Public (Losing) Interest

Can I please sit down and watch the evening “news” without being barraged by stupid public interest stories? Please? Pretty please with a disfigured, disease-infested, charity-giving, hero puppy on top?

All I want to do is sit down and watch today’s batch of reports on horrific accidents, child murders, and new ways I’m getting fucked. And I’d like to do that without the interruption of some tearjerker story about people I’ll never meet with diseases I’ve never heard of. So your baby was born without a head, your sister has a 300-pound tumor growing out of her 400-pound tumor, and your war-veteran brother-in-law has a piece of shrapnel in his left testicle that looks oddly like Ned Beatty. I don’t give a turd! I don’t mean to sound cruel or heartless, but I just don’t care. And why should I? I don’t know these people. Hell, I barely can muster up enough heart to care when this kinda shit happens to people I know, let alone total strangers. Sure, it’s a bummer that you lost your left nipple in a blender accident, but it doesn’t affect me one bit!

And isn’t this shit all a little exploitive? Did you ever think that this little girl born with her organs outside her body probably doesn’t want to have her suffering broadcasted on network-fuck-television? Leave these people the hell alone! They’re dealing with enough shit as is without having to sit down with some over-zealous twit in a discount rack suit and a sprayed on hair piece and answer a bunch of stupid questions so that Channel 4 can win the ratings war.

It is for ratings too. If you really think Guy Smiley over here really gives a crudball about poor, lil’ cancer-ridden Timmy, than you’re more fucked than I thought. They call it public interest for a reason. Because that’s what they are trying to do, gain your interest. Which is pointless, because it’s not like the nightly news is ever going to be cancelled due to low ratings. Just because we aren’t watching “The Misery Minute” every night doesn’t mean that next week we’ll see the weather man from Channel 13 sitting on the side of the road with a sign that reads “Will Give Forecasts For Food!”. You’re not the latest CSI, you’re the news! Ratings are not what is important here! Pushing a Liberal agenda, now THAT is what’s important!

And while I’m on the topic of pointless things on the news, can we please stop with the “Investigative Insider Report” shit? So the manager at the local soup kitchen takes a dump in the gumbo, this used furniture salesman sells couches stuffed with aborted fetus’, and the local police like giving cavity searches during speeding ticket stops. I still don’t give a turd! And I don’t want to know! Ignorance is bliss, fuckers. If one restaurant is caught serving steak made of dead kittens, who knows what my favorite restaurant is doing and hasn’t gotten caught yet! Now you have us living in fear that our baby crib may light on fire for no apparent reason, or that our car may flip into a ditch if it doesn’t like our play list on our iPod. What the hell do you gain from that? Are you that desperate to control us?

Anyway, I have to go. The news is airing a special report on an 85 year old women with thirty seven eyeballs. Better Tivo this shit!

Through Thick And Thin

My name is Bob Reinhard. And I am a scrawny fuck.

I believe the medical term for it is “Morbidly Stick-like”. I actually resemble a real life stick figure. I have no issues with it, to be totally honest, but apparently other people are bothered by it. Bothered enough to make wonderful comments such as “Whoa, are you anorexic?!?” That’s actually happened. How fucked is that?! You can’t do that with any other physical problem. You can’t walk up to someone with a big forehead and go “Holy fuck, what, do you have Downs or something?!” You can’t do that! Well, you could, but I wouldn’t recommend it.

The problem stems from the fact that it’s perfectly alright to make fun of me for me being skinny. Which is sorta fucked. I mean, it’s NOT considered ok to make fun of fat people, so why is it peachy-keen for people to take shots at me being underweight? You’re still making fun of my weight, and that should be considered offensive.

I think it’s time us scrawny lil’ shits stood up for ourselves! That’s right my fellow twigs, it is time for us to rise as one and fight against scrawny opression! Stick figures have feelings too!

If we’re going to charge fat people twice for plane tickets, it should only be far that we should be charged for half. If we’re going to have weight-loss programs and gyms, we also should have fat-implant places, to add a little bulk to our bones.

