will be so amazing when the end of the world comes and I am forced to hang out with a bunch of people I don't like in order to survive. I don't know how to load a gun but I am sure I will have access to one.
It will be great also to ride my murdered-out motorcycle, free at last, across the wasteland, until either it runs out of gas or I get clotheslined by a wire that someone has tied across the road, and my broken body is looted for shoelaces and chewing gum. The key is to keep moving, and trust my survival skills, which I don't have any of. I'm ready for anything.
The real thing to remember is that the Zombies are dead people. They're no longer alive, so it's OK to viciously mutilate their animate bodies. Unless they are the 28 Days Later-type zombies, where they're not actually reanimated corpses, they're just people who have sort of an aggressive rabies-type disease that makes them extremely violent and unreasonable. Even then it's OK, because they have lost the ability to reason, and they're bloodthirsty animals, it's totally fine to kill them and chop their heads off, and I shouldn't imagine I will be subjected to the any of the side effects of taking another living person's life. They are walking loopholes in morality.
In fact, should the definition of "zombie" be even slightly relaxed - to include, say, the criminally insane - things are really looking up for me. This opens up a whole new demographic of people I can mercilessly kill, because they're no longer people. I don't even really need to know that much about how violent or insane they really are; pretty much everyone in like a certain-colored jumpsuit with a number on the back is probably fair game to beat in the head with a baseball bat. It's totally fine.
Tweet
Sunday, March 18, 2012
A Few Basic Martial Arts Moves You Should Know
Some of you may know that I am an accomplished martial artist. No need to avert your eyes in terror and respect - I wish to impart knowledge to you. On you? To you. I apologize for the spotty grammar so far in this post, I am on my deathbed, as I have recently suffered a quite serious martial arts-related injury to my duodenum. No need to apologize for your inconsiderate nature, asking me to teach you The Martial Arts when I am in this weakened and basically dying state. I understand, and in this phase of my life, my twilight years, it is my only remaining joy to see you learn these few basic moves and go out to maim and kill your opponents on the streets of battle.
The first move I will cover is the Knuckle Kick. The Knuckle Kick sounds complicated, but it is really a very basic Manoeuver. Imagine yourself on the streets of battle. Maybe it's cloudy outside, and you cut a dashing figure against the flying slabs of clouds. The sun winks at your head. Your opponent flies suddenly at you, with a devastating Power Kick! You must immediately pivot on your right foot - no, your right foot. Jesus - OK, look, pivot on your - there! now counter his kick with the second knuckle of your third finger. I'm sorry, forgive me, they've pumped me full of drugs and I can barely communicate. I meant to say the third knuckle of your second finger. Imagine it the other way around! Seems ridiculous, doesn't it, even to an idiot layman like you. Yes, so, counter his kick with your Knuckle Strike. Plant the knuckle with ceaseless verve into his basal ganglia. He will be dead in 20 nanoseconds.
The second move is the Sleeping Monkey. The name of this move can be deceptive (or deceiving, I'm not quite sure, as I am now in throes of agony due to my approaching demise), but don't be fooled. It can be easily understood, despite the fact that you are an ignorant peasant worker. Question: when is your opponent at his weakest? Correct: When he is taking a shit. Simply throw a garbage can at the top of his head as he sits down on the toilet. I'm sorry, in my debilitated and delirious state, I instructed you incorrectly. The technique I just described is called Garbage Can Shitting Man's Head, and I learned it in high school by having it performed on me. The correct answer to "when is your opponent at his weakest" is While He Is Asleep. To perform the Sleeping Monkey, simply sneak into his house and murder him. Wait until he is asleep first.
The third and final move...nurse, more morphine...no, even more than that...gooooood. All right. The final move in basic martial arts, which even a total fucking moron such as yourself should be able to wrap your mind around, is the Arm. Imagine your...rrrghh...i'm dying...rrrr....your opponent shambling towards you. He is gnashing his teeth viciously, as the gears of a Chevy with a busted timing belt might gnash together. He is fearsome, cut like a statue out of marble. Beautiful, even. You want nothing more than to suck his dick. But he strikes out at you with a frightening array of kicks and punches! Much to your chagrin. You step aside, and allow the kicks and punches to go hurtling off into outer space. Now step in and hit him with your Arm. His whole fuckin head will just completely fly off. You are victorious.
