Newark Campus Legends: My Maybe Lesbian Professor

WordPress! I missed you! I assume you didn’t miss me because of the combination of the facts that you are a metaphysical inanimate object and I am an asshole.

And my readers! If you are reading this, you probably forgot all about me. I’m sorry it has been so long. NaNoWriMo and school have been kicking my ass. Oh, and as for NaNo, I failed. Miserably. I was pissed off at myself for not finishing, but oh well. NEXT YEAR!

Any way I did complete some type of writing thingy this past month. Currently I am writing another blog that I hope to have finished next week. If you love Cracked.com articles, you are going to be disappointed when you realize that the upcoming blog is a cheap bastardization of their patented listing techniques. Also I wrote a poem called Sensing My Apocalypse. It is probably one of the best poems I have ever written. I even have it laminated at the Writer’s Studio! I am planning on submitting it to Taproot this year, but I will let you guys read it too. Here it is.

Sensing my Apocalypse

Have you ever heard a dead man’s voice?

That changed words’ meanings, killed your choice

Have you ever looked into a dead man’s eyes?

Old cold tombs, sealing past lies

Have you ever stared at a dead man’s face?

Once preaching the superiority of his own race

Have you ever held a dead man’s hand?

Which brought drought and plagues to this land

Have you been cradled by a dead man’s arms?

Who falsely promised no future harm

Have you felt the beat of a dead man’s heart?

Who tricked, and ripped, and stole other’s art

Have you ever smelled a dead man’s breath?

Rotted teeth tell tales of meth

Have you ever tasted a dead man’s lips?

His twisted smile, sensing my apocalypse

 

For I have heard his whisper and seen his silhouette

He left his mark that I shall never forget

For I have felt his touch and smelled his stink

Putrid revelations make me fear to think

For I have tasted his hair and licked his skin

For I am dead too, I am man, I am sin

 

Wasn't that poem upbeat kids!

I would like to point out that this poem is mine. I wrote it, and if I find out any of you stole it, I will castrate you (ladies, I will do the female form of a circumcision on you.)

Well on that bright note, on to the blog.

In October I spun a yarn about a legend on the Campus of OSUN. Mr. Sturger vs Ms. Slope. Well I have another. This one happened my Freshman year of College. I was so naive back then [reminiscing while the song “Good Riddance(Time of Your Life)” plays] that was back when I didn’t think any of my friends would betray me, but this is not about that. No, no. This is about my maybe Lesbian Professor. I had written these down in facebook notes. I will put them together for you, my readers. And I will keep them they way that I had written them (sans grammatical errors). The entries  span most of my first quarter in college, so  not only was my writing not developed as well as it is today, my jokes are probably corny and most likely for shock laughs. I apologize in advance for that.

Well without further ado, Newark Campus Legends: My Maybe Lesbian Professor.

My Maybe Lesbian Teacher [Part 1]

Friday, September 29, 2006 at 4:11pm

On Tuesdays and Thursdays, Vanessa Landolfo, Dana Dehays, and I have a class (im not saying which one*) at 7:45 in the morning. Our professor is nice but is funny, Ya Know Funny. She as this short bowl hair cut and wears weird clothes. For instance on Thursday the 28th, she walked into the class room wearing a blue Asian shirt. Ya know, the kind of shirts that middle class white boys wear. Also she said that her “Partner” takes a lot of pictures of her cat. She also said that she was getting divorced and that it shocked her. Now she maybe married to a man, or maybe a woman. But I have a theory, she either thinks of her partner as her spouse, or they went to a state where gay marriage is legal. Now these arguments do not automatically mean she is a lesbian, but Dehays and I will keep you posted.

* I just want to point out that I am a recovering retard and that I did mention what class it was. So hooray Freshman me and my stupidity!

My Maybe Lesbian Teacher- Part 2

Saturday, October 14, 2006 at 11:15pm

For every one who wants to know if my teacher is a lesbian or not, I’ve got news for you! our teacher is… actually we do not know. But Dehays was talking about it to a girl named Abbey Scherer in our English class. Abbey Scherer is actually in the sociology class after us. One day our teacher was late to their class, and everyone was talking when one person said, “Hey do you think our professor is a lesbian?” This question of a professor’s sexual preferance sparked chatter about the classroom. The entire class decided that one day they would ask her. One day (in the other class), at the end of class our professor asked, “Are there any questions?” One kid stood up and asked the class, “Should I ask her?” the class said no. So just like I did last time I left you with no answers, sorry, but eventually we will answer this question that has plagued Sociology classes since at least this quarter. One day, one day…