It’s society and it’s view of weight that is the problem in the beginning. It’s not ok for a woman to be fat. She has to be a total stick. BUT if a man is a total stick, he is UNDER weight. Because all men are supposed to be buff and muscular. Fuck that. I am no less a man because of the fact I can play my rib cage like a Xylophone.

For some reason, it is pushed into us that women seek, what, a big strong man with washboard abs and a broad chest. I have broad abs and a washboard chest, does that work? I don’t view myself as any less attractive because I’m skinny, I just see myself as occupying less space. So fuck you for trying to make me feel bad about it.

Sure, a gust of wind could easily take me, but if you need to get into small spaces, you’d be fucked without me.

It’s been brought to my attention on several occasions that we’re in the middle of an “Obesity Epidemic”. Holy fuck! Epidemic? Isn’t that a little harsh of a term for “Too Many Cookies”? I’m actually starting to feel like I’m being left out of something. Like I’m not in on the “big” joke. Let fat people be, they aren’t doing shit to you. Don’t dog them for eating too much food, because your greedy ass will probably eat half the plate of your dinner and throw the rest away. At least they finish their meals. They aren’t the ones adding to global hunger, YOU are you wasteful pricks.

On a totally unrelated note, why is it that in a country full of fat people, it’s always the little 85 pound Asian guy that wins the eating contests? Great, we’re fat asses that suck at being fat asses.

I guess my point in all this is, it’s not alright to make fun of ANYONE for their weight, be it fat or thin. I know it’s not quite as much malice towards skinny people as fat people, but it’s still rude and annoying. I don’t get offended, I just get annoyed that it’s ok to make fun of me for my weight. If you’re fat, know that I’m not making fun of you here, I’m defending you. I don’t think you OR me should be made fun of for our weight. Cheers to you for being big, when winter time comes around, I get jelious!

Summary statement: Normal sized people suck. Fat people, skinny people, we’re the real humanity. Fuck those normal sized bastards, fuck them right in their healthy sized asses.

Holy War

On this planet, a great war is raging. Two sides, both fearless in battle, tussle for the right to control. An epic struggle between two forces, one of which even the greatest poets couldn’t put words to.

The clash of ages is upon us, my friends. There are many conflicts in this world, but they all pale in comparison to this, the most brutal of conflicts. In the end, these two sides shall collide, sparks shall fly, but there can be only one.

I’m of course talking about Facebook Vs. Myspace.

Myspace was a juggernaut. We all remember it’s take over. Like a hostile army just appearing on the horizon, sweeping in and pillaging and plundering the homes of what we call society. It became an evil entity, gaining ground fast and only crushing us under it’s weight.

Then came Facebook. It started out simple enough. A less-bullshit Myspace for the people who were sick of the messages from Whore-Bots that seemed to serve zero purpose. Well, except to help boost the ego of all the super-dorks on Myspace. “Wow, Candy the big-breasted super model wants to be my friend on Myspace, I’m so accepting her. Oh… it’s a link to porn. I know all about porn… I didn’t need myspace to tell me about porn… I’ve already got the pornicopia on my computer…”

Facebook gained ground quickly, adding to it a lot of cool innovations. Mobile uploads. A chat window. Picture-tagging. “Like” option. Status updates. Applications.

Then, suddenly, Myspace started losing ground. Facebook was taking over. People switched over, some didn’t even keep the Myspace account. And Facebook gained over the people who hated Myspace.

What ever should Myspace do.

Rip off everything Facebook came up with, that’s what it should do.

Myspace stole the mobile uploads. They just recently stole the chat window (it even LOOKS the same, and is in the exact same spot!), they stole the picture tagging. They stole the status updates. They stole the applications. They don’t have a like option, but give it time…

Myspace, in a desperate attempt to get back it’s following, is stealing everything Facebook is coming up with. It’s sad.

I have a theory (oh shit, here we go again…). I think that both sites are actually made by the same people. I know, I know, we’ve been introduced to their creators, they’ve been interviewed on television news, they’ve had their pictures posted on every nerd forum on the interweb. But I think there is another force at hand here.

