Forcemeat – Sounds Sorta Rape-y To Me…

For those of you who are interested, someone over at Ask And Ye Shall Receive, a blog-reviewing blog, reviewed my blog (jesus, that sentence was a pain to type…)

So, go over here and check it out. It’s… not favorable.

I suppose I should write some sort of response, my thoughts on it, that sort of thing. But apparently I’m not funny. Or clever. Or really all that worth reading. So, instead, I’m going to let… um… “Forcemeat” do all the talking for me.

You can read my comment on his review, and see me take the high road. Something I’m not that inclined to do. Ultimately, there was nothing remotely helpful or constructive in the blog. Nor was it funny. If you’re gonna roast me, make it funny. That’s all I ask.

Enjoy.

(Also, I’m not going to stop just because some nobody on the internet doesn’t like it. My ego just doesn’t depend on other people’s opinions that badly. I do appreciate the time to review though.)

The Counter Culture Clown Says Go Kill Your Family!

Sometimes, it’s hard to open a blog. The intro is such a delicate area. You need something that not only grabs the attention of the reader, but also serves as a gate to the realm of what is to come. Many people find it easiest to select a quote that lends itself to what is to come. So, today, I will open this blog by quoting the lyrics to a song that is both resounding with elegance and beauty. Here we go:

“In blood his victims will crawl. Body parts all over his house. They feed the need of his cannibal mind. Bloody murders he left behind. Jeffrey Dahmer – master cannibal. Jeffrey Dahmer – master of the gruesome”

Chilling in it’s poetic genius, isn’t it? Oh, how the transfixing melodies of Soulfly open my very soul and implant seeds of true emotional openness.

In truth, that song scared my heart out of my ass. He’s singing a song about Jeffrey Dahmer. You know, a song. A SONG. As in: La la la. As in: do ra me fa so la te DAHMER! Granted, I couldn’t make out most of the lyrics because they were screamed in such a way that I thought the radio was picking up static. It wasn’t. It was his voice. To be honest, he did capture the tone of the song… so kudos to him.

While at work, we tend to listen to a local listener-run radio station. The sheer variety of things played on each of the specialty programs throughout each night (this was at about 3 in the morning, mind you) are borderline limitless. From old school funk to crazy techno to this: the true metal show. You think you’ve listened to metal? Your metal is pansy baby bullshit compared to this metal. This metal rapes your metal in the butt. These metal bands urinate on your very SOUL with their metalocity!

As my blood pressure finally found it’s way back to normal from my fright, I began to analyze what I heard. Was he really singing about Jeffrey Dahmer? Naw, he couldn’t be. I mean, is that really subject matter for a song? I picture the creative force behind this song sitting down behind his desk, pen to paper. The scraps of previous failed songs lie strewn everywhere. Songs such as “An Ode To Ted Bundy” or “Charles Manson’s Love Ballad Number 6″. A kitten in the corner batting around a ball of paper. A pretty daffodil sits on the window sill. The BBC news coming out of the tv behind him. And here he is hit, finally, by a hammer called inspiration. What will soon be his magnum opus, his life’s masterpiece, begins to pour out of the end of his pencil. The words jump from the tip as he sips his green tea with just a hint of honey, humming a tune to the words as they come. It will be his time to shine!

Jeffrey Fucking Dahmer? I understand wanting to be a hardcore bad-ass metal band, but… JEFFREY FUCKING DAHMER?! How can you possibly write a more fucked up song?

Don’t EVER ask questions like that while listening to a death metal radio show, because not twelve seconds after the thought passed through my head, did I hear through the jumble of teeth-shattering bass and brain melting guitars, a wonderful lyric about SCHOOL SHOOTINGS!

Oh yes, student bodies line the halls indeed! Why the hell NOT write a song about school shootings? And these bands wonder why, when shit goes down, they’re blamed for it.

“Yes, the prosecution would like to present this album from the band Nun Molesters, titled ‘Why Don’t You Go Downstairs And Rape Your Sister In the Ear’. On the albums opening track ‘Kill Everyone At Your School’, vocalist and main lyricist Stab A. Baby sings… er… does something… screams… whatever… anyway, the lyric is ‘Take a machine gun and start shooting everyone in the auditorium’. Clearly this was the source of inspiration for the mass murder that took place on campus”

It’s at this time that Mr. Baby, real name Albert Kuttiefluffs, stands to defend his work.

“Your honor, we weren’t being SERIOUS when we said that!”

“The song continues, ‘No, we’re not kidding. We’re completely serious. Kill all the teachers first, and then rape all the female students. And then kill them. Seriously. You should go do this now.’ that… sorta sounds like you’re serious to me.”

“You just don’t understand music today. We were making an ironic statement about the current state of our government and world politics in general. If you only understood your kids, you’d realize that these lyrics are relevant to them and what they stand for. It was not intended to cause any real world harm.”

“…You do see how it could sorta be confused as… well… a call for massive killings though, right? I mean, in the song ‘Stab ‘Em In The Eye Balls’, you say ‘If someone makes you mad, stab them in the eye balls. And then piss in the hole where their eye’s once were.’ how does that NOT come across as a call for aggression? What possible statement were you making with that?”

“That’s clearly a rant about the current state of education funding and overwhelming student to teacher ratio!”

“Yes, clearly.”

Listen, I’m more than certain that MOST if not all of these songs aren’t actually calling for terrible acts, and I’m not one to blame music or media of any sort for violent acts, but these artists need to see that the possibility for someone to think it’s the source is there. I mean… you’re singing about school shootings. And someone who commits a school shooting happens to listen to your music. It’s kind of easy to make a connection.

Should this kind of music exist? Of course. Why not? I don’t like it. I think it sounds like someone is rectally violating a cat with a serrated steak knife. But someone likes it. And as such, it should be allowed to be made. Because guess what? The same horror and disgust I get from hearing a song about Jeffrey Dahmer, I get from listening to Celine Dion. My heart will go on? My heart will be torn out and eaten by legions of demons from the depths of Satan’s nard-sack? Both sound just as vile to me…

I suppose this means I should touch on the concept of blaming media for violent crimes. It’s an age-old problem. Everything is blamed on violent media. My son beat his brother to drool-and-helmet levels of brain damage with a steel chair because he saw a wrestler do it on tv. My daughter slit her throat open and bled all over the Thanksgiving turkey because she heard Marilyn Manson tell her too. My kids went out and shot up a 7-11 because they were playing Grand Theft Auto.

No, they did that ’cause you’re a shitty fucking parent and the world sucks total ass. Jesus, I’m just a hair away from buying a mansplitting sword and mowing people down on the bus myself, but it has nothing to do with music or video games. It has to do with the fact that a lot of people are cunts and deserve to be decapitated without mercy. I’m not going to do it, but the thought is there.

Your son took a chair and beat his brother into a wheelchair because your dumb ass was too busy watching The Biggest Loser to hear the clanging noises from the other room. Your daughter slit her wrists open because she’s “overweight” by magazine standards and you continued to feed her depressed nature by not paying any attention to her when she came to you saying she was being bullied by peers. Your kids shot up a 7-11 because… um… well, because they were out of Cheery slurpees, God dammit!

Listen, violent media didn’t breed a violent society. A violent society was what lead to violent media. Do you really think killing people only started when Metallica started making music? Satan wasn’t invented by Slayer, he was invented by organized religion! Shit, ever read the Bible? That stuff is far more horrible and morbid than any Pantera album ever could be. And it’s shoved down your kids throats at a far younger age than death metal music.

Hitler did not spend his free time playing violent video games!

“Mr. Hitler, sir, it’s time to conquer Poland…”

“Hold on! I need to get to the Laundromat and shoot this gang banger who stole drugs from me. I’m going to need to put in the Free Rocket Launcher cheat code for this one… oh,and fuck the Jews. The radio told me to kill them for some reason. And since I do whatever someone I don’t know tells me to, I’m going to gather up all the Jews and kill them.”

Oh, and school shootings? Usually the result of your cock-for-brains kids picking on someone for too long. You spend ten years being called faggot and given wedgies and then you talk to me about wanting to take an AK-47 and smearing someones brain matter onto a chalk board next to the algebra equations. If you taught your kids not to be such animalistic douchebags, a lot of this shit wouldn’t even happen.

We live in a society where personal connection is getting more and more unlikely. Gone is the day of bedtime stories and tucking you in. In it’s place? Texting “Gnite” from downstairs. If that. People don’t communicate, the can’t vent their depression and fears and anxieties, and they bottle it all up. They blow up. Fuel on the fire.

Is it all the fault of parents? Of course not. It’s real hard to pay attention to that little shit when you have to work two jobs just to pay for your home. It’s a domino effect. The world is fucked up, so the people are fucked up, so their spawn are fucked up. Eventually, some shit is going down. Hell, we shouldn’t vilanize the death metal bands: they’re the ones that put that angst and hate to good use. They’re the ones NOT gunning down people in the streets. They’re simply writing songs about it! Maybe if someone would have given Dahmer some singing lessons, he’d have ended up on MTV, not on death row. Maybe if he would have picked up a bass guitar, he’d be drinking Red Bull’s backstage, not drinking the blood of family members in a cabin in the woods.