My Maybe Lesbian Teacher- Part 3

Saturday, October 21, 2006 at 10:43pm

Well everybody it comes to this number 3 out of ? part series about the age old question: Is my teacher a lesbian, or is she just very odd? Well I have got news for you…No, we did not find out whether or not she likes to munch rug, but we have two more things that will confuse and probably annoy you. My friend, Abbey Scherer has given me some interesting information about her class on Thursday. Apparently, in her class, our teacher told them that she had a boyfriend in college. Abbey also told me that the professor said that she also read a book about homosexual relationships. Now I gave you two new pieces of information, but still no answers. I will leave everybody deciding at least one more time, and the notes will continue.

My Maybe Lesbian Teacher- Part 4

Tuesday, November 14, 2006 at 12:05am

Everybody, I have news for you!!!!!
My teacher is a Lesbian…No not the one Dana Dehays, Abbey Sherer, and I were wondering about. No, but another Professor. Last week she made a comment about being a lesbian, I just thought it was a joke, but Dana and Abbey asked her and she said that she was. Today she mentioned her partner and Nichole Susi and I decided that she most likely was. The odd thing about this is that she doesn’t fit into the lesbian stereotype, she is attractive. Anyway sorry that I do not know if our professor that I have been describing is or not but I will let you know.

My Maybe Lesbian Teacher- Part 5

Wednesday, December 6, 2006 at 12:39am

After ten fucking weeks of wondering, you, me, and the rest of the world will finally know the answer of the question: Does my teacher like the ladies or the fellas? The answer is… she is in fact a dyke. I will let you soak in the answer for a few seconds, because I know this must be earth shattering for you. ……………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………… Dehays has recently found a book that my teacher had written named, “We’re Here! We’re Queer! Get Used to Us!” Not only that, whenever we would do activities about discrimination she would use discrimination of homosexuals before discrimination of women or blacks.
So I hope everyone who has enjoyed these notes of mine will continue to read about my wacky adventures. And I thank you for being so patient. I would also like to thank Dana Dehays, Abbey Scherer, Vanessa Landolfo, and Nichole Susi for allowing me to mention them in my notes, and both

my teachers for letting me write about them.*

*I did have a picture to go along with the conclusion, but people smarter

than I suggested I take it down in case the professor ever read this. In lue of that, I will give you this artist’s rendition instead.

Peace

Oh, and looking back over those entries, I think it was kind of obvious that she was a lesbian. This blog post will be a testament to how naive I was back then.

Metallica: WTF Magnetic

Don’t you just love fall? All of the leaves start changing colors, The TV starts playing shows that actually don’t suck, Christmas season officially starts (just kidding, it started in August), And most importantly, the dead rise from their graves to feast on the flesh of the living. I am not sure why it always happens this time of year exactly, but there are always documentaries with terrible dialogue on TV this time of year; especially during October. I have decided that this probably due to the amount of candy that is in the stores these days. Seriously, there is a fuck ton of candy around right now.

1 fuck ton of candy

So, as usual with my bliggity-blogs, it is time to tell you what interesting things have happened in my life since my last bliggity-blog. The most important thing is that I dead lifted 320 pounds two Mondays ago. For  the fraction of my readers who do not deadlift on a regular basis, dead lifting is when you keep the arc in your back and lift a weighted bar off the ground. That is probably a dangerously bad definition, so I’ll post a video.

Yea, I did that, with twice my bodyweight. I was so psyched about that accomplishment that the next day I decided to try to bench press 225 lbs. That attempt was not so successful.  I would call myself a woman, but that would be an insult to women, especially because the owners showed me a video of a woman who bench pressed 550. This is the conversation:

Me- Hey, can you spot me, I’m gonna try to bench 225.

Owner- Hell yea! You are finally gonna get on the board? Sure I’ll spot you right after this video is over. (while we are watching it) She is about to bench 550.

Me- Damn

Owner-yea, you are about to do half of what she is doing.

I am pretty sure the owner did not intend to figuratively kick me in the balls, but he did. Especially when I could not get 225 up. I was pissed mainly because my chest is strong enough, but my triceps (the back of you upper arm- you know, the part of the arm that if older women don’t work out, it sags and flops around) aren’t strong enough yet. Hopefully next week.

Now for something completely unrelated, here is my blog.

