Saturday, March 04, 2006

I Have Something Very Important to Say So I am Typing it Now Because it is So Important

What I am typing now is something that is so important, it is kind of obscene how important it is. Not just to me, but to everyone who reads it. Nay, it is important to THE WORLD, regardless of whom is actually physically exposed to it, what it is that I am typing now.

If I did not type this (this thing I am typing now) it would be something that was never typed and presented to the world and that would be a travesty. That would be a piece of very important history left unwritten; a first for humankind that never presented itself. A crime, essentially! A crime!

What I am writing here is important and interesting and unique. I am discussing something that is entirely unique to me and therefore eye-opening to everyone else. "Gosh, I never thought of it that way!" you will DEFINITELY be saying once you are through reading this. You will exclaim, "It was so important I read that! It has enriched my life for I had never experienced, nor seen, nor heard about anything alike to it in the past! It was an entirely new piece of knowledge for me, not unlike unlocking the door to a whole new dimension!"

This is inarguably how you will feel. You will be changed, whether you like it or not, by what I have written here. You will be different after reading this, of this I am certain for I am the only one to write it as such. This writing shall, as they say, "rock your world" in a rather violent fashion.

For there is no one like me.

Who has written like me.

And will ever write like me.


This is so interesting...

So important...

So unique...

Gosh, am I keen!!!

Friday, March 03, 2006

Internet Lament - A Tell-All Rap Blog

The moment the Internet becomes all but obscure to me is the moment I'll know I've finally reached full maturity.

The Internet has taken from me my whole life! Otherwise, by now I'd have a job and a wife!

This much I am convinced: the Internet sucks! From your soul, from your heart, from your body, from your bucks!

'Bout time I started taking myself in a new direction, cuz nasty online porn is all that gives me an erection!

Instead of goin' out, partyin', and havin' a blast, sat inside all damn weekend on internet chats!

Everyone on the web's got a goddamned opinion, get into worthless arguments and nobody wins 'em!

When I die on my tombstone you'll read the epitaph, "http://helovedtolaugh

.COM"! My experiences can all fit on one CD-ROM, poorly burned so it skips while you listen to the songs!

I know I shouldn't be here! I don't wanna be bloggin'! I should be makin' money, lvin', lovin', talkin', and joggin'!

I got awful-ass posture and a crick in my neck! I'm an internet casualty, not a man, but a wreck!

As though I needed one more reason for women to hate me, my knowledge of online trends means that no one will date me!

I have a lot of trouble goin' face to face with girls, most of the one's I talk to live halfway round the world!

And I'm really fuckin' frightened 'bout the decline of language, "u" is "you" "r" is "are" and "asl" it's insane, bitch!

It's really shitty when you find your at the head of a fad, and then the people you hate jump on the idea you had!

Surrounded on all virtual sides by idiots tiping lik tihs, come up close to the screen, my cyber-butt you can kiss!

Wanna escape back to the real world and never, never, read another post, blog, or myspace profile ever!

But, it's too late, we're all lost, I guess this is it.

The Internet's taken over, like fuckin' Skynet and shit.

Wednesday, March 01, 2006

A Short Story that You Can Pretend to Derive Meaning from If You Feel Like It

A man was found dead on the front stoop of his house. His body was sprawled across the steps, an empty bag clutched to his chest as though it had some special significance to him. The contents of it (groceries) were vomited out across the landing. It rather looked as though the guy had simply tripped on his way up the stairs and then never gotten up. He had lived next door to me.

"God wanted that man dead," my mother proclaimed from the recesses of her couch.

"Are we playing the part of God today then, mother?" I asked, turning from the window to face her. She was not, of course, facing me back.

"A man up n' dies like that 'e likely deserves it," she said, her eyes affixed to the television screen.

"Like what? He died of natural causes." I had put my hand out in an effort to demonstrate my incredulity at her previous statement, realizing at the same time that any sort of emoting was wasted on the back of a head.

"Natural causes! Pthahnk!" This sound was the combination of some kind of snort coupled with a half-assed attempt at a rasberry. A piece of a cheese curl went flying out of her mouth along with this exclamation. "Couldn't 've been more th'n fifty." She raised her hand up to her mouth to shovel in another batch of junk food.