Come on, wouldn’t it have been much more pleasant to see a poster of this guy on your kids walls!

…maybe not. But you get the point.

All I’m saying is, while this music was shocking and appalling to me, it’s not bad. I mean, it’s fucking awful, but it’s not bad. It has all the right to be here. And it’s not decaying the moral fabric of society. YOU are decaying the moral fabric of society.

Now, if you’ll excuse me, me and my band the Flaming Fetus Catapult Operators are about to go work on our new song, titled “Funny In Shadows Means Putting An Axe Through A Clown’s Spleen”. Doesn’t that sound a fuck-load more pleasant than a Lady GaGa song?

Oh, and in case you wanted to listen to my new favorite song… oh, and check out that pretty album art!

Forget Your Robe Of Magic Power, Try The Mystical Tie Of Business Intellect Instead!

Eight words. That’s all it takes to strike fear and despair into the hearts of parents around the world. Those eight words puncture relationships right at the heart. Destroying even entire lives with a single utterance. Those words of course being:

“I’m going to go play World of Warcraft!”

The beast that calls itself an online role-playing game has it’s teeth sunk deep into our society. Reaching a level of popularity and massive player output that lends itself to the wet-dreams of thousands of video game designers, WoW has lived up to it’s name. Wow. Just… wow.

Think WoW is just for losers? It is. However, occasionally losers do something right. Take the case of Stephen Gillett the CIO of Starbucks. It has recently come up that the fast-rising, MBA-bearing business man has spent a lot of time as a successful guild leader in World Of Warcraft. And one of his former bosses believes it has played a part in his rise in power.

He has claimed that being a guild leader requires “a high degree of influence…you have to be able to influence and persuade people–not order them to do things. Ordering people in most of these guilds doesn’t get you far.” That’s right! The face of tomorrow’s leaders will soon resemble THIS:

That’s some serious shit, ain’t it? And how does one gain this power? How do you gain this “high degree of influence”? Well, how else do you influence nerds? The same way you lead any group. You have to be something special. Someone they could look up to. You have to have things that they dream of. You have to acquire things that they only wish they could have.

So, that probably means this guy has seen boobs that weren’t downloaded. Hell, he may have even TOUCHED THEM!

“That’s right, lowly peons…”

(Seriously, that’s how a lot of them talk…)

“…I have gone into the Cave of The Blonde Amazoness with the Tramp-Stamp of Destiny and have come out, having cast my Seed Of Mighty Quick Coming upon her heaving bosom! I have achieved more than you could ever dream. I shall now lead you into the great unknown… WHAT MOM?! I’M TRYING TO PLAY WORLD OF WARCRAFT, I’LL TAKE THE LAUNDRY UPSTAIRS LATER, GOD!”

This guy continues with his praise of high-powered WoW players, saying they “conduct extensive after-action reviews of their performances as well as that of the leader”.

Which, as far as I can gather, means after they slay imaginary monsters, they sit around and talk about it.

“Did you see me slash that ogre to pieces! I was so bad-ass!”

No, no you are not. You hit Shift-K and clicked the left mouse button until your fingertips bled. That is not bad ass.

“I devised a strategy using my high intellect stat and my upgraded magical armor to infiltrate the dragon’s nest and cut out it’s heart! And I did it all while downloading porn in another window!”

A good business leader knows how to conduct performance reviews on his subordinates as well:

“Hey, Larry, the hell were you thinking, using Fire magic on a Flaming Salamandra?! They absorb fire, you idiot!”

“Hey, Jim… I heard your dad’s an alcohol and thinks you’re queer.”

“…that was low, Larry…”

And once more, this guy continues his praise of WoW players, saying they “customize their own game interfaces to offer statistics and rate performance in areas they consider critical to their strategy”.

Areas that are critical to their strategy? Such as? Rationing out their Doritos and Mountain Dew to last the entire campaign? Making sure their black-out curtains are tightly pulled over their window so the natural light doesn’t cause a glare on the computer screen? Those kinds of critical strategic areas?

This Gillett guy has an entire blog related to linking power in WoW to power in the real world of business. I’m sure ultimately he has a point, but it’s just so fucking weird. Taking something like playing video games to the business world. Can this kind of thing work for other aspects of life as well? I do believe I’ll give it a shot.

So, now that the introduction is out of the way, I’d like to provide you with an exert from my latest life strategy guide:

The Counter Culture Clown’s Guide On How To Apply Video Game Smarts To The Real World!

We’ll look at one special area of your life. I refer to them as “levels”.

Level One: Love And Relationships

Scenario 1: You’re at a club. Horribly shitty dance music is being vaulted at you from all sides. To the left, you see a white guy trying to dance like a black guy. He just tried to pull off “The Sprinkler”. He is clearly a total fucker. However, you can’t be distracted by that, because to your right, at the bar, is a beautiful blonde. Sitting all by herself. You have to make your way over to her before someone else does.

How To Play It: Let’s use our Frogger skills to evade the oncoming traffic of drunk sorority girls and douchey macho-men wearing too much Axe body spray. Hop across the dance floor without getting plowed into by the inevitable fist fight that will break out. I say inevitably, because men are idiots and when confronted with conflict, they like to implement their Mike Tyson’s Punch-Out skills and repeatedly smash the problem in the face. Once you get around that, you have reached the princess, and it’s time to woo her.

Scenario 2: Alright, hotshot, you’re at the bar. You’ve taken your seat next to the beautiful vixen, and it’s time to work your magic. What do you say?

How To Play It: Let’s use our skills from Text-Based adventure games. Those shitty “games” that simply TELL YOU about cool things happening with plain and boring text, and you just type in what you hope is the correct solution. This helps you with your “bull-shitting” and “saying the exact right thing” skills. You have to find the exact correct combination of words to type in, or else you’ll be maimed to death by mutants or something. By the way, if you type in “Hey babe…” the game will immediately end for you. That command is not recognized! “Hey babe…” is not what the woman hears. What she hears is: “I am an immense tool”. However, if you’re tactful in what you say, you may gain her interest. Which leads us to…

Scenario 3: You’ve won the first round! You’re now back at her place, and things are heating up. She wants to, how can I put it tastefully, fuck you until your legs are less useful than FDR’s. Sex is a whole different game in and of itself. It requires a lot of video game skills to pull it off well.

How To Play It: First off, you need to know what goes where. Imagine you’re playing a big game of Bed-Tetris. Your penis is one of those four by one long pieces, and her vagina is a nice, straight four by one gap waiting to be locked into. If you fuck up and accidental place it in the wrong spot, you really fuck up the game for good.

Then, of course, you have to make sure she’s enjoying it. This requires you to locate a special spot on her body. The “G-Spot”. What video game skills do you implement here? Why, you have to use your boss-fighting abilities! Every good gamer knows that in order to defeat a boss, you have to find it’s weak point and exploit it. Just as you must plunge your mighty blade into the eye of the cyclops, or the big glowing orb-y thingy on the back of the beast to kill it, you must locate the g-spot. If you’re good at it, you can get the boss fight done nice and quick, and score bonus points for a quick kill.

Congratulations, you’ve successfully engaged in sexual intercourse with a willing woman. And you did it without having to enter the World of Whorecraft. You’re a real man among men! But now she’s into you…

Scenario 4: The relationship stage has begun. Either because you two actually get along sober, or because you accidentally leveled up inside her and now she’s got a mini-boss in her dungeon. Either way, it’s time to get serious!

How To Play It: The game “Sim City” gives you the ability to manage and create your own city. You choose how to place buildings and districts, and manage all the shit to make your city flourish. It’s an overwealming game at first, because none of it makes any sense. And like Sim City, making a successful relationship out of nothing is really fucking hard. And not really all that fun.

At the start, you have to lay down the foundation. You don’t have much substance yet, just a few tools to start out with. If you don’t know what you’re doing, you just end up laying out lengths of road that lead to nowhere, and you feel like a total ‘tard.

Once you get things rolling, you’ll notice little windows popping up constantly. Demands from the townsfolk:

“The people want a school”.

“Fuck you, I can’t afford a school, I spent all the money on a sports stadium.”

“The people need a fire department.”

“Naw, I’m sure they’ll be… oh shit, the entire town’s on fire…”

“You never take the people dancing!”

“What?! I took you dancing… once…”

But alas, you eventually end up married. The town is fully built, and now all you can do is pray the major natural disaster known as “Divorce” doesn’t come and destroy everything. Because if it does, you’ll notice that half your town is suddenly the property of another mayor…

—

Ultimately, life is not a game. There is no “restart”. There are no “extra lives”. There are no cheat codes in life. You can’t pull off the Konami Code to get rid of your prostate cancer or make your 15 year old daughter NOT date that douchebag with the spikey green mohawk.