Oh Metallica, how your music entertains me. Whether it’s the fast paced music that helped jumpstart the thrash metal genre, the slow songs like Fade to Black which you can both hold a lighter up for, and head bang to, or even the songs from Load and ReLoad which were not the best, but who can deny that The Memory Remains is a great song. C’mon, they based it off of the movie “Sunset Blvd.” Even if you hate Metallica, you should at least admit that their music isn’t entirely thoughtless like other bands out there. I’m talking about you Papa Roach.

What's Aragon doing in a Modern Rock band?

As some of you may know, I went to the Metallica concert this past Thursday, and I decided that I should share the experience with you. The concert, and the trip to and from Cleveland seemed to have a one word theme: clusterfuck. Thursday was a clusterfuck of events.

The day started out with me at the gym. Nothing too interesting other than me almost severely injuring my back doing squats. I won’t go into details, but I tried to squat 285, and failed. There is no joke here, I’m just a dumbass who decided that he did not need anyone to spot him. I could have seriously hurt myself.

After working out, I went home, showered, and visited my new favorite website (cracked.com) until my brother arrived at 4:00. We headed to Cleveland, while listening to Metallica’s latest album. It was the first time in- I don’t know how long- that he and I spent brotherly bonding time together that didn’t involve alcohol. I was actually kind of nice, come to think about it. We talked about girls, our family, and Grampa’s Cheese Barn. Somewhere on I-71, there was a billboard that said’ “Visit Grampa’s Cheese Barn.”

My brother took one look at the sign and said, “Ya, know what? Fuck Metallica, I want to go to Grampa’s Cheese Barn.”

To which I replied, “I don’t know, we already have the tickets. And I have a feeling that if we go to Grampa’s Cheese barn it won’t be what we are expecting and it may emotionally scar us for life.

My brother laughed at this, and we proceeded to have a conversation of a building shaped like an old man, bent over with his pants down and his butt cheeks spread apart, and the entrance is the anus. Try to get that mental picture out of your head.

We got to Cleveland, and headed to where the concert was. Neither of us knew where that was exactly (at all), so we decided to follow a guy wearing a Slayer T-shirt, because what bad has ever come of following a stranger that likes death Metal?

The guy is the slayer shirt got too far ahead of us, so we couldn’t follow him anymore, but by then we saw so many people with Metallica shirts on that we knew we were headed the right direction. Once we got inside the arena, I thought it was going to be smooth sailing from there on out; I was wrong. This one security guard, with a hair lip that looked good in comparison to the rest of her face, took one look at me and said “You can’t have that chain in here. You gonna need to take it off. At this point, my brother had his ticket scanned, and was on the other side of the metal detectors. Annoyed, I turned and left the building, and power walked back to my car. While I was on my way, I remembered that it was my dad’s birthday, and I promised that I would call him before the concert. Nothing very interesting came from our conversation, other than me finding out that my little sister ruined the surprise of what we got him(tickets to an OSU football game). She could not have done it in a more unsmooth way. She asked him, “Are you coming out for the game?”

And he replied, “What game?”

My sister then blurted out, “oh, never mind, just kidding.” Sigh, a great surprise ruined by my sister’s big mouth.

Anyway, I was walking back to my car as I talked to my dad and worried whether or not I was going to be let in if I was too late. As I walked passed an abandoned building with signs for the fire department or some shit and I decided that that place was a perfect hiding spot for my chain. I hastily and unceremoniously tossed my chain behind one of the signs and quickly turned back towards the arena. Other than me feeling like I was both littering and could be apprehended for suspected terrorism( I was dressed as a Muslim, it is typical garb for Metallica concerts) that plan went smoothly. At least until I realized that I still had my pocket knife on my keychain. Not wanting to waste more time or potentially get my knife stolen and used in a murder, which I would then get framed for, I decided to thow it out. Saying a solumn good bye to it, I dropped it into a nearby garbage can and headed towards the Arena.

I got in with no further problems, and my brother and I found our seats. Oh, and great seats they were. Directly in the middle, in the balcony. My brother said that he could throw a rock (aka his chapstick- ha what a girl) and hit Lars Ulrich in the balding head. I laughed, not so much at my brother, but at the thought of hitting Lars in the head with something. Don’t get me wrong, I love Metallica, but Lars is a bit of a wiener. If you don’t believe me, fuck a pinecone.

The show was already in progress when we found our seats, some French band named Gorrrorrorrorrurrrrrrrrr (the dude fucking growled it. That is probably pretty damn close to the actual name) was the opening act. I couldn’t understand a word the lead singer was saying, but since he is French, I’m assuming all the songs were about baguettes, hairy legged women, and surrendering to the Germans.