I must go to my death now. But I trust I will meet you on the streets of the afterlife of battles, and we will bow to each other and then give each other a fabulous bro hug. Hail.
Tweet
The first move I will cover is the Knuckle Kick. The Knuckle Kick sounds complicated, but it is really a very basic Manoeuver. Imagine yourself on the streets of battle. Maybe it's cloudy outside, and you cut a dashing figure against the flying slabs of clouds. The sun winks at your head. Your opponent flies suddenly at you, with a devastating Power Kick! You must immediately pivot on your right foot - no, your right foot. Jesus - OK, look, pivot on your - there! now counter his kick with the second knuckle of your third finger. I'm sorry, forgive me, they've pumped me full of drugs and I can barely communicate. I meant to say the third knuckle of your second finger. Imagine it the other way around! Seems ridiculous, doesn't it, even to an idiot layman like you. Yes, so, counter his kick with your Knuckle Strike. Plant the knuckle with ceaseless verve into his basal ganglia. He will be dead in 20 nanoseconds.
The second move is the Sleeping Monkey. The name of this move can be deceptive (or deceiving, I'm not quite sure, as I am now in throes of agony due to my approaching demise), but don't be fooled. It can be easily understood, despite the fact that you are an ignorant peasant worker. Question: when is your opponent at his weakest? Correct: When he is taking a shit. Simply throw a garbage can at the top of his head as he sits down on the toilet. I'm sorry, in my debilitated and delirious state, I instructed you incorrectly. The technique I just described is called Garbage Can Shitting Man's Head, and I learned it in high school by having it performed on me. The correct answer to "when is your opponent at his weakest" is While He Is Asleep. To perform the Sleeping Monkey, simply sneak into his house and murder him. Wait until he is asleep first.
The third and final move...nurse, more morphine...no, even more than that...gooooood. All right. The final move in basic martial arts, which even a total fucking moron such as yourself should be able to wrap your mind around, is the Arm. Imagine your...rrrghh...i'm dying...rrrr....your opponent shambling towards you. He is gnashing his teeth viciously, as the gears of a Chevy with a busted timing belt might gnash together. He is fearsome, cut like a statue out of marble. Beautiful, even. You want nothing more than to suck his dick. But he strikes out at you with a frightening array of kicks and punches! Much to your chagrin. You step aside, and allow the kicks and punches to go hurtling off into outer space. Now step in and hit him with your Arm. His whole fuckin head will just completely fly off. You are victorious.
I must go to my death now. But I trust I will meet you on the streets of the afterlife of battles, and we will bow to each other and then give each other a fabulous bro hug. Hail.
Tweet
Saturday, March 17, 2012
Well, I can see by the back of Mr. Jordan Peterson's head that he has NOT been listening to my lecture for most of the past hour, as he has favored talking to Ms. Rebecca Templeton instead. So why don't you come up to the front of the class, Jordan, and tell us all what you were talking about? Better yet, why don't you come up and tell me what I was talking about? Never mind, how about you tell Rebecca what you think I was talking about, loudly enough for the whole class to hear. Strike that, I think you should go out in the hall until the end of class. To the principal's office, perhaps? To the room with just the phone and the copy machine in it, and lock yourself in.
Maybe Mr. Jordan Peterson would like it if he found himself sent home early today? Suspended for three days? Suspended for five days. Suspended by his thumbs from a flagpole? I'm going to have to write a note for you to take home to your parents. No, actually, I'm going to call your parents myself. Better yet, I'm going to write a note for you to take home and have you call me and read the note to your parents while I'm on the phone. I think the only thing that makes sense is for me to call your parents, talk to them for a while, get to know them, then write them a note and swallow it.