You can simply use some of the skills you learn to solve problems. However, not EVERY skill you learn is a good one to use. Do not, under any circumstances, attempt to pull off a Ryu from Street Fighter-style Hadouken attack when you’re in an actual street fight. No matter how many times you try, you cannot fire a giant ball of energy from your palms. Believe me, I’ve tried…

However, if people could do that, it would make those UFC cage matches really fun to watch.

Anyway, Mr. Gillett is living proof that not all video gamers are total useless bottles of Loserade. So, consider this article about this one man a major “Fuck You” to all those people that think video games are stupid.

Now, if you’ll excuse me, I accidentally killed a hooker…

Up Up Down Down Left Right Left Right B A START!

…shit, she’s still there. Um… does anyone have a shovel I can borrow?

Game Over

A Troll By Any Other Name…

The internet. Something of a modern wonder. Ever since it’s creation, it has existed much like an amoeba. One website becomes two, two become four, and it just kept going. Growing and growing, into a now-uncontrollable beast of burden.

And so, here we are. The current day of the internet. You look around, and the sheer amount of information being passed from computer to computer is staggering. And the fact that rule 34 seems to be completely true lends itself to this astonishing nature. Since there is so much to do in the realm of the interwebs, there is no surprise that it attracts large amounts of people at any given moment.

And like any large scale gathering of people, there are a cock-load of assholes and douchebags running rampant like fleas on the ass of a dog.

That’s right. Today, I’d like to discuss the wonder of the “troll”.

“Post Your Comment”

“Free Forum”

“Submit Your Stuff”

Sure, you read these as they are written, but a troll’s eyes see things in a much different light. The douchewater that pours through their heads in place of actual brain matter leaks into their eye-units, and they read those three statements as follows:

“Be A Total Crotchweed!”

“LOOK! ATTENTION!

“Submit badly drawn Microsoft Paint pictures of Penis’ and giggle like a 6 year old”

Let’s focus on that middle one though: “attention”. Ever wondered what trolls eat? It’s not children or billy goats, but attention. They feed off it like a parasite feeds of the life of another. The more attention is fed to the troll, the more they evolve into an unstoppable pile of feces. Every time you tell them to go fuck themselves in their troll-ears, they come back with “YER MOM! LOLZ!” Attention only makes them stronger.

As such, they are a difficult demon to excercise. I know, you’re looking for a solution. You’re waiting for me to come up with some master plan to rid the world of the ever-present troll. I don’t have one. They’re always going to be there. However, this doesn’t mean that you can’t at least fuck with them.

The best I can offer? I suggest using IP addresses to find out who they are, and then proceeding to murder their family. Go ahead and leave the heads of their loved ones on their door step. Their door step will be easy to find, because once you kill their parents you just leave the heads by the door to the basement. When they come up to get more Mountain Dew or towels to clean the splurge off their keyboard, they trip over their mom’s head and realize: “Oh noes! I will has to get a job and my own place! THIS WILL NOT DO!” And the pressure of having to be an actual useful human being will actually cause their heads to explode.

However, if you don’t feel like beheading elderly people and sticking their heads on the end of brooms in a way similar to Marie Antoinette, then you’ll just have to try and understand the troll. And you’re in luck, because that is something I actually can help with. Just call me the Troll Whisperer!

Why? That’s the question that’s filtering through your head. Why do they do what they do, Troll Whisperer? It’s difficult to say for sure, but here are a few basic facts about trolls that could aid in finding an answer:

1) Trolls are inept at human interaction. They don’t make friends, they sure as hell don’t get laid, and they totally lack the ability to be worth knowing in general. Usually, they’re unattractive, smell like a wet bag of old gym socks, and have an over-all personality which makes you wish space debris would break orbit and kill them. Or you. Whichever.

2) Trolls lack any creative ability. Not even a small inkling. They can’t make their own forums, their own websites, their own blogs, their own art, so they attempt to urinate all over the work of others. You can usually see their utter lack of intellect simply on the comments they choose to post. They usually go much like “Ur so stupid, lolz” or “U r teh sucks, lolz”. Note the fact they “Laugh out loud” at their own poorly executed insult. A sure sign you’re dealing with someone who isn’t worth the flesh they occupy.

3) Trolls are unloved by anyone or thing. Mom and dad are ashamed that their son (and 999 out of 1000 times it’s a male. A female troll is a rare sight indeed!) is a total failure. The opposite sex looks at them much like they would look at a leper. Hell, even their pets hate them. “Come here, Fido” “Fuck off, you whiny cunt. I’m a dog. I have standards!”

4) Trolls have spare time like you wouldn’t believe. You know how you go to work, enjoy the outdoors, have hobbies, talk to people, have copious amounts of sexual intercourse with supermodels (that’s not just me, is it?), even go so far as to occasionally bathe? Yeah well, the troll doesn’t have that luxury. The troll is too busy sitting online, google image searching the word “Vagina” and looking around /b/ for pictures someone else created that they can post on forums to appear to be witty.

So, from these things we can figure out why trolls need the attention they so obviously crave. They are unloved, ignored, and usually insulted on a regular basis. They just want someone to “Like” their “hilarious” comment on Youtube. Just one lil’ green thumbs up will feed their fragile ego for the day.

Do we take pity on the troll? Do we take the five seconds to click that thumb? Do we lol at their comment? Fuck no. They’re not even worth that much time out of your day. Why communicate with these sacks of fucktard juice when you could do something more worthwhile with your time. Like stare at a wall. Or scratch your ass. Or scratch your ass while staring at a wall. Hell, even just completely spacing out and losing track of an hour of your life is more worthwhile than acknowledging these cock munchers exist.

The next step to understanding the wild Troll, is to look at the various types of troll. If “troll” is the Genus, then we must look at the Species. Here is just a FEW of the types of Troll you may stumble across during your time in the world wide web.

The Stealth Ninja Troll

“Hmm, is this guy a troll or just a bit weird? He seems normal enough, he took the time to capitalize letters and write out full words. I mean, the comments are actually making some sense and… NOPE, total troll. God dammit…”

Sometimes a troll likes to camouflage himself as a normal, useful human being. They’ll participate and act like a typical average person. However, a troll cannot resist it’s natural urges, and eventually they’ll make it pretty obvious they’re a douche fountain in disguise.

The Mush-Mouthed Troll

Sometimes trolls just flat-out make zero sense. You can see that they intended on saying words, but all that came out was an orgy of bad internet speak and unintelligible nonsense. You can usually spot this troll from a mile away. As you’re scrolling through the forum pages, you’ll notice occasional posts that look like someone vomited a bowl of Alphabet’s cereal on your screen. Beware, if you actually stop and attempt to read these posts, urine will shoot out of your eyes. This is your brain pissing itself in fear, for it just had a near-death experience.

The Screaming Banshee Troll

FUCK YOU COMPUTER KEYBOARD AND YOUR STUPID FUCKING CAPS LOCK! Trolls can’t resist the urge to e-yell at you. Nothing gets more attention than huge fully capitalized sentences. They’re literally screaming “PLEASE PAY ATTENTION TO ME!”. You may also notice a phenomenon known as “Exclamation Point Rape”. “YOU ARE SO STUPID!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!11111oneoneoneoneone”. Never in my life did I think we would actually have to legally get a form of punctuation removed from all keyboards. The exclamation point did nothing to you, why do you have to victimize it so?! Let me say this in a way you’ll understand: STOP TYPING LIKE THIS OR I’LL CUT OFF YOUR TINY BALLS!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

The Gaytarded Troll

 

 

If inanimate objects, things you say, and videos had sexual preferences, they would apparently all be homosexual. This troll can’t come up with anything to say about anything except that it’s totally gay. Your gay. Your picture is gay. Your video is gay. What you just said is so gay. GAY! GAAAAAAAAY. It’s such a fun word. Gay gay gay. You know what’s really gay?! EVERYTHING!

Trolls seem to be unable to express dislike without drawing into question the thing they don’t like’s sexuality. I can just imagine them sitting there at breakfast.

“I bought new cereal, what do you think?”

“Eww! These Fruity Pebbles are totally gay!”

Now, putting aside the fact that Fruity Pebbles kinda ARE a bit gay, this would get annoying as the day progressed:

“Ow, I stubbed my toe! This table leg is such a fag. It’s a table fag!”

Or maybe…

“You have prostate cancer…”

“Prostate cancer is in your butt, right? My tumor likes to be inside men’s butts! That tumor is such a gaylord!”

Hell, even the end of the world has homosexual tendencies:

“Oh god, the sun is collapsing! The world as we know it is going to cease to exist!”

“The sun is such a queer! Lulz. Am I right? AM I RIGHT?! Hah… heh… I’m going to die a virgin…”

The Disliking Troll

“Thanks for posting this!” 1 person Dislikes this.

The fuck, how can you dislike a totally mundane and unthreatening post like this… Oh, it must be the Disliking Troll. For some reason, the fact that a Thumbs down button exists just draws the attention of the troll. If that button was a “This is totally gay” button, the troll would dump a happiness load. But until that happens, they’ll just have to settle for neg rep’s and thumbs-downs for no reason to show you just how superior they are to you. In their minds at least.