The Next band to play was Lamb of God, which when my brother realized that they were about to play, he had an orgasm. Don’t ask how I know. I could actually understand this band, and they were  pretty good, so hooray for them for being intelligible. Right after Lamb of God finished their set, these two hardcore metal heads sat down to my left. In what I assume must be 80’s heavy metal fashon, they both pulled out their cell phones, and started texting. Who can blame them, really? Texting is very hardcore. “Woo! Leather n metal lol!!! These guys were too hardcore for the new Metallica, and they left in the middle of Metallica’s set. What cock bags.

While we are on the subject of people I was sitting near, it was a good thing that I did not have my chain with me, otherwise I would have chocked the two fat bitches that were sitting behind us. They were louder than the music at times. They were like two fat white howler monkeys.

Finally, the main event, Metallica. The Arena goes black. What little light that is shining shows smoke drifting lazily over the stage. A recording of their song “Ecstasy In Gold” starts playing. The crowd starts cheering, and I feel goosebumps start climbing up my forarms. These goosebumbs sprint up the back of my neck and down my spine once the drums start. The song, like a war march, is strong, orchestral, and has a voice even without lyrics.

As that song finishes, another sound comes through the speakers: a heartbeat.  People begin to cheer, and I know that the band is approaching the stage. Suddenly, lasers kick on, and the band begins to play. The lasers danced like dozens of neon anorexic strippers on speed, dazzling me, blinding me, making me want to throw up a little. I wanted to sing along, but the song is so fast paced and I haven’t memorized the lyrics to the point where I can confidently sing along.  It would have been perfect if the douchebag next to me wouldn’t have been texting.

I won’t bore you with the details of the entire concert, but there were still more interesting things to come. During one of Metallica’s greatest hits(I mean this song is a “they play this at every concert,” hit This song is their “freebird”) more commonly known as One, the sound system blew out. At first I yelled, “What the fuck” which if you think about it, is a perfectly reasonable response. For a minute I seriously thought I went partially deaf. The worst part is, I thought that, and then just shrugged it off, because this concert was that important for me. The sound quality once the speaker blew out wasn’t terrible, but my side of the arena was getting the echo from the working speakers.  This caused every one of Kirk Hammet’s solos to be a clusterfuck of random sounds.

I really feel bad for Metallica in all of this. It wasn’t their fault the sound system went down, in fact, I’ve got a sneaking suspicion that Lex Luthor had something to do with this. He hates Metallica almost as much as that dude from Megadeth that no one gives a shit about (look that joke up). Think about it. You haven’t been in Cleveland for five years, and the next time you go there, you’re being inducted into the Rock and Roll Hall of Fame. Wouldn’t you want to put on an amazing concert for that city, even if it is home of the Browns? Fuck yes you would. But then, the new Roadie fuck up the sound system and you may have lost your fan base in an entire city. They did eventually get it fixed, but towards the end of the concert it went out again, and that sucked.

After the concert was over, my brother and I headed back to my car. I retrieved my chain from behind the sign, and said a silent prayer for my pocket knife. I really liked that knife; it had my name engraved on it, how could I not like it. It combines my two favorite things: Me and cutting things.

Anyway, it was about midnight when we left Cleveland, and headed back to my house. The trip was relatively uneventful, other than when I got pulled over for going 76 in a 65. That was the first time I have ever gotten pulled over, and luckily for me, the cop only gave me a warning.  We got to my house around 2:30 Friday morning, and I immediately went to bed, because I’m stupid and felt morally obligated to go to class the next day.

So that is my story of the Metallica Concert. If there is one thing that I learned from the whole experience, it is take all potential weapons off your person before leaving the car. Oh, and there are only 5 hot girls in Cleveland, and they were all at the Metallica concert.

good night and good…ummm… fuck?

Newark Campus Legends:Mr. Sturger vs. Mrs. Slope

Everyone, I hope all of you are all as excited as I am. Chances are that you are not so excited that you shaving your genitals and rubbing tapioca pudding all over your shirtless torso as I am doing now (yes, while I am typing. I’m just that talented.) Well, you should be. This is not only my first blog in almost two weeks, it is also the first blog that I have written since classes started back up last Wednesday.  And oh, are they fifteen credit hours of pure joy.  The classes I am taking are Engilsh ***-Critical ******* for ******* Majors ( you’ll see why that is censored in a minute), Spanish 104 aka Why does an English Major need to take this?, and Geology- which is more commonly called “Rocks” by those who don’t give a damn about Geology (everyone.)