I shall call “it”:

Mr. X

Mr. X owns it all. YouTube. Google. Myspace. Facebook. Livejournal. Twitter. Wikipedia. Your mom.

You name it, Mr. X owns it. Mr. X lies in a bed of your shitty emo poems. He lines the halls of his mansions with your douche-baggety pictures of you pulling your shirt up and showing your abs. He streams videos of skateboarding dogs and stupid fuckweeds doing stupid fuckweedish things straight onto his 102” television. Mr. X actually has pet lolcats running around in his living room. He is Mr. X. And he owns your very soul, my friends.

How do we stop Mr. X from taking over the world? Simple. We let him. And why not? Mr. X is good. Mr. X provides all your wired needs.

It took Mr. X 6 days to create the internet, and on the seventh day, Mr. X sat around and played Bejeweled.

So why, you ask, would Mr. X have two of his E-Prophets battle each other?

We do not ask these questions of Mr. X. Mr. X’s plans are too big for us pathetic lowlifes to understand. We shall not question his l33t wisdom. Our avatars are all created in his image, my friends, and because of that, we are all flawed yet perfect.

So, I ask of you now, instead of poo-pooing on this war between our two ol’ “networking-whatever-the-fuck-that-means” sites, we embrace it. We love it. We spend our days living in service to Mr. X and his undying pwnage of all the noobs. We take advantage of the obnoxious wastes of time that pop up. And maybe, just maybe, when we’re finally IP banned from this world, and sent straight to the Trash Bin on the big Desktop in the sky, we can join with Mr. X as one, and be forever able to surf the UWW – The Universe Wide Web.

Amen.

Darwin Had A Point

I need to stop listening to people.

I don’t mean when they’re talking to me directly, I mean when they are talking AROUND me. I find that people generally have dumb-ass conversations. I don’t mean that they, themselves are necessarily dumb asses (though this tends to be the case more often than not), but the things the talk about are near-brain damaging stupid. I can actually feel parts of my brain leaning over and whispering to other parts “Dude, are you getting this? I think it’s about time we check out, and get outta this joint!”.

Today’s conversation was between two co-workers about the good ol’ days. When two of our employees, one of which was in this conversation, the other of which is gone from the department, used to…

…wait for it…

…I want to pause for effect…

…fart on each other.

So, this is it, huh folks?

Thousands upon Thousands of years of evolution, and this is where we are? One step down from actually shitting in our hands and throwing it at each other? We’re THAT close to acting like monkeys. And you want to tell me there isn’t a genetic connection?

The thing is, the pride in these stories, scared me a little bit. Now, most people know, I don’t get scared easily. But when a grown man talks about how one time he “ripped a big one while we were in the elevator, and it brought tears to his eyes”… I have a tendency to quiver a little bit.

I guess it’s because of the term I just used in that sentence. Grown men. These are ADULTS, not even YOUNG adults. Full-fledged grown up adults. And they’re taking pleasure in an activity that’s barely even amusing when you’re a teenager. This is beyond the lighting-farts-on-fire mindset. This is actually a mild form of bio-terrorism. And they are enjoying it ever-so-much.

And they were men, in case you were wondering. As if you couldn’t have figured that out. Women are not this stupid, which leads me to a possible theory forming.

Women are farther along in evolution than men are.

That’s a thought to choke down. Maybe men are closer to apes, because they haven’t evolved as far as women have. Perhaps something is actually, from an evolutionary stand point, different in our minds. Perhaps the primitive, male-dominance of this culture can actually be given up to an evolutionary thing. Men haven’t evolved enough as a species to understand the way things work, so they have to revert back to an animalistic way and tackle it like that. It would explain a lot.

But, the thing that makes it a strange theory, if men are the LESS evolved, then they should be the WEAKER of the two sexes. They should NOT be the ones in control. And they are. Somehow, the less-fit creature has taken over. How does this happen? We’re one step away from picking Cheetos out of each others hair and eating them, and yet… we still feel superior to the clearly more mentally evolved women?