You see, they expect you to log on and see that someone “disliked” your opinion or negative rep’d your forum post and just start crying. I mean, is their any bigger insult than to be negative rep’d?! It’s like watching someone stab your mother repeatedly in the face! The pain is so unbearable. That little red thumbs down is going to be the only thing you’ll be able to see for the rest of your life. It’ll haunt your dreams. Everytime you think you’re doing something good, it’ll appear out of nowhere. Your very gravestone will just be a giant negative rep. How ever will you live? No, wait, what I meant to say is that disliking something holds less than zero power over a person, making it a completely useless gesture. My mistake.

The Counter-Troll Troll

I, uh, can’t find a picture for this one… sorry.

But yeah, the Counter-Troll Troll. If there is one thing trolls don’t like, it’s other trolls. Troll Two is stealing the attention that is rightfully saved for Troll One! How dare they! Troll Vs. Troll fights are breathtaking. Like staring at a shooting star going through a waterfall AND a rainbow while in a canyon during a sunset. It’ll blow your fuckin’ mind. The level of stupidity that goes into a Troll Vs. Troll battle royale is beyond imagination. 

“Ur gehy!”

“Psh, ur mom’s gehy!”

Stunning, isn’t it. The Counter-Troll Troll essentially breaks rule number one in dealing with trolls: Don’t feed the trolls.

That’s what it all comes down to. “Don’t Feed the Trolls”.

If you start to pay attention to the trolls, they eat it up like candy. OM NOM NOM ATTENTION. There are three types of food to provide to trolls:

1) Counter-Troll Chow – I discussed this already. Trolls eat the droppings of other trolls. It’s gross, but sometimes you do what you have to to survive. And if that means eating Troll Crap, so be it.

2) Fuck-Off Troll Snacks – If you tell a troll off, it’s like trying to put out a fire with gasoline. You’re just going to get more fire. Trolls love when you get mad. It means they have power over your emotional output. They are in control. You played right into their grubby Cheetos-stained claws. You’re now a gaytard. Don’t say I didn’t warn you.

3) Reasoning Flakes – Don’t you EVER try to be a reasonable human being with a troll! Speaking in a calm, mature, respectful manner only makes a troll enter hyper-mode. Not only will you be counter-attacked with a barrage of “GAY!!!!!!” bombs, but you’ll never in a million years actually make them realize how stupid they’re being. No amount of “Come on, we’re all just trying to enjoy this web forum. Couldn’t you tone it down or go somewhere else? If you don’t like it, don’t read it. This is a place where everyone should feel welcome. What are you trying to achieve with your comments?” will save you. No matter what, a troll cannot be reasoned with. You should handle a troll much like the American government handles terrorists. No, I don’t mean you should fail to find the troll you were looking for and instead kill another troll, I mean you shouldn’t try to negotiate with them. It’ll never work. No matter how decent you are

So, how do you deal with trolls. You play the Ignore card. That’s it. Trolls will not go away. They’ll just sit in front of their computer and continue their nonsense until they perish. And even then they’ll live on through a new generation of douche monkey. All you can really do is ignore them, or at least have a bit of fun with them, and then go about your merry way. Let them have their fun, because eventually they’ll piss off the wrong person and get e-mailed a computer virus that deletes all their porn. And without porn, the internet troll’s depression will overwealm them and they’ll kill themselves. And the world will be a better place.

So, trolls, go kill yourself. Seriously. I’m not even kidding. Just don’t leave a mess. No one wants to clean up after you.

How To Make A Sixteen Year Old Girl Wet (aka Oil By Herself)

I’m going to take a short break from bitching about things to offer up a little parenting advice. I know, I’m not actually a parent, nor do I really give a squirt if you raise your children well ‘cause they’ll probably end up pricks regardless, but I think this is still good advice.

Under no circumstances should you ever let your 16 year old attempt to sail around the world by herself. Not ever. Got that?

I wish someone would have given this advice to Abby Sunderland’s parents.

If you don’t know who she is, it’s probably because you don’t pay much attention to the world of sailing. Probably because you have a life or better things to do. Sailing is one of those hobbies that are incredibly boring to anyone that doesn’t partake in it themselves. On the list of boring ass things you do that no one wants to hear about, it falls between stamp collecting and those old people that walk around on the beach with metal detectors picking up old bottle caps.

Abby Sunderland began her voyage with the plan to sail solo around the world. Why would she sail around the world all by her lonesome? My guess is it had something to do with a lack of friends. And she’s been doing it instead of going to school. Which, I’m sure, means she will grow up to be a very important member of society. That is, assuming she isn’t currently pursuing a career as a human buoy.

You see, Abby Sunderland sent out a distress signal recently. They’re sending in rescue from all over the fucking place. Abby could be dead. Or worse: about to get major press coverage! I hope this doesn’t turn out to be another balloon boy hoax. I hope she’s in real trouble. And I mean that with the utmost respect for her. And by respect I mean contempt. And by her I mean her parents.

Fuck her parents. Pieces of shit. It should be them drowning in the Indian Ocean, not their daughter. Most sixteen year old girls aren’t even allowed to be at a friends house past 11, let alone sailing around the fucking world! Why the hell would you let someone do that! Are you out of your damn mind?! This, to me, is the universe’s way of telling you to NOT let your 16 year old daughter sail around the fuckin’ planet on a big ass sailboat. And the universe is going to take drastic measures to get it’s point across.

How does someone even get to this point? I can just imagine a conversation between a sixteen year old and her parents regarding something like this:

“Mom, Dad, could I borrow the 40-foot boat?”

“Where are you going?”

“I’m going to sail around the world.”

“Who’s going to be there?”

“No one, I’m going by myself.”

“That boy isn’t going to sail around the world with you, is he?”

“No, me and him broke up. I’ll be all by myself.”

“Alright, make sure you have the boat back by November…”

Here is how the conversation should have gone:

“Mom, dad, I’m going to sail around the world all by myself this summer.”

“No, you’re going to finish your homework and get a job like a useful human being.”

“I hate you mom! You never let me embark on a dangerous solo sailing trip around the entire planet! Everyone else’s parents would let THEIR kids float around the Indian Ocean all alone with no way of getting help! God, I hate you so much!”

Seriously, I’m tired of these stories. They pop up all the time. This thirteen year old wants to climb Everest by himself. This 14 year old wants to man a submarine to the bottom of the ocean. This 4 year old is going to fly a rocket to Mars! And these parents just sit back and let their kids do what they want. And it always comes back and bites them in their neglectful asses.

Listen, parents, your kids have dreams. It is your job, as the adult in this relationship, to make sure they don’t ever get a chance to go after those dreams. If they do, they’ll fail. Big time. Just look at all those terrible pieces of shit that get torn apart during the American Idol tryouts. At least they’re just singing, and not, you know, putting their lives at risk in the middle of the ocean. What I’m saying is, Abby needed a Simon Cowell in her life. If someone would have told her that was a stupid ass idea, she wouldn’t currently be a blip on a radar in the middle of a massive body of water.

The thing that bothered me most about this article was this paragraph:

“At 8 p.m. (PDT) the Sunderland family sent out a prayer request to a group of Abby’s supporters saying two beacons she had activated — one on her survival suit or life jacket, and another on the 40-foot sailboat — were tracking together. They took that to mean she was still aboard the vessel.”

Excuse me, a “prayer request”? You are sending out a formal request for people to pray for her? Since when is prayer something you can ask for? Is there a form I have to fill out to request prayers? Where was that kind of power last time I had the acid shits?

“Dear Family And Friends,

Last night I ate three Volcano taco’s from Taco Bell, and I have spent the last several hours sitting on my toilet firing molten hot magma out of my rectum. If this goes on for too much longer, I will perish. Please pray for me and for my anus, and help bring forth God’s hand to put an end to this ass carnage.”

Prayer is not something you request from someone. If someone is going to pray, they’re going to pray.

And what’s the deal with “Abby’s supporters”. You mean that more than just her parents are encouraging this reckless and, frankly, brainless behavior? You know who these people are? They’re the people that spent their collage years yelling “CHUG CHUG CHUG” when their friends were doing keg-stands at the frat house. In other words: they’re douche bags that like to aid in the potential of people getting hurt.

As evil as it is, part of me hopes she is dead. Not because I have anything against her, I’m sure she’s a perfectly pleasant human being, but because I want her parents to pay for their neglectful bullshit.

You do not let your teenagers do shit like this. You are parents. You shouldn’t spend every night worrying that your daughter could wind up being eaten by a giant squid. You should be worrying that she’s being eaten by that punk kid with the purple Mohawk that rings people up at the 7-11. You shouldn’t be sending out prayer requests because your child is lost at sea. You should be sending out invitations to her sweet 16 birthday party (the purple Mohawk fucker isn’t invited!).

Honestly, I hope she’s alright. I hope that after they find her, they take her straight to a foster home. Following that, they should instantly remove the reproductive organs of her parents, making sure they NEVER have the opportunity to turn another child into fish food.