Look at how pretty this rare stone is. It's a shame i don't care.

Something interesting about my Spanish class – the building that the class is in (Hagerty Hall to those of you who know main campus Ohio State) is apparently haunted by a phantom. The only proof I have of this is a creepy organ playing during the class time. Seriously, who plays the organ at 6:30 on a Thursday? No, who plays the organ ever? Even churches are migrating to acoustic guitars and drum sets.  That phantom seriously needs to get with the times. That is the only proof I have so far, but I will keep you posted.

In other Me news, I got another major part of my Halloween costume last week. This costume is proving to be the most elaborate and expensive ever. I will be so pissed if it is not as good as my Garth Algar costume from last Halloween. That one was my best so far, and I am determined to beat that. I am hoping that it will be better than my best four costume ideas combined. Which would look something like Garth dressed as a convict Moses who was about to be put to death via the electric chair, when he got ran over by a car. I am not going to tell you what the costume is going to be, but I can assure you it is going to be a doozy.

So at work on Saturday I found out I have a nice ass. Let me explain. On Saturdays during the college football season, employees at the grocery store that I work at are allowed to wear OSU shirts. Saturday I was wearing my long sleeve shirt under my apron, and my one coworker commented that we hadn’t seen each other for a while, and that my shoulders have become broader since the last time we worked together. My coworker then said, “I hope you’re not offended by this, but I’ve noticed that you have a really nice ass.”

I laughed, but laughter is usually my default action when I feel awkward. I guess it was a little strange to me when it came from George. However, that did explain why he gave me those anal beads and the Gatorade with a roofie in it earlier in the day, but no matter…

To be honest, the situation did happen, but a woman said it, not a man. Oh, and there was no anal beads or spiked Gatorade that I remember, but the day was a bit of a blur.

While we are on the subject of women flirting with me at places of my employment, I got hit on by a 50ish year old woman at the Writer’s Studio on Monday. She said she wasn’t, but I knew that was bullshit. I forget how the conversation started, but it ended with her commenting on my eyes (apparently they are beautiful.) Before I was able to thank her, she stated that she was not flirting with me. Me thinks the lady doth deny too much. I am starting to suspect that I may not have a personality. Basically, I am basing this on the theory that the better looking someone is, the less of a personality they have. But then again, ugly people probably made that rule up to feel better about themselves.

Anyway, on to the blog…

Every county, state, city, town, major university, and cavernous vagina has some kind of legend. OSU-Newark (Nerk or OSUN as I will be referring to it for now on) is no different. Infact, there are many legends that swirl around the Newark campus like a turd in a toilet like:

1. The ghost that haunts the men’s locker room in Adena
2. The human hand that is hidden somewhere James Stjohn’s room.
3. The laying girl statue (Suzy Creamcheese as I have named her) mysteriously appeared on campus after a brutal murder of a girl occurred in that same spot in 1976
4. Pornstar legend John Holmes graduated from there in 2008, surprisingly 20 years after he died. Making him the first zombie to ever receive a Bachelor’s Degree.
5. The “circle of friends” statues come alive at night and kill any late-night jogger

No, this is not a convicted rapist; this is John Holmes. But there still sin't much of a difference.

There are dozens more that I just made up, but I would like to tell you about one that came upon me surprisingly, and deals with people I actually know. Now to protect their identities, I will not use their real names, but I will hastily make up names so that no one (other than the readers who know who I am talking about-which is just about everyone) knows who I am talking about. This is more to prevent some major shit to go down in my class. It would be interesting, and make for one hell of a good blog, but unnecessary drama that I feel is, umm… unnecessary.

My class mate and “friend,” Burger hates our English professor, Caroline. And to my knowledge, she hates him back. Now, it could be that he just says that she hates him, but there could be some animosity that I am not seeing. Anyway, months before the class started (yea, MONTHS) he was already talking shit on her and how he dreaded the class. He said that he was going to have to work twice as hard in that class to get a half way decent grade.