You are a failure, do you realize that, Mr. Peterson, do you not? You are not going anywhere in this life and will never realize what potential you might have had, if you had potential, which you do not. Do you not realize the potential you do not have? Life? Realize. Potential? Do you not? A common house
Tweet
Maybe Mr. Jordan Peterson would like it if he found himself sent home early today? Suspended for three days? Suspended for five days. Suspended by his thumbs from a flagpole? I'm going to have to write a note for you to take home to your parents. No, actually, I'm going to call your parents myself. Better yet, I'm going to write a note for you to take home and have you call me and read the note to your parents while I'm on the phone. I think the only thing that makes sense is for me to call your parents, talk to them for a while, get to know them, then write them a note and swallow it.
You are a failure, do you realize that, Mr. Peterson, do you not? You are not going anywhere in this life and will never realize what potential you might have had, if you had potential, which you do not. Do you not realize the potential you do not have? Life? Realize. Potential? Do you not? A common house
Tweet
Friday, March 16, 2012
Urban Survival Tips - Part 1
Most people are not prepared to deal with the realities of living in a gritty big-city environment. They're probably from the suburbs or from Iowa or the suburbs of Iowa or something. They look at the city and see a big playground. Well, those people are in for a rude awakening. The city is a very dangerous and hazardous place. Crime, greed, litter - these are the harsh realities of living in a punishing urban environment. Sometimes it's hard to think about, I know. You don't have to tell me, I've been walking these mean streets every day since I moved here five years ago, and it is no picnic. (Except on days when I have picnics.)
Do you have what it takes to survive here? Well, you should ask yourself a few hard questions. First:
Can you stand to ride on a subway?
Caught you off guard there, didn't I? I apologize for being so harsh and brutal in my line of questioning, but I'm a product of my environment. Besides, it's for your own good that I put you through this hellish self-examination; I want to save you the inevitable crushing of dreams and shattering of illusions that doubtlessly awaits you, lurking like a fat lion in this terrifying urban jungle wasteland.
That's right, I asked if you can bring yourself to ride on a subway. Let me walk you through this nightmare that city-dwellers such as myself have to endure on a sometimes daily basis. First, you have to get on the train. This is a draconian process, to say the least. You have to buy a card from a mindless automaton machine that relentlessly questions you about what kind of card you want to buy. If you make it through that, you have to pass through the "turnstiles", which should remind anyone with half a brain of NAZI GERMANY. If you make it that far, which I would say maybe 20% of you are fit to do, you are on the Platform.
The Platform is like Hell. There's an automated voice reminding you how long until the next train arrives - but it's up to you to know which train you want to catch! Good luck, sucker, you're in way over your head and there's no turning back now. There are seats usually available on the platform, sure, but they're not very comfortable. Read on, if you dare.
While you're waiting for your train, you may notice something quite disturbing and frightening. There are, like, a ton of other people standing all around. Most of them look like total dicks. Keep a cool head, because you're going to need it for what comes next. You've made it this far, which is a miracle, but now the train is pulling up. It is super loud. You wonder if your feeble mind can stand any more, and then the doors open! MORE PEOPLE come walking out of the train. It's really crowded, you're sweating a LOT, and you're expected to figure out how to get on this train while other people are getting off?!?!
Here's where most people lose it: getting on the train. Some never make it on, they simply clutch their knees and roll around on the ground, mewling and drooling, until city officials arrive to take them to a nearby Sanitorium. But I'll give you the benefit of the doubt. I'm a hard-nosed toughman, but I still have a tiny shred of compassion whispering around in my empty, blackened insides. You have made it this far, and I think I owe it to you to reveal the most horrifying detail of this continually horrifying ordeal...
There is a GAP between the Platform and the Train. OK, just relax...easy...it's OK if you need to throw up or bite through one of your fingers due to mental anguish. That's right, the train doesn't just pull up flush against the platform. There is a space big enough to fit your whole foot in!! (If you turn it sideways.) Watch The Gap? Heh. More like watch your MIND completely be torn asunder by shapeless black panic!! Get over that gap, and I may have a modicum of respect for you. But if you do make it (and I'm pretty sure you definitely have NO CHANCE of making it), nothing you faced so far can prepare you for the ghastly chamber you must now enter...