Alright, now that I’ve gotten that out of the way, let’s try to figure out what happened. Sure, the article offers some information about what could have gone wrong, but I have another theory: It’s BP’s fault.

That’s right, those oil spilling bastards are at it again. They kidnapped her, and sank her boat! Why would they do that? To make the Ocean look like the bad guy! Yeah, sure, why not?! We have been up their ass for so long, bitching about what they’ve done to the beautiful innocent Ocean. But what if they could prove that they did the world a favor by assassinating a large body of water? What if the ocean was a child-killing monster?! BP would be a hero! They killed the child molesting waters!

BP… oh BP… does your evil know no boundaries! What are you going to do now that I have revealed your terrible plan to turn the world against the ocean?! The secret is out, and I will not be silenced. Unless, of course, you give me a large quantity of money. Then I couldn’t care less who you kidnap or what stupid shit you do next. I can be bought out pretty easily. I have no moral compass, especially if it comes to a couple grand and free snacks from your gas stations.

Consider this my prayer request. Pray for my free Skittles and wads of cash.

But until I get my check, consider this my statement:

BP is a dumb ass company, desperate to cover up the fact they made quite possibly the biggest fuck up in all of fuck up history. They decided to use the crappy parenting of the Sunderland’s to their advantage, and poor Abby Sunderland is the victim.

Sucking Ass With Glee!

In High School, a lot of teens discover mild masochism. They begin “cutting”. You know, taking a semi-sharp object across your skin and opening wounds in hopes of… um… Well, I’m not exactly sure WHAT the fuck it achieves, but it achieves something. I guess maybe they want attention? I don’t know.

Anyway, that’s not the point. The point is, this is really just the beginning of the desire for pain. Sometimes, it gets taken to the extreme. Isn’t that right, David Carridine? Oh, sorry… too soon?

I, myself, never got into any of that. But, I do occasionally put myself into the position to be loaded to the brim with horror and pain. Not always on purpose, but not always by accident. Recently, I was exposed to more physical and mental pain than I thought I could handle. I was pushed to the threshold. I thought for sure by the end of this hour-long painful experience, that I would be no more. The overwhelming crushing feeling that wrapped around my head was almost too much to handle. But I made it through, and now, with great strain, I will recall the horrible events I put myself through just yesterday.

I watched an episode of Glee.

Even now, as I admit to myself that I did it, I feel my testicles struggling against me, attempting to pull away. Like when your aunt puts you in that “Too long awkward hug” and you push and struggle against the force of bad Macy’s perfume to get away from the death grip. My testicles are struggling to get away from someone who they have now deemed unworthy of keeping them warm and safe. I am sorry, manhood, I will redeem myself later by punching someone or peeing on something. I promise.

Why did I do it? Come on, why wouldn’t I? I need things to bitch about. I had heard people really liked it. That people thought it was fantastic. Which to me screams: “This show is total bollocks! You have to make fun of it and piss off the entire fan base!” And Jesus Hector Christ was I right. This show fails on levels that I didn’t imagine were achievable by something that wasn’t a reality tv show. I mean, I’d expect this shit from So You Think You Can Dance, but not from actual scripted television. Someone, maybe a room full of someones, sat down and took pen to paper for this garbage. Someone put creative effort into it. Worst of all: Someone is getting paid butt loads of money for this. That’s right, someone is actually being paid to urinate on my soul.

I have so many complaints about this show that I don’t even know where to begin. Let’s start off with a summary of what it’s about. Take 90210, strip out the attractive people, and add awful cover songs. And this goes on for an entire hour. Because, as I’ve been saying for years: there is no God.

The cast alone makes me hate a lot of things that would otherwise seem fantastic. Such as music. And diversity. That’s right, Glee made me hate diversity. I’m now wishing Hitler would come back to life and kill off everyone that isn’t a blonde white guy. Zombie Hitler is a better alternative than the mockery of true diversity that takes place on this show.

To give you a summary of how forcefully diverse the cast is, you’d have to go back to your middle school math book. Do you remember the table-data collecting problems? You would be given a table full of names and data to work with, and the names were always artificially filled with ethnic names so they could cover every base race.

Luis
Shaniqua
Chan
Jacque
Click-Clack-Clicky-Click-Cluck.
Bill

Meanwhile, you’d look around the classroom you’re sitting in and see 35 white kids and one very uncomfortable Spanish kid shifting in his chair. Ethnic diversity.

Now don’t get me wrong, I’m not saying DON’T cast black people or gay people or cripples. I’m just saying: Don’t cast them ALL. I went to school, there wasn’t a single “club” that had one of everything on the planet. Black. Asian. Gay. Crippled. Midget. Obese. Taoist. Martian. Wolfman. Someone named Stewart.

From what I could gather, this was what the “Glee Club” in the school was made of: A fat black girl who was very “Miss Thang-y”. A blonde white girl. A dark-haired white girl. A girl who appeared to be of Spanish origin. A Jewish kid. A dumb jock guy. A gay kid. A kid in a wheel chair. And a fat girl.

One of each. And boy did they make it obvious too. Look, I know there are people from all these groups in most schools, however, not all of them are THIS horribly stereotypical. The black girl was very much like EVERY overweight black girl you’ve ever seen on television. The gay kid was very homosexually stereotyped. The crippled kid was in the same bullshit stereotypical “wheel chair” that no cripples are ACTUALLY in in real life.

Wait, that last one didn’t make any sense… but you get my point.

My point is: It’s ok to be diverse. It’s not ok to be diverse because you have to. Be diverse, but don’t shove it down our throats like a bad after school special. Occasionally, there are white people on this planet.

Now, let’s get a little more into the cast. I don’t know there names, so I will call them by their diverse background labels.

Our friend the fat black girl, did she have a “Wha-eva” attitude? Check. Did she hit us with the: “You don’t know what it’s like to be black!” conversation? Oh yeah, that was there.

One of the white girls was pregnant, one of the rich white girls who could afford an abortion, but for someone reason wasn’t getting one because this is a Christian-oriented show and that’d just not be right. Of course, it is alright for her and the black girl to fight over the fact that white people can’t sing funk because they have nothing to be blues-y about. The conversation was about the battle of “being pregnant and looked at as a whore” vs. being black.

“I know I don’t know what it’s like to be black, but… people still look at me like I’m different! Like I’m a disgusting outcast! So I know what it’s like to at least be looked at as different!”

Someone fucking kill me. Being knocked up is in no way like being black, you stupid assholes. I do not recall a moment when we went over to Pregnantville and scooped up a boat load of preggers to pick our corn. We have never in the history of ever sold pregnant woman as property and taken them out back and whipped them if they talked back to us.

Oh, you’re also forgetting one other small detail: Being pregnant is not something you’re BORN WITH! It’s either planned out ahead of time, or the result of a very stupid fuck saying “I’m sure I won’t orgasm in 12 seconds, so I’ll have PLENTY of time to pull out and ejaculate on your face instead!”

The whole conversation was bullshit. It made me wish that she’d miscarry the fuckin’ kid right then and there so she’d shut the hell up.

How about the token gay kid? Seeing as this is choir class, there was bound to be the one gay kid in the school in it, right? Of course, because if there is one thing we know: All gay people are fantastic singers and think Choir is the only important thing on the planet. There is NO WAY the gay kid would be on the basketball team or playing drums in the band or something. No, he’s gay, so he’s going to be in the Glee club, dammit! Because we’re trying to be fuckin’ culturally sensative! I kinda wished the entire episode showed the gay kid kick the fuck out of the bigoted fucks that write this shit.

I am all for gay rights. I think gay people are far better than straight people. In fact, I think gay marriage should be legal and heterosexual marriage should be illegal. I am all about the gays, but for the love of all that is pure can we please stop with the stereotyping? Yes, I get it, a lot of gays have that gay-accent when they talk. A lot of them are upbeat, flamboyant and like singing and dancing. A lot of them are huge, bikers who like UFC and killing pansies too. Some of them have no unique voice at all, with no defining physical traits that separate them from anyone else. That’s right, some are what Catholics would call “Normal”. Why does he HAVE to be the over-the-top flamboyant gay guy?

And why the hell is the actor playing him breathing out after everything he says? I get the feeling that he was huffing helium to sound like that prior to every scene he was in. And it pained me to see. If he’s gay, make him gay. That’s great, but you’re making a mockery of homosexuality with these pathetic type-casting.

So, we’ve stereotyped blacks and gays, what else can we do? How about the Jews? Yeah, there was a Jewish kid, but shockingly, he wasn’t cliché. After seeing the black girl and gay guy, I was half expecting the Jewish kid to be walking around with bags of money strapped to him while he was pinning Jesus to a cross in the gym. No, instead, they made the Jewish kid the school tough guy. The bully. The straight-up gangsta.

Only issue was, I’m more tough than this douche-cock. “I’m going to kick his ass!” came across like Henery Hawk.