"All right, it wasn't old age. All the same, it was a heart attack or something. There wasn't any lightning involved or anything." I turned back to the window, thinking I should probably be reading a book.

"Well, what caused the heart attack then?" I turned back to her.

"I dunno, mom. Maybe he sat around all day eating Cheetos." This elicited a slight rocking motion from her Liberty Bell-like figure. This gave me the slightest hint of a shock. The times at which she made any sort of movement whatsoever were so few and far between, I was recently under the impression that she had officially merged with the furniture. I would call it a symbiotic relationship but I don't think couch actually needed her.

"Heard 'e beat 'is wife," she said.

"Who'd you hear that from, mom?"



"Down the street."

"Yeah, Frannie from down the street. I know her. Just finished a lesson on her in history."

"All I'm sayin' is," she expelled a significant amount of air as though what was coming next was going to be horrendously profound, "He din't wanna know nobody 'round here. My neighbors know me. He din't even care nobody knew him. We here on this earth ta in-ter-act with people."

"Frannie seems to think he interacted with his wife pretty good."

"God wanted that man dead," she said, nodding her head up and down as though her argument had been concluded concretely, "'n I can't says that I blame 'im."

I blinked twice. Suddenly, there was a crash of thunder, drawing my head back around to the window. Without hesitation, it began to pour heavily.

"Aw, hell, ma," I said, "God's up and started a gang war."

Tuesday, February 28, 2006

Life Explained in Six Bite-Sized Chunks


Entertained by: Shiny things, flashing things, moving things, eating.

Worth measured by: How often mom and dad (or equivalent guardian) are around.


Entertained by: Imagination, stuff made out of plastic.

Worth measured by: How much more plastic you have than other kids.


Entertained by: Drugs, alcohol, negativity, sex (or the prospect of it at least), acts of ultimately fruitless rebellion.

Worth measured by: How well-versed you are in the aforementioned forms of entertainment.


Entertained by: Drugs, alcohol, sex, apathy and/or partying.

Worth measured by: How drunk and high you got that one night. How many people you are acquainted with. For heterosexual males: The number of girls you've engaged in some form of sexual congress with (the more varied the types of acts, the higher you score, literally and figuratively!!!)


Entertained by: Owning stuff, alcohol, sex.

Worth measured by: How much more stuff you have than other people.


Entertained by: Shiny things, flashing things, moving things, eating.

Worth measured by: Worth?

THE END! :):):):):):):):):):)!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

Monday, February 27, 2006

Murder Most Profitable

Listen up! This is my business proposal.

The way I see it, lots of people are pissed off, at least in Americatown where we eat the burgers and they are SO BIG that they fill our arteries and clog up our brains and they BURST WITH HATE!!! I think that’s how it works. I believe there is a scientific study regarding it. I ran the study and I refuse to publish the results but let’s just put it this way: they were right.

I’ve noticed a lot of people are very mad and one of the first things they consider is to murder! To squeeze the existence out of someone! To destroy a life! To kick someone else’s bucket, thereby spilling out all of their precious sustainment juices. Ew, gross! No, “sustainment” isn’t a real word. Happy?

When someone gets mad, they often have someone to blame (surely not themselves?) and this person, they believe, deserves a mystical scythe to the butt! However, people usually cool off and realize that the person they were directing their hate at doesn’t REALLY deserve to have their life squelched. But, mark my words, they will get mad again! AND URGE TO KILL WILL RISE.

So! My business proposal?! Let them!!!

My belief is that all the murderous rage will be taken out of a person if they just get to off one lousy mofo! Here is how it works. We put out ads for people who really, really don’t want to live anymore. We would make this an extensive interview process and would be very selective because we don’t want someone who only thinks they wanna die and then rescinds this decision once they’re put in a room with some crazy, violent American with blood on the brain. As such, no high school students will be considered.