TO BE CONTINUED: PART 2 - INSIDE THE SUBWAY CAR
Tweet
Do you have what it takes to survive here? Well, you should ask yourself a few hard questions. First:
Can you stand to ride on a subway?
Caught you off guard there, didn't I? I apologize for being so harsh and brutal in my line of questioning, but I'm a product of my environment. Besides, it's for your own good that I put you through this hellish self-examination; I want to save you the inevitable crushing of dreams and shattering of illusions that doubtlessly awaits you, lurking like a fat lion in this terrifying urban jungle wasteland.
That's right, I asked if you can bring yourself to ride on a subway. Let me walk you through this nightmare that city-dwellers such as myself have to endure on a sometimes daily basis. First, you have to get on the train. This is a draconian process, to say the least. You have to buy a card from a mindless automaton machine that relentlessly questions you about what kind of card you want to buy. If you make it through that, you have to pass through the "turnstiles", which should remind anyone with half a brain of NAZI GERMANY. If you make it that far, which I would say maybe 20% of you are fit to do, you are on the Platform.
The Platform is like Hell. There's an automated voice reminding you how long until the next train arrives - but it's up to you to know which train you want to catch! Good luck, sucker, you're in way over your head and there's no turning back now. There are seats usually available on the platform, sure, but they're not very comfortable. Read on, if you dare.
While you're waiting for your train, you may notice something quite disturbing and frightening. There are, like, a ton of other people standing all around. Most of them look like total dicks. Keep a cool head, because you're going to need it for what comes next. You've made it this far, which is a miracle, but now the train is pulling up. It is super loud. You wonder if your feeble mind can stand any more, and then the doors open! MORE PEOPLE come walking out of the train. It's really crowded, you're sweating a LOT, and you're expected to figure out how to get on this train while other people are getting off?!?!
Here's where most people lose it: getting on the train. Some never make it on, they simply clutch their knees and roll around on the ground, mewling and drooling, until city officials arrive to take them to a nearby Sanitorium. But I'll give you the benefit of the doubt. I'm a hard-nosed toughman, but I still have a tiny shred of compassion whispering around in my empty, blackened insides. You have made it this far, and I think I owe it to you to reveal the most horrifying detail of this continually horrifying ordeal...
There is a GAP between the Platform and the Train. OK, just relax...easy...it's OK if you need to throw up or bite through one of your fingers due to mental anguish. That's right, the train doesn't just pull up flush against the platform. There is a space big enough to fit your whole foot in!! (If you turn it sideways.) Watch The Gap? Heh. More like watch your MIND completely be torn asunder by shapeless black panic!! Get over that gap, and I may have a modicum of respect for you. But if you do make it (and I'm pretty sure you definitely have NO CHANCE of making it), nothing you faced so far can prepare you for the ghastly chamber you must now enter...
TO BE CONTINUED: PART 2 - INSIDE THE SUBWAY CAR
Tweet
Thursday, March 15, 2012
Your JobHunters Account
Thank you for registering on JobHunters.com, the newest and most premiere advancement site for placing current Job Lackers into uncompromising positions of excellence in the worlds of coefficiency and exactitude. If you are receiving this email, it is because you recently registered a JobHunters account! Welcome to JobHunters. You're probably going to want to get started right away on your Job Search, and begin making Contacts with eligible Employers who are looking for Prime Candidates to work and worry Ceaselessly. Let's start by getting to know you - you already know us!
Are you returning to work after having been laid off? Did something heavy fall on you and you are experiencing Decreased Workload Capacity? Are you looking to change Careers due to a need to flee the state you currently live in? Are you a house pet? If so, you need look no further. Your job search is potentially over! In fact, you might as well start planning your vacation and collection of imminent fat paychecks right now.