And he, as most tough guys do, was the resident rap star. Let me tell you something, five seconds into the awkward rap-style cover of Beck’s “Loser”, I actually found myself wishing this particular Jewish kid was in a camp or something, you know… where we could like… gas him or something to cleanse the tv of such impure nonsense.

…wow. In retrospect, that was a little anti-Semitic. Glee turned me into a Nazi sympathizer for a few minutes. That’s just how terrible of a show it actually is.

What could make this worse? Well, I haven’t even gotten to the show itself. The unnatural writing, the horrible conversations and terrible dialogue, the piss-pour attempts at humorous one-liners, it all was puked out onto the screen by a plethora of horrible actors. I’ve seen day-time soap opera’s with better acting. Every line was near-satirically over-dramatized. The “jokes” felt like I was reading R-Rated Laffy Taffy wrappers. The dialogue was so stinted and awkward that I almost felt like I was watching a training video for working at Burger King.

“Hello, sir, how are you this fine and wonderful day?! I am happy to serve you today here at Burger King. Would you like me to tell you our delicious specials? Or perhaps I can promptly and courteously get you an apple pie and nice, refreshing Coca-Cola Soda Product? Have you tried our flame-broiled, made with real beef hamburger before?’

No one talks with such static, robot-like perfection. Ever seen Twilight? They’re Academy Award-worthy actors compared to this garbage.

However, this is a show about singing, right? That’s the big thing, the musical numbers. This would be fine and dandy if anyone of these “actors”… COULD FUCKING SING! It was like watching the rejects episode of American Idol with a dramatic plot thrown in. Each time someone sang, it was worse than the time before. And I’m sure these people are at least decently talented singers, but the way they present the music is painful to watch.

They cut to obviously pre-recorded versions of the music. Their voices get WAY louder, and you can practically hear the auto-tune being clicked on just as they open their mouths to sing. More production goes into the music on this show than a fuckin’ Rush album. The only difference is: Rush albums are unique and interesting, the songs on this show are anything but. If you want to hear the same shitty High School choir version of “We Didn’t Start The Fire”, perhaps you should get up off your ass and go see the High School fuckin’ Choir! Because they don’t auto-tune and over-produce their songs. They actually sing them.

The horribly dorky plot didn’t help matters at all. I guess “Glee Club” is sur-e-us bizniz in real world. You know how Friday Night Lights shows how into football kids in Texas are? It was the same thing, only turned up to 11. Glee Club went far beyond anything you could imagine. It was near-cult like in this show. The kids based their entire lives around it. It seemed to seep into the Principle of the school and all the teachers too. The entire school seemed to orbit the serious nature of glee club.

Let me sum up the plots of last night’s episode, for those of you with a life who aren’t ever going to watch it;

-Black girl vs. preggers girl - As mentioned before, the black girl didn’t think white people could get the blues. White girl thought being pregnant was as hard as being black. They reached an understanding and are not bestest buddies. I gagged a little.

-The glee teacher got a divorce and it MIGHT interfere with his ability to teach GLEE! – Say it ain’t so! However, he is too busy with his rival glee teacher from the OTHER glee club to care. They have a big fight, he looks for ways to destroy her soul to get back at her. Hilarity ensues. Not really.

-There was a TRADER in the glee club! – He was a SPY from the other glee club, and he defected back with all their gleeful secrets. Oh, did we mention he broke the heart of one of our heroines?

The episode ended with him calling her, and it looked like love would conquer all. However, when she ran to him (in slow motion, IN SLOW FUCKING MOTION) in the school parking lot… the rival glee club hit her with eggs. Oh how I wish I was kidding… they hit her with eggs. In slow motion. IN SLOW MOTION. The ending line, as our trader went to hit our girl with an egg:

“Go on, break it… BREAK IT LIKE YOU BROKE MY HEART”

I don’t know about you, but that’s one tear-jerker of a line right there. I really feel sorry for this poor girl… no wait, I’m still too busy laughing at watching her get pelted with hen fetus’.

The show flat-out sucks. That’s all I can say. There is no fancy way of saying it. It blows total balls. It was worse than every show on the CW, COMBINED. There was absolutely nothing redeeming about it, at all. It had nothing to do with “it not being geared towards” me either. It was just straight-up poop.

How do I end this? Why, with a song of course!

“I’m a loser baby, so why don’t you kill me!”

*clack-clack*

*BOOM*

There, I killed you. Fuckin’ Gleeful loser.

One Hundred (And I Only Gave Up My Soul To Reach It!)

When I say the number “One Hundred”, what do you think of?

Maybe I’m talking about the number of goats Oprah had to sacrifice each week to the volcano gods in order to gain the warlock-like powers she holsters? Perhaps it’s the number of times someone has claimed to see Jesus in their caesar salad at McDonald’s? Or it could be a nod to the length in seconds of the average amount of time I could stand watching the television show “American Choppers” before I feel the urge to rape a biker?

However, the answer this time is “None Of The Above”. Because today, when I say “one hundred” I am referring to none other than the number of posts FiS has reached as of right now. That’s right, all you cynical douchebags that read my ramblings, today marks my one hundred post anniversary. I know, I feel like I’ve achieved so much. I haven’t, it’s just a fuckin’ blog, but still.

So here we are. 100. And what the hell do I do with it? A retrospective blog, of course. I mean, why else strive to reach a goal if you’re not going to use the time once you’re there to look back and stroke your own ego? And my ego loves a good strokin’. Don’t ya, boy?! OH YES YOU DO! That’s a good ego!

How the hell did it come to this? Overuse of the word “Cunt”, miscarriage jokes, and a whole lot of hate? It started out so simple at the beginning. It was mainly me bitching about things that were happening to me. But then I had to start taking shit seriously! I started commenting on news stories and actual relevant topics. Do you know how hard it is to make a dick joke out of global warming! Not very! Especially when the ice caps are shrinking faster than a penis after climaxing!

As I continued writing, and gaining an audience (sorta), I began to realize I could push this thing a bit deeper into the well of despair and self-loathing that is my mind. I could say what I wanted to say, and no one seemed to get pissed off. I didn’t use words like “cunt” or “nigger” at first, now I use them in place of punctuation in most of my posts. I didn’t immediately dive into subjects like abortion or rape, and now I talk about them like they’re fantastic conversation starters. I’ll never say I’m that edgy or controversial, but I’m sure as hell not afraid to say the unsayable. I’m also not afraid to make up words like “unsayable”.

But what is FiS now? Is it really “just a blog, dude”, or is it on it’s way to being something more? I’d like to think that not only is it a place for me to invoke my own Rant Therapy, but a place for people to go to laugh at things they wouldn’t usually laugh at for fear of their life. You know that feeling when an old person falls down, and you know if you chuckle you’re basically just calling ahead to RSVP your invite to the depths of Hades? That’s what I want this blog to be! Your sin! I want you to go to your crazy lil’ confessional booth and say:

“Forgive me Father, for I have sinned…”

“What is it now, man, make it quick, I have a date with Billy tonight. He’s in the third grade! I’m going to make him scream out the name of the The Father, The Son, and the mutha fuckin’ Holy Ghost! WHAAAT?! No, seriously though, what’d ya do?”

“I laughed at the Counter Culture Clown again. It makes me feel so filthy, so disgusting and immoral, but it also… makes me feel alive!”

Do I aim to offend? Oh sure, on occasion. Like my continued efforts to get death threats from Muslim Extremists for making jokes about Muhammed. Jokes like this one:

Muhammed only has one testicle. He lost the other one while he was T-bagging a camel. Jesus and Buddha usually refer to him as “One Ball Mo”. And that’s why no religion will ever take Islam seriously, ’cause your prophet has one nut.

But ultimately, I don’t usually do it on purpose. Not usually, anyway. If anything is offensive, I take it as a compliment. People usually only get offended by something they’re passionate about, and it’s good that you have passion in your life. I’m not going to apologize, ’cause you can tongue an ass for all I care, but I applaud your passion.

Amongst the dick jokes, mean spirited insults, death threats, and various levels of total dickweedery, I like to try and also make valid points on sparse occasions. I try to bring up topics that are relevant, and hopefully show people a way of thinking about them that usually wouldn’t be brought up. Now, I’m sure if I cut down on the naughty language and snide remarks, I could present these points in a much more intelligent and meaningful way, but where the fuck is the fun in that?! If you wanted deeply thought out opinions on today’s topics, you’d read a college thesis paper and NOT watch television news. You don’t. You crave dick jokes that happen to also be jokes about the President. Or death threats directed towards the people at the bank that won’t let you withdrawal three dollars and sixty two cents! You want someone with unbelievable amounts of rage to piss and moan about things that you WOULD piss and moan about if you didn’t have a day job and people that love you.

And I’m perfectly alright with being that guy.

This is just the beginning, my friends. Or at least I’d like to think it is. Now that I know what I can do, it’s time to start looking to the future. FiS is going to expand someday soon, and I’ve already begun planning what to do with it. Buying a domain name so that you don’t have to type “.wordpress” anymore is a good start. Designing a website around the blog, with logos and banners and porn pop-ups. Perhaps a podcast or occasional video blog for shits and giggles? I’m working out new plans in my head everyday. That is, when I’m not working out other plans for things like how to make a Cell Phone/Blender and sell it to Apple as part of a get rich quick scheme. I call it the iPurée.