A similar process is gone through with the people who want to snuff someone out as well. If you seem angry enough, we’ll let you kill someone! Of course you have to pay money, quite a bit of it in fact. Heck, I guess the people dying could pay money too. I mean, why not? Like they’re gonna need it, right? But I guess for them we’ll just say a donation is “heavily appreciated.” At any rate, we’ll be fulfilling the needs of two different groups: the murderous and those who can’t find Kevorkian’s new address in the book.

We’ll fit all kinds of characteristics together including types (e.g.; someone who wants a boss-type figure to die would get the depressed, alcoholic boss to waste) and methods of death so if a guy wants to die by boob suffocation (a very popular selection!), we’ll match him up with the disgruntled Hooters employee. It’ll basically be like a matchmaking service except we’re pairing people up to kill each other.

No, wait. It’s the same.


My hope is that a person only has one murder in ‘em and that should appease them pretty good for the rest of their lives. Alternate scenario: they’ll feel all guilty about it and realize they went too far and reform their lives from then on. Or, it could go another way and, unable to live with the guilt, they’ll make the crossover from murderer to murderee! This would be the best situation as far as profits are concerned.

If there are people who desire a bit of the old repeat murder and get addicted to it like some kind of drug dependency situation, we’ll institute a policy of increasing the cost substantially with every subsequent kill. I mean, come now, even mass murderers have to be thrifty at some point. How you gonna pay for them burgers?!


Sunday, February 26, 2006


I had a dream last night that struck me as pretty funny although I suppose it could be seen as a bit freaky as well. I am only documenting it here because it prominently featured an old woman so I think all of this recent discussion on my blog of old people influenced my BRAIN while I SLEPT.

So, I have a friend whose parents go on week-long vacations on a fairly frequent basis. When this happens, I often come hang out at his place and stay in his guest room. I also use the upstairs bathroom (his parents') during these periods so that I don't have to share a bathroom with him all week (because he is gross). Also, my friend plays this internet game online where he pretends he is at war and in an army and shoots people and he has a lot of online friends and he spends LOTS of time with this game and takes it verrrrry seriously. He also wears headphones that block out most other sound while he plays.

Anyway, in my dream the location kept jumping back and forth and mixing between his house, a house I used to live in in college, and the basement of my parent's house. Early in the dream, some odd discussion about "compressed marijuana" (something which I don't believe exists and if it does I have no clue as to what it might be) and how one might "uncompress" it occurred. Another friend of mine was looking it up on the "internet" and it apparently required the purchase of an expensive apparatus! Shame!

Now the important part is that while staying at my friend's house, an old, sort of chunky woman showed up and had a discussion with us. I don't think she was an old woman who I came in contact with in real life recently. I think she was invented in my head! She had pink pants and a sweater that I think was some sort of red. Now, apparently, we were expecting her arrival and to talk to her but then she walked away and we assumed she left the house.

However!! Later that same day (I guess it was that same day), I went upstairs to use the bathroom and the old woman was standing in the hallway outside. I said something to the effect of "Old Woman! What you do!?" and she responded with something nutty and confused. I think she was delusional and lost.

So I yelled to my friend that she was there and, I think because he was playing his internet game, he didn't hear me. Evidently, this issue was not important enough for me to further pursue so I forgot about the old woman.

Then this happened again! I went upstairs and she was still there and I said something and she said something else retarded.

The implication at this point was that days were passing. So, on the third day, I was in my friend's room and he was playing his internet game. He also had remenants of camouflage makeup on his face, as though he had put it on the night before but wiped most of it off.

"Why did you put on camouflage makeup?" I asked.

"Maybe it's to imply they (they meaning his internet army friends whom he's never met in real life) stayed over last night!" He replied somewhat challengingly.

"But...they didn't," I said.

"Well, not yet," he muttered as I walked out.

I went upstairs to use the bathroom and was slightly shocked (no really, it was a bit of a shock as I had evidently forgotten already) that the Old Woman was leaning up against the wall outside the bathroom. She wasn't noticeably hurt but the impression I got was that she could not move.

"Old woman!" I said.

"OLD WOMAN NEEDS AN AMBULANCE!!!" she shouted in response.

Then I woke up.

In retrospect, I think it is hilarious.

THE END!!!!!!!!!