Survival of the fittest is failing right now. Because if it was a functioning theory, men would be dying off faster than women.

There isn’t too much of a point here, just a wild theory about mental evolution. I guess, if I had to make a point, I’d say this:

Men. If you’re reading. Stop acting like primitive creatures, and start the process of evolution. Start acting like adults, stop acting like idiots, and let’s try to make the human race work better by stopping pathetic immature shit like this.

I Finally Found It…

That’s right folks.

After years of painstaking research. Hours spent digging, observing, and thinking.

Countless people, places, things… all of it, coming down on me for what feels like an eternity.

After all of that, I have finally found it.

The most douchiest douchey douche-thing in all the known douchiverse.

On my way home from work, it caught me by surprise. A glint of douche-ocity in the corner of my eye. At first, I didn’t even think to concentrate on it, to even glance at it directly. It was just a bumper sticker. They aren’t worth reading. They’re there for attention seekers, and in order to kill an attention seeker, you must not pay attention to them. Or hit them with a large cumbersome object about fifty times, but I don’t mean PHYSICALLY kill them… I mean to kill their attention seeking ways.

But, since I was bored, I figured I’d give it a shot. Figured I’d see another obnoxious Obama bumper sticker, or the lil’ guy peein’ on something. Or perhaps a dumb ass bumper sticker that is mildly amusing… if it was 1985 when the joke was originally written.

But instead, I see a very simple bumper sticker. Not even well made. Just a black rectangle with plain white letters on it. I figured I’d be some small joke, something that wouldn’t do much of anything to my mental well being.

I was painfully mistaken.

For what my eyeball holes processed next, were words that shook my very soul. Rocked my foundation and left me nothing but a puddle of anger-piddle on the seat. Five words. That’s all it took to make my very being shatter like it was sprayed with liquid nitrogen and then smacked with a steel pipe.

Five words.

“Vegetarian: Because I Know Better”.

…

…

You…

Pretentious…

FUCKWEED!!!!!!!

BECAUSE I KNOW BETTER?!?!?!

Now, it’s not that I’m knocking vegetarians. I actually find it an admirable cause, one I would probably partake in if Chicken sandwiches weren’t so friggin’ scrumptious. But it’s the sheer douche-baggery involved in the four words AFTER vegetarian that played with my mind. How full of yourself do you actually have to be to see this bumper sticker in a store, and think “Yes, I am a vegetarian because I know better. I know more than those meat-eating ignoramuses. I shall purchase this, and broadcast my clearly higher intellect towards food choice to those out there without the knowledge to comprehend my vast awesome-ness”.

You see, I was always under the assumption that, as physics dictates, if you over-inflate something too much, it has a tendency to explode, and send crap flying every which way. This, I figured, also applied to someone’s ego. I, and regrettably so, was taken a fool.

I understand, you have an admirable cause and wish to try and enlighten people on your ways, and your beliefs. That is just peachy-keen, fine and dandy to me, friend… but in the process, becoming that full of yourself, sorta makes your point rather moot to those around you. Because as soon as they hear, or in this case read, the “Holier Than Thou” part of the message, their first impression of what you have to say changes. Now, instead of stopping to listen and understand your point, their mind has wandered to “Gee, I wonder which of the nearest objects are easiest to throw at this shitbag’s head…”

Arrogance as a means to get a point across? Yeah, you week-old stale turd muffin, that ALWAYS works. How the crackers do you even get away with BUYING that bumper sticker without someone slapping you right in your fuckity fuck face?

Listen, vegetarians have good points. But some of them are such pretentious muck-for-brains, that it’s hard for the concept as a whole to be taken seriously. It’s the same as the guy who walks up to the smoker and lands a good ol’ fake cough to tell you that they don’t like your smoking.

Is keeping smoke away from people who don’t want to inhale it good? Sure, why not. Is being a fucking dick about it going to make them want to stop blowing smoke in your face? No. In fact, it has the exact opposite effect. When someone is a total douche about telling you to stop doing something, it is our reaction as human beings, to do that thing as many more times as we can possibly squeeze into the time we have left with said douche-merchant.