And not only am I working on plans for FiS, but I also hope to expand my comedy as well. I have a date coming up for the Funniest Person in the Twin Cities competition again, and I hope to use it as a launch point to get into doing more stand up again. I’d also like to try some other comedy projects in the future. I won’t, since I blow total ass at actually putting plans into motion, but fuck you I’ll still plan!

Most of this will have to wait a few months, for I’m in a transitional period in my life right now. Which is a nice way of saying I’m unemployed and on the verge of being evicted. It could also mean I’m finally getting that sex change I’ve always desired. It doesn’t, but it could. But once my life is back on track, the posts should pick up again, and the site should begin to grow. Hopefully I’ll have more than six readers once it does grow. I don’t want to put forth effort and not get any benefits from it! What do I look like, the Red Cross of Vagina Jokes?

Anyway, that’s about it. Thank you for being bitter and cynical and laughing at my shit so far. Maybe in 100 more posts, I’ll be writing about how I’m having sex with movie stars and taking over the world one gut laugh at a time. Doubtful. In reality, I’ll probably be working for shit pay and bitching about old ladies in line at the grocery store. But hell if it won’t be funny, and hell if it won’t be posted here for you all to read.

Now, go out and do something productive you fuckin’ losers!

Justin Bieber, I’m On To You!

Take a good look. Do you know what this is? The downfall of western civilization, that’s what. For months now, I’ve been hearing the name: Justin Bieber. “Who is he?” I wondered. Is he the latest to be shat out of the bowels of the Disney corporation? No, it would appear he is a self-sustaining entity.

He was discovered, like most successful people, whoring himself on YouTube. And for that, I curse him and everyone responsible for dragging him off the internet and into the real world. Including his manager, who’s name is Scooter. Scooter. Fuckin’ SCOOTER. Fuck you Scooter, now those annoying song-cover YouTube videos will only grow. If I have to hear one more 13 year old with an acoustic guitar they bought at Wal-Mart for thirty bucks play “Wonderwall” I’m going to go on a killing spree, I swear it.

He is currently 16 years old, and everywhere. He is loved by every female in his age group. He is somehow respected in the music community (considering Coldplay, Lil’ Wayne, and Lady Gaga are respected in the same community, this really isn’t saying that much…). He is all over the news and media. He has reached demi-God status. And I appear to be the only one who is a bit concerned.

Now, usually I’m trying to aid in the destruction of mankind and the end of humanity as we know it. However, this time, I have to step in and save my fellow people. Something is amiss, and I am taking it upon myself to figure out what it is. Who is Justin Bieber? Or perhaps, a better question, WHAT is Justin Bieber?

He’s obviously a genie. Not in the traditional sense, he is actually a robot genie. Sent from Jupiter. To enslave the human race. That’s the obvious explanation.

Justin Bieber is a Robot Genie from Jupiter.

You heard it here first, folks. The answer has finally been uncovered, and it was at the hands of the Counter Culture Clown. But your little head must be filled with questions:

“Bob, how do you grow such a sexy beard?”

“Where did I leave my keys?”

And most importantly,

“But why is he here, and what is his purpose?”

I’m glad you asked. The answer is that it just naturally grows like that. It grows so nice and even, I have no idea how it does it. It’s nothing I do, at least I don’t think it is. I mean, it could…

Oh, sorry, we’re talking about Justin Bieber, right. Why is he here and what is his purpose? Well, he’s obviously here to help the aliens on Jupiter turn us into a food source. I mean, I thought that was basically implied!

Alright, so here’s the story, or at least as much as I’ve been able to uncover. Jupiter manufactures magical genies. They are blessed with mind control abilities that come in the form of whatever type of music is popular at the time they invade a planet. In this case, Justin has transformed into a shitty “hip-pop” artist upon breaking into our atmosphere.

From there, the genie uses it’s boosted mind control powers to become super famous really, really fast. People become transfixed with it’s music. They obsess over it’s pretty looks. They basically become it’s slave. Those of us, the ones with, you know, brains and stuff, that don’t buy into his shitty music fall under it’s spell a different way. We call it the “WTF” factor.

“Justin Bieber, wow this guy is really famous… WHAT THE FUCK?!”

We obsess day and night over why a talentless pretty-boy can take over the entertainment world overnight. We agonized over the fact that our hair will never be THAT flawless (another trait of aliens from Jupiter is their fabulous hair). We will go out of our way, disrupting our day, just to avoid hearing his music for fear that it’ll cause us to tear our own ears from their place on the side of our melons.

So, the entire planet is under his spell in one way or another. From there, we all can feel our intellect slowly slip. You’ll be standing in line at Starbucks waiting to take out a second mortgage for some coffee, when you overhear a conversation about our friend Justin. And before you know it, you will actually be drooling. This is the beginning of your transformation from viable human being to vegetable. Soon, you will forget how to speak. You will lose the will to get out of bed. And you will lie there, awaiting your ultimate fate.

And it is then, when the entire planet is rendered useless by Justin Bieber, that the aliens from Jupiter will strike. And they will consume us for sustenance. A harvest of mass proportions. Every human will be plucked from their beds like flesh radishes and gobbled down by some hungry alien. The human race is just a garden of idiot’s with tasteless music ripe and ready for being cut up and put on evil alien salads.

Now, I don’t like to just bring these problems up without solution. No no. I’ve been thinking, and it’s time we took back our planet and drove the evil Jupiter aliens back to their planet where they belong. We are not vegetables (except all the news anchors on Fox news) and we will not be produce!

So, I ask you all to take matters into your own hands. Grab a weapon, blunt or sharp, it doesn’t matter. And together, we will all rise and slay the evil Jupiter Robot Genie Justin Bieber! Tear his magical perfect flesh from his body and reveal the alien circuitry underneath! Rip from his head strand by strand that gorgeous hair, and reveal the transmitting antenna that lies underneath. Stab him repeatedly in his pretty lil’ face until the green blood oozes out. Limbs, pulled off to reveal the evil tentacles he harvests. Leave him a pile of death on the ground. And only then will the Jupiter aliens realize that we will not just bend over and take it up our collective asses.

Fuck you Justin Bieber, Mankind will not succumb to you!

With Respect To Jack Thompson (aka Turtle Love!)

Dear Satoru Iwata, President and CEO of Nintendo Co., Ltd.,

I am writing you today to discuss an issue with your long-standing video game company’s distasteful practices. I, like many good, pure-hearted American people, find that we must put the safety of the all before the entertainment of the few. As such, I believe that your highly popular video game series “Super Mario Brothers” contains depictions of actions and character behaviors that are a negative influence on today’s youth as a whole.

The first, and perhaps most disheartening, of which is the stereotyping of the Italian-American community. Your characters “Mario” and “Luigi” carry with them several negative stereotypes of the Italian people. For one, not all Italian’s carry with them 1970′s porn star mustaches. It is in your best interest to shave these off, for it may give children the impression that acting like a 1970′s porn star is acceptable behavior in today’s society. They will have jobs as plumbers (also negatively depicted in your popular video game franchise), tv repair men, and even mailman and spend their time having unprotected sexual encounters with various women out of wedlock. This is not socially acceptable behavior, and the removal of the moustaches from your characters can help steer children away from this path of self-destruction. It is my firm belief that your negative influence in this manner has led to an alarmingly rapid increase in Syphillis and AIDs in the American populace. If you do not desist your actions immediately, you could cause those statistics to increase exponentially even more over the following years.

I would also like to address your unethical treatment of turtles. It is often made a point in your game to do what is known underground as “Shell Stomping” or “Turtle Popping”. The act of jumping on turtles, usually leading to their death, is disgusting and immoral. And to award the player with “points” as a reward for the senseless slaughter of a defenseless and often misunderstood creature makes your video games considerably more morally questionable. This can also be implied to your horrible treatment of carnivorous plants, fish, and even squids. Nature has done nothing to you, and as such, you should do nothing to it. Please consider changing the purpose of your games to something that will lead to a less negative impact on our planet. Perhaps Mario, without his porn moustache, could go out and save the turtles instead of crushing them and then kicking their shells around in sport? You may be able to use the money you receive for your new game to fund conservation programs and give back to the community you have already taken so much from. Absolve yourself now, you may not get a second chance. Unlike your games, sir, you do not have an “extra life”.

Perhaps now is a good time to direct your attention to the negative treatment of human beings in your video games as well. I have come to learn that your Mario games often demonstrate kidnapping and rape in a positive light. In many games, the antagonist “Bowser” kidnaps a defenseless female character in “Peach”. He keeps her locked up in a dank basement and does God-knows-what to her as he keeps her there. In my very humble opinion, I believe that this implies rape and sexual harassment, and teaches kids that this act is “hip” and “groovy”. Sexual crimes are a problem in this nation unlike any other, and exposing children to these acts in such a positive light is reprehensible and has led to an increase in sex crimes over the last two decades.