Here is my theory of why they don’t get along: Caroline hates men, and Burger is a chauvinist. I’m just throwing it out there. You should hear some of the things he says sometimes

Anyhoo, so when class started last week, I was expecting him to say very little base on the simple fact that he hates her, but to my surprise Burger is talking the most out of the entire class except for that one annoying bitch. There is always one of those in every class. Anyway, Burger will just spout out whatever he is thinking whether it is right or wrong or a fully developed thought, or just a mind fetus that was miscarried. What’s even stranger is that at one point, Caroline said that she was born in Mississippi, to which Burger replied, “Really, Mississippi? Hmm…” He said it with a genuine interest that I do not believe was faked. At this moment of their personal connection (all be it brief connection) everything I know was turned on my head. Swirls of color and and blurred shapes exploded all around me as loud indistinguishable noises stabbed my eardrums. It was like watching a Michael Bay movie, if a Michael bay movie made sense.

Now you may be wondering “Doug, why are you considering this a legend?” or “are you really this bored to make this crap up?” or even “why are you wearing that thong?” and my answer to these 3 questions is “Because it feels good.” And for the first question, I am not the only one who knows about it.

Earlier this week another one of my classmates pointed out what I was noticing myself. She even knew that they hated each other. I was amazed that I wasn’t the only one who knew, and we both laughed about it, sitting on our respective towers watching the actors play out the melodramatic, yet overly dramatic soap opera. In next Friday’s class we will find out who is the father of Alisha’s baby. And then we will critique the scene using historical criticism.

One person makes a situation like this a blog post, two people make this situation a conspiracy, three or more people make the situation a legend. Wednesday, as I was headed into work at the WS, I saw one of my old classmates from Spanish 102. I told him that I was in the English class that I am in. he then explained to me how there is this kid he knows that is in that class. He told me that this kid hates Caroline and that he has been talking shit on her about for the past year.

To which I replied, “wait, who is taking a shit on who, why do you know this, and why are you telling me?”

After several minutes of confusion, retelling of the information, and an explanation between the difference between talking shit on someone and taking a shit on someone (one that involved the most disturbing PowerPoint presentation ever) I realized that he was talking about Burger. We laughed about it, and I shared the information I had. Soon after, I headed into work, while my friend went home to probably make more German schiza slideshows.

Basically, this is giving me something to do for this class time for the rest of the quarter. Ya know other than learning Englishy things and stuff. And it gives me a good opportunity to people watch two people who hate each other and how they act in a group. This is my little social experiment. Yea, I’m not a diabolical douchebag at all.

Well, it has taken me a week, several blog topics (one of them being none) and a lot of my self esteem, but I finally finished this blog.

Enjoy bitches- I guess I should have put that at the beginning. Oh well.

Oh, and I feel that at many points in this blog I used pictures that would have been better if they were of  women in  bikinis, so here is one. You’re welcome.

Peace

The Monsters We’ve Made, and How to Kill Them

A lot of interesting things happened this week. My older sister came out. No, not of the closet, out to my house. However that would have made my week much more interesting… Anyway, after my older sister came out of the closet, both of my sisters, my mom, and I played guitar hero. My mom confuses me sometimes. I’m not sure whether she is cool or not. For instance, last Friday she rented “Pineapple Express” and “I Love You Man” not for me to watch, but for her to watch. The entire weekend I kept thinking My mom is pretty damn cool. But then on Monday, we were playing “Santeria” GH World Tour, and she said, “Is this The Black Eyed Peas?” I was dumbfounded a little, but luckily my older sister was able to laugh and able to tell her that it was the band was Sublime. I did manage to get out “How could you mix Sublime and The Black eyed Peas up?” Now I am debating whether or not my mom is cool. I guess I am going to give her the benefit of the doubt and say she’s cool just because I don’t give a damn about Sublime or The Black Eyed Peas.

I may look unhappy, but i was actually having a blast.

I also started to buy items for my Halloween costume. I’m not going to tell you what I am going to be, but lets just say, it is more work than I expected. I have 4 of the 6 major components in my possession now, but I still have to buy at least 10 more small things for it to be complete.

Today I spent 3 hours zip lining from tree to tree in the Hocking Hills. That was fun, and I was the fastest zip liner there. That’s right, take that women and 40 year old men! Who kicks ass? I KICK ASS!!! I did miss the OSU game, but oh well, I heard that we won, so that’s good enough for me.

I also almost died in a battle royale that occurred on the mean streets of Columbus, but you probably don’t want to hear about that.

Anyway on to this week’s ramble…

Our world is in a crisis of mythic proportions. And sadly, my superhero team is still in the planning stages. In lue of that fact, I will tell you, my faithful readers, how to fight this problem head on. Luckily for you, you will not need any type of artillery to defeat this current threat, only self-control and determination.