JobHunters.com. Say it slowly. Look at yourself in the mirror and say it while you eat your breakfast cereal. It's ok if you spill some on yourself - everyone drops food out of their mouth from time to time! JobHunters.com. Repeat it several dozen times while you put your hands all over yourself. Enjoy the sensations.
Don't believe what your brain and all the people you know say about your prospects in Today's Tough Job Market and Totally Fucking Devastated (but Constantly Improving) Economy. You are your own best employee! You've never been unemployed at being alive, have you? You've never shown up late for making your heart beat or for having air push in and out of your lungs! You are far more dependable and trustworthy than anyone in the world gives you credit for. JobHunters.net
We have infinite respect and admiration for your Potential. Please speak this AUDIO CAPTCHA directly into your computer's monitor: HARGREAVES OMINOUSLY. Sorry, please try again. We are very lonely at JobHunters.org
Thanks again for registering an account at JobSeekers.com. You are now that much closer to a career in which you do nothing. That's what you want to do, isn't it, you aimless son of a bitch? You just want to sit there and have a pulse and get paid, without having to do anything. You ungrateful fucking bastard. You want to live and be happy in this world without attaching something to your face and letting it suck your life directly into a paper shredder. Want to avoid having your life shredded by a paper shredder? Look no further. Stop searching. Avoid. The only bad thing that ever came out of a good, quality JobHunt is a sense that you are not worth anything.
Tweet
Are you returning to work after having been laid off? Did something heavy fall on you and you are experiencing Decreased Workload Capacity? Are you looking to change Careers due to a need to flee the state you currently live in? Are you a house pet? If so, you need look no further. Your job search is potentially over! In fact, you might as well start planning your vacation and collection of imminent fat paychecks right now.
JobHunters.com. Say it slowly. Look at yourself in the mirror and say it while you eat your breakfast cereal. It's ok if you spill some on yourself - everyone drops food out of their mouth from time to time! JobHunters.com. Repeat it several dozen times while you put your hands all over yourself. Enjoy the sensations.
Don't believe what your brain and all the people you know say about your prospects in Today's Tough Job Market and Totally Fucking Devastated (but Constantly Improving) Economy. You are your own best employee! You've never been unemployed at being alive, have you? You've never shown up late for making your heart beat or for having air push in and out of your lungs! You are far more dependable and trustworthy than anyone in the world gives you credit for. JobHunters.net
We have infinite respect and admiration for your Potential. Please speak this AUDIO CAPTCHA directly into your computer's monitor: HARGREAVES OMINOUSLY. Sorry, please try again. We are very lonely at JobHunters.org
Thanks again for registering an account at JobSeekers.com. You are now that much closer to a career in which you do nothing. That's what you want to do, isn't it, you aimless son of a bitch? You just want to sit there and have a pulse and get paid, without having to do anything. You ungrateful fucking bastard. You want to live and be happy in this world without attaching something to your face and letting it suck your life directly into a paper shredder. Want to avoid having your life shredded by a paper shredder? Look no further. Stop searching. Avoid. The only bad thing that ever came out of a good, quality JobHunt is a sense that you are not worth anything.
Tweet
Wednesday, March 14, 2012
Downloading Shit
"I download music/movies/_________ illegally but if I like it I'll buy it" - A Liar
Haha, no you won't. Why would you buy something once you already have it for free? Oh, to support the artist? I can see the logic behind that. Haha, no I can't. Do you also steal Tide from CVS and if it gets your clothes really clean you go give them money? I'm sorry, I'm just fucking with you - from what I understand, there are people who actually do this - download an artist's album or something and then make a donation if they like it. But you're not going to! I know you. You don't do things like that. You say things like that so you can get out of paying for things, that's what you do.
Like remember a few months ago when Louis CK came out with the video of his special at the Beacon theatre, available only from his site for $5? You stole that shit. I know you did! Dude I fucking know you did. Because Free is still better than Five Dollars. That's an immutable law. I learned that fuckin shit in 7th grade, in like, physics or something. Someone discovered that shit in the middle ages or whatever.