I really wanted to stop this person, get out of the car, and just open a big, fat double cheeseburger with bacon and a whole fucking honey-baked ham on it and scarf it down like it was about to run away. Then just look at them with meat-juices pouring down my face, and smile. I’d, of course, need an umbrella, because when that kind of sharp tack hit’s something that is that inflated, there is bound to be goo flying everywhere. And I don’t want to be unprotected when their head explodes.

Ultimately, it boils down to this: If you want to be taken seriously, don’t act like a fucker about it. If you have to shove your idles onto the back of your car to bother the person you’re in front of at the red light, at least don’t make the bumper sticker something that will possibly give them an “I Hate You” Brain hemorrhage. Be subtle, be smart about it. PROVE you know better by actually demonstrating your knowledge. Just say something like:

“I’m A Vegetarian Because I Choose Not To Support The Slaughter Of Animals. I Also Do It For Health Reasons.”

It’s not as catchy, but fuck if it doesn’t make you sound like a far less annoying piece of fecal matter.

In The Interest Of Fairness

Here’s the thing: If I’m not allowed to talk about sex or politics in public…

You aren’t allowed to talk about your children.

Stories about children are seriously the single most annoying thing any human being can talk about on this planet.

This double standard needs to be addressed. Why can’t I talk about sex, yet they can talk about children. To be fair, children are just the last part of sex. The very last part. The end of a sex life at all. To be totally honest, I would rather hear the most vile, disgusting “In-Mexico-Last-Year-I-Fisted-A-Donkey” sex story, before hearing a “Lil’ Billy’s Adventures In Mediocrity” tale.

This is really just the next piece of the “why do people even have kids” puzzle. They love to tell stories. Because this society is all about attention. We want attention, and since most of these people are vastly uninteresting alone, they need to get something in their life to spice things up. A child is like a mildly amusing anecdote factory. It produces a bunch of mundane stories that are not in the least unique or clever.

Every baby story is the same. They all go exactly like this:

“Oh man! You should have seen what lil’ Megan did last night! OOOOH it was so cute!!! OHHHH you know, she was petting our cat, heehee, and you know how she’s learning to talk right, well yeah, so she was petting him, and John asked her ‘Hey Megan, what’s that you’re playing with?’ and Megan said… well, she wanted to say Kitty… but she can’t pronounce her K’s very well, so she said… hahaha… oh man, she said “Titty!” AHHH HAAA HAAA isn’t that wonderful?!?”

NO IT FUCKING IS NOT! Every kid in the shit-damn UNIVERSE has called a “Kitty” a “Titty” at one point or another. It’s not even remotely funny anymore! And I’m pretty immature.

Also, don’t show me pictures of your kids. “Oh isn’t he cute?!?” No, probably not. In fact, from what I’ve been able to gather: Most kids are really damn gross looking. There are very few attractive children. They have teeth missing, hair is awkward and dirty, they have big, giant gross fat baby faces that they haven’t grown out of, epic sized heads, and dirty booger covered faces. That isn’t cute at all, that’s one bottle of Jack away from being a Wino downtown. Kids are annoying, and unattractive. It’s not their fault, it’s just the way development is. They’re growing and learning (the wrong shit, mind you, but they’re learning), and that’s an awkward phase.

Of course, everyone has to go with the obvious response to being shown a picture of a child: “Oh! He looks just like his daddy!”

Tough break, Kid. Your dad’s a fuckin’ goober.

There is something slightly less annoying, but still quite bothersome. It’s the complete opposite of the cute story thing. The complaint department.

“Oh it’s so tough havin’ a kid!”

You know what would have made it a shit load easier? Keepin’ JIZZ OUT OF YOU! If it’s so damn hard, don’t DO IT. Why would you purposely put yourself through something that you will later just bitch and complain about.

Most of these negative stories are about the child’s education. “Well, Joey is struggling in school right now…” Well, that probably has a lot to do with the fact that the kid is half YOU! Just from this five minute conversation I’ve overheard, I can already tell you’re not quite the brightest pearl in the clam.