With the recent “Black Jesus” outburst at the MTV VMAs, there has been a lot of talk about the said celebrity on TV and the internets. You all know who I am talking about. But I’m not just talking about that sunglasses mannequin.  It seems like every week another celebrity is getting attention for doing dumb shit, and reaping the benefits of free publicity.

Here are some rules of how to make a celebrity not famous any more.

1. Do not watch their TV show, read their book or blog, or listen to their music. Not even the older stuff. Not buying their stuff is not enough, you have to refuse to be influenced by their writing and music all together. Even if you borrow the CD or book off of a friend, the celebrity still wins.
2. If there is some other type of item that is endorsed by the celebrity, do not use that item. For instance, if you think George Foreman is a douchebag that deserves a cancer/AIDS hybrid disease. Do not let a George Foreman Grill into your home, and make up a reason like you believe that a George Foreman grill was invented by the Devil to get Americans to eat healthier. Never give the real reason.
3. DO NOT tell anyone to not watch the celebrity’s show, read their book, go to their blog, or buy their CD. When you make something forbidden, the forbidden object becomes more appealing. Why do you think Eve was tempted by an apple? Apples aren’t that tempting unless you’re me and the apple is a granny-smith. Mmmm, granny-smith apples.
4. Do not make up fake rumors about them. They probably won’t be believed, and if they are, then they get media attention and so does the celebrity. Also, it will be eventually realized to be a lie.
5. Keep that person out of your everyday conversations. If someone brings up that celebrity’s latest shenanigans, give that person a dirty look and change the topic.
6. Stop mentioning them in you twitter and facebook status updates. Along that line, avoid anything on facebook, twitter, and myspace (who am I kidding? No one uses myspace anymore). No bumperstickers, no commenting or liking pictures or statuses that mention that celebrity, and no quizzes with the celebrity’s name in the title.
7. Be strong. No matter how much you hate a certain celebrity, do not talk about them. That will only lead to a discussion about them and possible twitter and facebook status updates. This is bad.
8. Remember: for a celebrity even bad publicity is good publicity. They want to be talked about; that is how they get jobs.

And if you were wondering if I am going to follow these rules with a particular celebrity; yes I am. I have actually formed a list of celebrities whose fame I will attempt to destroy via lack of publicity. Here they are:

1. Kanye West ( I still cannot believe he did that to Tyler Swift’s vagina)
2. Glenn Beck
3. Larry the Cable Guy
4. Perez Hilton (whoever that is)
5. Bono
6. Sean Penn
7. Jimmy Fallon ( I should have done before he got his own TV show)
8. Tila Tequila
9. Flava Flav
10. Terrell Owens
11. The Octomom aka Nadya Suleman aka the walking uterus
12. Spencer Pratt
13. Heidi Montag
14. Rosie O’Donnell- this dude has been on TV long enough- I mean have you ever noticed that at times he sounds like a woman, and he plays female roles. What guy does that? That is stealing jobs from talented actresses, and I won’t stand for it.
15. Robin Williams
16. Amy Winehouse
17. Michael Bay
18. T. Pain (the black guy from the “I’m on a Boat” video)
19. Richard Simmons
20. Barbara Streisand
21. Kate Gosselin aka the walking uterus that bitches a lot

I will never talk about the celebrities listed above ever again. They are dead to me. Oh, and if you are wondering why I don’t have Britney Spears, Lindsay Lohan, Paris Hilton, or Nichole Ricci on this list, it’s because they haven’t been the public eye lately. For all I know, they might have matured. [Stifled laugh]

Alright, I’m done. I need to take a…

-Peace.

The City of Champions Stikes(out) Again.

Holy national pastime Batman!

How often can a single city say that every professional sports team that calls that city home has proven themselves to be the best in a single year? Well this year Pittsburg did it. We all know about the Steelers and the Superbowl, the Penguins and the Stanley Cup, and now the Pirates.

For all twelve of you who still find America’s pastime interesting, you are probably thinking Doug, the Pirates suck. They have not seen a winning season since 1992. That is exactly my point. The Pirates have scored under a 500 for the past 17 years, the longest losing streak in American baseball, and I wish to congratulate them on such an underrated accomplishment.

Let me explain. Other than the obvious fact that no team has sucked shark dick for so long, No team has had so many factors contributing to them sucking shark dick than the Pirates. I don’t care enough to go into them all, so check this link out (after your done reading my rant, of course)

http://sports.espn.go.com/mlb/columns/story?columnist=bryant_howard&id=4452642

Some people say “blame the owners,” others say “blame the Scouting Director,” and even others say “It be witchcraft I tells ya, WITCHCRAFT!!!!” But I say “hey bitches, maybe you are looking at this the wrong way,” and, “Why am I quoting myself right now?”