And when your friend's band came out with an album, and they put it up on the internet for sale, and you found a copy for free somewhere else on the internet? You downloaded that free shit. And on top of that, you secretly resented your friend (and, by proxy, his entire band) for having the nerve to suggest that you pay for what is essentially a free album. If he were a real friend, if he really cared about your opinion of his band, he would have sent you a download code for a free copy of the album, so you wouldn't have to listen to the shitty 192kbps MP3 version of it that you ended up with, and BESIDES, THE ALBUM ISN'T EVEN THAT GOOD. What a dick your fucking friend is.
And fuck movies though. You don't even begin to understand why someone would pay to rent or buy an actual physical copy of a movie. 2012, dude. Come on. Movie studios have tons of money! Tons of money. Movie stars. Production and shit. Plus they constantly are blocking off the street to film these piece of shit movies, and you can never find a parking space for your car. As far as you are concerned, movie studios owe you free movies, and possibly a free parking space. You should do that thing again where you eat some cheese and crackers out of the catering tent the next time you walk by it. And if you like the cheese and crackers, you'll mail a box of Ritz to Warner Brothers. IF you like it.
Tweet
Haha, no you won't. Why would you buy something once you already have it for free? Oh, to support the artist? I can see the logic behind that. Haha, no I can't. Do you also steal Tide from CVS and if it gets your clothes really clean you go give them money? I'm sorry, I'm just fucking with you - from what I understand, there are people who actually do this - download an artist's album or something and then make a donation if they like it. But you're not going to! I know you. You don't do things like that. You say things like that so you can get out of paying for things, that's what you do.
Like remember a few months ago when Louis CK came out with the video of his special at the Beacon theatre, available only from his site for $5? You stole that shit. I know you did! Dude I fucking know you did. Because Free is still better than Five Dollars. That's an immutable law. I learned that fuckin shit in 7th grade, in like, physics or something. Someone discovered that shit in the middle ages or whatever.
And when your friend's band came out with an album, and they put it up on the internet for sale, and you found a copy for free somewhere else on the internet? You downloaded that free shit. And on top of that, you secretly resented your friend (and, by proxy, his entire band) for having the nerve to suggest that you pay for what is essentially a free album. If he were a real friend, if he really cared about your opinion of his band, he would have sent you a download code for a free copy of the album, so you wouldn't have to listen to the shitty 192kbps MP3 version of it that you ended up with, and BESIDES, THE ALBUM ISN'T EVEN THAT GOOD. What a dick your fucking friend is.
And fuck movies though. You don't even begin to understand why someone would pay to rent or buy an actual physical copy of a movie. 2012, dude. Come on. Movie studios have tons of money! Tons of money. Movie stars. Production and shit. Plus they constantly are blocking off the street to film these piece of shit movies, and you can never find a parking space for your car. As far as you are concerned, movie studios owe you free movies, and possibly a free parking space. You should do that thing again where you eat some cheese and crackers out of the catering tent the next time you walk by it. And if you like the cheese and crackers, you'll mail a box of Ritz to Warner Brothers. IF you like it.
Tweet
Tuesday, March 13, 2012
Hi, welcome to your nightmare
Hello, and welcome to your nightmare. If you'd like to have your balls murdered, please press ONE. (beep)
You have selected "Murder my balls". If this is correct, press ONE. (beep)
If you'd like to have your balls murdered while you sleep, press ONE. If your balls have already been murdered, and you'd like to arrange to have it look like they committed suicide, Log On to our Internet Web Site at www.balls.org/murder and answer the questions provided. If you'd like it to look like one of your balls murdered the other one and then took its own life, Log On to our Internet Web Site at www.balls.org/murder_suicide and answer the questions provided.
------------------------
If you have a child, and I'm not saying that you should have a child, because you obviously shouldn't, but if you do, perhaps due to prophylactic malfunction or other mishap (sperm gun misfire while cleaning it and it's pointed at your vagina or your S.O.'s vagina), you should immediately teach it to play the guitar. This will provide it with a solid foundation for a life of not only financial stability, but artistic and aesthetic fulfillment, not to mention a skill that will set it apart from just about everyone else in the world. It definitely won't grow up in a sea of identical individuals that believe they are also unique and gifted, and certainly won't waste like 7 years learning to play the guitar while everyone else does, I don't know, whatever everyone else does that sets them up with a reasonable marketable skill for the rest of their lives. You should also teach them to ride a skateboard.