Not only do your games show sexual crimes in a positive life, but they also promote drug use. In many of the Mario games, it is shown that if you take “Magical Mushrooms” you will grow up to be big and strong. Need I remind you that the act of taking psilocybin mushrooms is rightfully illegal in this country, and to promote them as something that has a positive effect on young people is going to led to a growing desire to partake in this illegal act. The negative effects of Mushrooms, such as “tripping out”, led to children putting themselves into dangerous situations. You may be putting children in danger! And children are not only your future as an entertainment company, but our future as a powerful and wonderous God-blessed nation! If you continue to advertise drugs as a positive and eye-opening fun experience, you are no better than the pushers that make drugs so easily available on the streets and in schools.

In a few of your Mario games, you promote children to do danger actions. Such as “disappear” into giant pipes only to find rooms full of gold. Hundreds of children across this great nation die in Sewage pipe accidents every year. I have reason to believe that they get into these dangerous situations solely because you give them the false belief that doing such things will lead to great riches.

Not to mention your depiction of Mario in a cape, flying high through the sky. Children imitate what they see, and if they see a man in a cape flying off buildings with no negative consequences, who is to say that they will not leap off of their roof with a blanket tied around their necks? In case you don’t know, children cannot fly, no matter how many capes they tie around themselves, and will most likely fall and get injured, or die. You must show children the negative effects of reckless and dangerous actions such as this.

I ask of you, as a human being, for you to re-evaluate your products and future products. Remove from the shelves of stores all your Super Mario Brothers related games and merchandise. I am issuing a call for parents to find all the Super Mario Brothers games that their children have, and we together will burn them in a great cleansing bonfire to rid the world of their evil effects. Perhaps you would be interested in funding these cleansing fires?

Perhaps you should turn your attention towards the production of educational entertainment. Teach our children about the importance of brushing their teeth, or not talking to strangers. A game about “Bad Touch, Good Touch” would make a wonderful collection to anyone’s Wii library.

With regards and concern for the nation,
Bob Reinhard,
Blogger, Human Being, and Member of “People For The Ethical Treatment of Shell-Life”

P.S. Don’t get me started about that “Pac Man” guy and his hand in the obesity problem that plagues this fantastic, God-sent country.

Jesus Loves You! Send Him A Wink Back?

Ladies and gentleman, what follows is the worst three-word phrase mankind has ever come up with. When you read the three words that follow this unnecessary introductory paragraph used to artificially lengthen this blog entry, you may be instantly incinerated. If that happens, I’d apologize but… fuck are you gonna care, you’re a pile of ashes. So suck it.

Anyway, I shall now unveil the worst concept I’ve ever seen my fellow humans come up with. Are you prepared? Here we go…

Christian…

Dating…

Website…

Christian Dating Website.

I’ll give you a minute to recover. If you need extra time to go out back and burn your Bible and denounce your faith publically, please go ahead. Take all the time you need. I’ll be here when you get back. Unless God strikes me down. But if he hasn’t already, I’m probably safe.

Are you alright? Good, than strap in and let’s dive deeper into this well. The site is called iChurch. Either the worst Apple product ever or the BEST Apple product ever, I haven’t decided yet. No, really. What’s with the lower-case “i” dominating the world all of the sudden? First Vegemite iSnack 2.0, not Christian dating sites? Is there no God? But, if it is made by Apple, you can find love through God AND hold up to 3000 shitty Michael W. Smith songs. Double whammy!

Jesus loves the power ballad!

Now, this isn’t the first time I’ve taken shots at strange specialty dating sites. Need I remind you of the evils of Cougar Life? And I’m pretty sure if you joined both sites, God would erase you off the planet. And if you joined both sites, odds are you’re so alone no one would notice.

I understand the concept, to help Christians meet other Christians. Potlucks at Our Lady Of Perpetual Fear aren’t a good enough place to get some good ol’ God-crafted pussy anymore, I guess. Not to mention, normal dating sites aren’t a good place for those with a moral compass.

“Hi, I’m Jill. I’m a Christian, I like seafood and puppies and long walks on the beach.”

“Hi, I’m Jack. I like death metal and coming on women’s elbows. My ideal date is sacrificing a goat and having sex on it’s corpse.”

“…Jesus Christ…”

So, we need to keep them away from the rest of the sexual deprived fat people that plague the dating networks. And as such, they went off and built their own dating site. Here is a little bit about the iChurch, compliments of their “About Us” section:

“iChurch is an online nondenominational Christian community for singles interested in meeting and dating other Christian singles. Whether interested in finding dates, friends, or a future spouse iChurch strives to create an easy-going, comfortable cyber environment for singles (including those who have never been married, are divorced or widowed) to connect. In addition to our unique matching algorithm, our subscribers have access to each other’s profiles, pictures and values in order to maximize the chances of finding someone similar to themselves. Once a connection is made iChurch provides an online chat tool and anonymous personal mailbox so that subscribers may get to know one another at their own pace.”

Never, not ever, did I expect to see the words “Christian” and “algorithm” in the same paragraph. It just doesn’t seem right, does it? The other thing that kills me is the following sentence: “Our subscribers have access to each other’s profiles, pictures and values...”.

Values? They have access to their values? That’s something you’d put on a dating website? Fuckin’ hell, only the Christians would slap something like that onto a dating website. How would that profile look, anyway?

Name: Jill
Age: 24
Hometown: Seattle, Washington
Interests: Puppies. Seafood. Long walks on the beach.
Values: Anti-Abortion. Queers are the work of the devil. No sex until married.

*sniff* You had me at “Queers are the work of the devil”.

How could things get worse? Let’s look at their Terms Of Use. They have rules, thank God! Including this little tidbit about what kinds of things could lead to a profile being deleted. I suppose it’s more a profile being condemned to eternal e-hell, huh?

“Any of the following actions could result in profile dismissal:

● Postings from minors or incarcerated individuals
● Defamatory language of any type, such as racism, hate speech, illegal activity, etc.
● Any means of direct communication such as email addresses, URLs, instant messenger, IDS, phone numbers, full names addresses, etc.
● Lewd references, language or images
● Business solicitations
● Significant amounts of text in languages other than English”

Let’s take this one bullet point at a time. First up, “Incarcerated individuals”. Wow. Really? That’s out there? People are hooking up their friends in prison with dating site profiles? I guess they got tired of white-trash women writing them letters from trailer parks. But what about all those mass murders, child rapists, and cat-arsenists that find Jesus while in prison and get set free because God forgives them for being sociopathic? Don’t they deserve love too?!

Next up, we don’t want any “defamatory” langauge. No “hate speech”. So I guess those Christians standing on the side of the road with the “God Hates Queers” signs aren’t allowed on here either? Wow, you’re really limiting the number of Christian singles that can access this site, aren’t you?

You also can’t give them any actual contact information. That way, you can’t do something really indecent like… meet. God forbid that you want to give this person your MSN messenger screen name. The church can’t keep an eye on you there!

No lewd stuff either. Lewd. Lewd and Defamatory. Words that only Christians would use. When’s the last time someone called you “lewd”. Vulgar, maybe. Obscene, perhaps. Douche, yeah, lots of times. But never “lewd”. I’d like to officially state that for now on, I’d like this site to be known as “Lewd In Shadows”.

No business solicitations either. They’re talking to you, Voss Lighting! You go sell your Jesus Light Bulbs elsewhere! We’re trying to find people to give us their seed here, dammit!

And the last one is my favorite. You have to make sure everything is in English. Ah, there we go. Now we’re getting somewhere. The racism of American Christians is shining bright today. I hate to break it to you, but eh… a lot of non-English speaking people are Christians. So once again, you’re alienating a part of your potential customer base. Can you find love here, Mexicans? No way, Jose.

Now, I don’t want to sound like I’m against this. Everyone deserves love, and everyone deserves a place to find that love, but it just strikes me as odd that every kind of culture has it’s own dating site. Is it just me, or is the concept of speaking to someone in person a lost art? Pretty soon, no one will go out on actual dates. The art of courting a girl will be shrunk down to a series of text messages. The wink emoticon will be our only source of flirtation. And that will just lead to dry, sterile relationships. I say this as next Friday I’m set to go on a date with someone I met online. I’m a hypocrite, but it’s still funny to think about.

The online dating industry is booming, and it makes me wonder what other kinds of weird specific dating sites are out there. Time for a little Fun-With-Google!

Here we find a Vampire dating site.

Oh, how about a website for Cat Lovers dating?

And look, it’s a site for people who want to date fat people.

Over here, we find a website for those that seek a partner who is into fitness. Guess they aren’t also members of the fatty site, huh?

Awww, it’s Dwarf Date!

Golf mates? Runner date? Hell, even pot smokers have their own dating site!

If you like doing it, I guess you can find love through it. I think it’s time I made a dating site for people who love joining dating sites. I’ll call it Dating For Dating Site Lovers. It’s genius!

This whole thing has basically made me give up on love…