People have children for many reasons. Most, if not ALL, of these reasons are selfish or stupid. This whole concept right here covers that self-interest reason. These stories of your children are quite similar to stories about your wild, crazy dreams – Completely irrelevant and uninteresting. Not to mention, we’ve heard them all before.

So parents, do me a big favor: Spare me the stories. If your kid cured cancer while playing with Play-Doh one day, fine, maybe I’ll listen to that one. But when he puts the bowl of spaghetti over his head and makes a big mess: Keep that shit to yourself. That story is over-played.

Change Of Pace

As I was getting my over-priced, not-really-that-good corporate coffee today, I came to a realization.

The tip cup is evil.

Now, I’m not one of those people to bitch that they ask for tips, when they’re just doing their job. My issue comes from the fact that the tip jar, in essence, is worthless. I drop my change from my coffee purchase into it. 5 dollars paid for a cup of coffee that is 4.60. For those of you that suck at math, that’s 40 cents into the jar. A massive tip, no doubt.

As if me dropping the quarter-nickel-dime combo into the jar is a huge help.

*clink clink clink*

“THANK YOU! I can now finally afford to pay my tuition! My Liberal Arts degree will no longer be impossible to achieve. It’ll still be useless, but I can at least pay for it!”

Let’s assume in an 8 hour shift, we get… 20 customers an hour. That’s 160 customers in a shift, and that’s being VERY gracious. Now, let’s assume they all put their 40 cents in the cup (I know people tip more, but some don’t tip at all, so we’ll average it out to my 40 cents). That comes to 6400 cents. 64 bucks. Now, split that between two people, since it’s supposed to be split evenly between the people working (some days its more than two, but we’ll go with the traditional two people for this.). That’s 32 dollars for 8 hours of work.

Does 32 dollars a day really make up for the shitty paycheck you get every week? And having to put up with peoples pretentious 42-word orders. “yes I’d like an iced, double-whipped cream, non-fat blah blah blah I’m a tool blah blah latte”? The answer is – It does not.

The tip jar is simply there to make you, the customer, pity the poor sap behind the counter. And make you feel cheap for not shoving a fifty in there. Corporate tip jars. Another part of the facade put on by the “economic crisis”. We’re all going to die because YOU are a cheap tipper at Starbucks.

The End? Could Be Fun!

Alright, so the worlds ending in 2012, right?

Again?

How many times has the world ended in my lifetime now… five… six?

Seriously, it seems every other year some nutcase in a cloak is yelling at the sky about the world ending. Psychics. Priests. Voodoo ladies. Hobos with mental disorders. They all keep screaming about the end of the world.

I’m getting tired of this “worlds gonna end” crap. Remember Y2K? Boy, that was horrifying. How many times do we have to prove these people WRONG before they stop yelling about Dooms Day? All the backpeddling and excuses. All the “well, we read it wrong” ‘s and everything else… it’s getting old.

Besides, we always seem to base it on dates using the Gregorian Calender. A system of measurement that is eh… our made up system. Why do we think it’d end based on OUR system? Maybe it’s really only 1998 in the grand scheme, and the world really IS going to end in 2000… maybe we just are a little bit off…

Actually, I wish the world WOULD end. If you’re gonna go out… might as well go out with a bang! Why not be apart of a truely one of a kind event! Be a part of history… or the end of it! I want to witness the world end. I want to see balls of fire crashing from the sky and holes opening up to hell in the streets. I want to see horror and destruction. I want to see most of these fuck-wads suffer a little bit for the shit they’ve done on this planet. I think it’s TIME the world ended. We need to start over. Wipe the slate clean.

It may be a bit sadistic, but I really hope it does end in 2012. Just so I can see all of the people living with regrets find out the end is really not to fear. It isn’t. The end is important. Without an end, the time we’re here means nothing.

My point in all this is… well… live life like every day is the last day. Because, who knows, it could very well BE the last day.

Oh, and SHUT UP ABOUT IT!