-----------------------
Welcome to Satan's Dentist Office waiting room. You have been provided with an 8-ounce can of Coca-Cola, for which you will be billed $3 USD.
----------------------
I'm not going to sit here and pretend that I know what I'm talking about. Even if I did, probably no one would have read through that godawful block of text to get this far anyway. I'm working on a total overhaul of this site. It will consist, in the future, of photos to reblog, lists of things, and simulated humor.
It's nice out today, but I don't really like it when it's nice out, so for me it's not really that nice (to me). But it's, let's say, objectively nice. Great weather to pull up a stretch of barren earth and cook your face until it's a different color than it was when you first lay down (unless you have a face that remains unmodified by continued exposure to sunlight). Yep, just a nice day to put on some short shorts and let your ten-inch dick flop out of them, and walk around with your tongue hanging out of your mouth, and you know, get an iced coffee. Just fuckin juice up your brain with weak meta-amphetaminic chemicals and slop around with your fat ass plopping along behind you. Maybe grab a Monster or a Red Bull. Buy a dog and drag its miserable brainless body behind you, or walk slow and let it drag you. Fuck it, buy two dogs. Get the leashes all tangled and giggle and let liquid leak out of your mouth. Ride your bike to the beach and take a picture of yourself standing on the beach, with your bike in the background. Don't forget your fuckin sunglasses. Smile.
Tweet
You have selected "Murder my balls". If this is correct, press ONE. (beep)
If you'd like to have your balls murdered while you sleep, press ONE. If your balls have already been murdered, and you'd like to arrange to have it look like they committed suicide, Log On to our Internet Web Site at www.balls.org/murder and answer the questions provided. If you'd like it to look like one of your balls murdered the other one and then took its own life, Log On to our Internet Web Site at www.balls.org/murder_suicide and answer the questions provided.
------------------------
If you have a child, and I'm not saying that you should have a child, because you obviously shouldn't, but if you do, perhaps due to prophylactic malfunction or other mishap (sperm gun misfire while cleaning it and it's pointed at your vagina or your S.O.'s vagina), you should immediately teach it to play the guitar. This will provide it with a solid foundation for a life of not only financial stability, but artistic and aesthetic fulfillment, not to mention a skill that will set it apart from just about everyone else in the world. It definitely won't grow up in a sea of identical individuals that believe they are also unique and gifted, and certainly won't waste like 7 years learning to play the guitar while everyone else does, I don't know, whatever everyone else does that sets them up with a reasonable marketable skill for the rest of their lives. You should also teach them to ride a skateboard.
-----------------------
Welcome to Satan's Dentist Office waiting room. You have been provided with an 8-ounce can of Coca-Cola, for which you will be billed $3 USD.
----------------------
I'm not going to sit here and pretend that I know what I'm talking about. Even if I did, probably no one would have read through that godawful block of text to get this far anyway. I'm working on a total overhaul of this site. It will consist, in the future, of photos to reblog, lists of things, and simulated humor.
It's nice out today, but I don't really like it when it's nice out, so for me it's not really that nice (to me). But it's, let's say, objectively nice. Great weather to pull up a stretch of barren earth and cook your face until it's a different color than it was when you first lay down (unless you have a face that remains unmodified by continued exposure to sunlight). Yep, just a nice day to put on some short shorts and let your ten-inch dick flop out of them, and walk around with your tongue hanging out of your mouth, and you know, get an iced coffee. Just fuckin juice up your brain with weak meta-amphetaminic chemicals and slop around with your fat ass plopping along behind you. Maybe grab a Monster or a Red Bull. Buy a dog and drag its miserable brainless body behind you, or walk slow and let it drag you. Fuck it, buy two dogs. Get the leashes all tangled and giggle and let liquid leak out of your mouth. Ride your bike to the beach and take a picture of yourself standing on the beach, with your bike in the background. Don't forget your fuckin sunglasses. Smile.
Tweet
Monday, March 12, 2012
New Assignment
So I'm going to write an entry on this blog every day. Just writing that sentence made my wrists sort of lock up, but it's what I'm going to do, because 1) I have no reason not to, and 2) I'm a great writer. When people ask you why you read this blog, you'll be hard pressed to be hard pressed to have an answer, and that answer is: Great Writing. So not only will you be able to participate in reading this Great Blog with Great Writing on it, you'll be able to subtly put those people in their respective places who are poking their noses into your reading habits. Great Writing, Steve, that's why I read APKWIAB. Great Writing - maybe you've heard of it? Doesn't matter if he has or not, by God he'll pretend he has the faintest idea about what Great Writing is, if it means he won't be made to look inferior in front of his closest friends.
Humiliating others, that's another thing this blog is about. It isn't so much about funny cat pictures or videos (unless any potential advertisers advise me at any point that that is what this blog should be about), it isn't about spreading a message or spearheading a movement, or even transmitting knowledge of any kind, in any sense. It's just a way, the New Way, to make others feel bad about themselves for not being involved in the latest thing; which, quite obviously, is this blog. It's the Latest Thing. And now is your chance to get in on the ground floor of this outlying decrepit ramshackle hut on the fringe of the living internet, this blog. Although we just had the inspectors through and as it turns out, the ground floor is the only floor actually safe enough to allow anyone to get in on, structurally speaking.
Today's blog entry (at this point I should advise you that blog entries on this blog may consist largely of self-serving rhetoric for at least the first two paragraphs, and possibly for a parenthetical aside in the first sentence of the third one) is about soda. Boy, do I love soda. Nothing with HFCS (that's High Fructose Corn Syrup, I'll save your fingers the google), but these new sodas, with the Real Sugar in them. Great Writing Fueled by Real Sugar. That's the new motto around here. There's another thing that anyone interested in reading APKWIAB should get right on board with: new mottoes. I plan on instating a new motto in at least every entry, if not bi- or semi-entrially. Wait, I forget which one of those means what. I'm not wasting my time with accuracy, though, or googling anything or using my memory to know things. New mottoes, though - those are something I intend to fuck with and waste my time with. Soda - it's like sugar water, but tastes better and has bubbles! There you go, ad industry, that one's free.
Tweet
Humiliating others, that's another thing this blog is about. It isn't so much about funny cat pictures or videos (unless any potential advertisers advise me at any point that that is what this blog should be about), it isn't about spreading a message or spearheading a movement, or even transmitting knowledge of any kind, in any sense. It's just a way, the New Way, to make others feel bad about themselves for not being involved in the latest thing; which, quite obviously, is this blog. It's the Latest Thing. And now is your chance to get in on the ground floor of this outlying decrepit ramshackle hut on the fringe of the living internet, this blog. Although we just had the inspectors through and as it turns out, the ground floor is the only floor actually safe enough to allow anyone to get in on, structurally speaking.
Today's blog entry (at this point I should advise you that blog entries on this blog may consist largely of self-serving rhetoric for at least the first two paragraphs, and possibly for a parenthetical aside in the first sentence of the third one) is about soda. Boy, do I love soda. Nothing with HFCS (that's High Fructose Corn Syrup, I'll save your fingers the google), but these new sodas, with the Real Sugar in them. Great Writing Fueled by Real Sugar. That's the new motto around here. There's another thing that anyone interested in reading APKWIAB should get right on board with: new mottoes. I plan on instating a new motto in at least every entry, if not bi- or semi-entrially. Wait, I forget which one of those means what. I'm not wasting my time with accuracy, though, or googling anything or using my memory to know things. New mottoes, though - those are something I intend to fuck with and waste my time with. Soda - it's like sugar water, but tastes better and has bubbles! There you go, ad industry, that one's free.
Tweet
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)