What everyone is failing to realize is that The Pirates management has made the team terrible ON PUPROSE. Think about it. It makes perfect sense. Why else would a team willingly trade away players that were just beginning to be good? Why else would they pick the least talented players for every draft pick? Why else would they stop recruiting from Latin America, whose baseball playing genes are obviously superior(Damn you sex crazed baseball-loving local women of Cancun!)

Here is their plan: in 1992, the owner and managers got together after the heartbreaking defeat to the Braves and came up with a new plan. What if they had a team so bad that they would beat the seasonal losing streak of every other team. This would of course take time, but they knew it would pay off. And I am proud to say that on Monday September 7, 2009, their dream was realized. They worked so hard at making the worst team in the country, and I think they deserve a round of applause. You have no idea how hard it is to suck for so long and to do it so fearlessly and without giving two shits about the consequences.  If that is not bravery mixed with genius, then I don’t know what is.

Not only that, but the previous owner was able to get the new managers and owner in on the idea back in 2007. He of course used the line “Losing builds character.Don’t you want you and your team to have character? ” That line should should be engraved in gold and put into the hall of fame for best quotes ever.

See that diamond down there, sweety? That is where the talent plays. We call them the opposing team.

But here is the clincher. Despite this team being so bad for the past 17 years, they still have a fan base. STILL! The blind loyalty of the Pirates fans is sad, humbling, amazing, hilarious, and mildly erotic. It says a lot about a fan if they are willing to buy the tickets of a terrible team. Even though the fan is probably more interested in beer, food, and what US President is going to be tackled by a giant mutant pierogi during this game. The fans of the Pirates are so faithful that they were even fine with the idea of the team getting a new stadium in 2001. Even in the movie “Angels in the Outfield” the Los Angeles Angles could not get anyone to come to watch their pathetic games, let alone get a new stadium. That is loyalty, my friends. And this is where The Pirates win. They  are the worst team in baseball, They are the laughing stock of the MLB and the sports world in general, yet they still have a loyal fan base. That makes them winners in my eyes. Now somebody give Bob Nutting a glove trophy covered in monkey shit and tell him it’s gold. He won’t know the difference, and maybe he will then decide work to make the team worthy of a mascot and a mutant pierogi race.

Peace be with you (and by “you” I mean “me”)

Awesomesquad Assemble 2: Rise of the K-Oh, Damn That’s A Fine Ass!

Can a honky get a motherfuckin WOOT?!  As you can tell by my previous exclamation, I am rather excited. I got my second tattoo this weekend and it turned out better than expected. I also got to spend time with my PA friends, which only happens once every couple of planetary revolutions. Basically, it was a party. Other than two of my friends missing (including my one best friend) all of my closest friends came together almost coincidentally to the house of a kid I’ve never talked to before. A couple of my friends were going, and they invited me along.

It was at said party that I realized how not fun I am. There was a beer pong tournament going. I did not play because I had to drive myself home, and I am responsible like that. Instead, I sat near the table and watched. After a while I began to think of how disgusting that game is. The ping pong balls were on the floor more often than in the cups, and at one point, a ball landed in a shoe. To “clean it off” you dip the ball into a cup of water that one has dunked the ball into countless times before.  As I watched, all I could think about was whether or not the players washed their hands. Worse yet, I thought all of this and still wanted to play.

my friends are partiers

Ok, enough about me and how I suck at life, but still miraculously still have friends, and onto what you really wanted to read: Updates from my last blog!

I’ve added three new members, and two of them are women. Goodbye sausage fest-Hello coed mixer!

The first is Ashley Caggiano and she is my Jane of all trades. Her mastery in Tai kwon do will make the group hard to beat when we combine it with the kickboxing skills of my brother and/or the gym owner. Also, (and this is going to sound sexist) she can cook and clean. If you are offended by that reason, continue reading before you write me angry comments. I say that she can cook and clean because I’ve seen her do both. I work with her, and she is pretty much the only person that cleans the Writer’s Studio. I’m not saying that she would be the maid; I’m saying that she would teach the group to not be slobs. And as for the cooking, she makes awesome cupcakes and baked goods in general. I know that After a hard day of fighting bad guys, and  possibly losing the big baddie that we were trying to capture, it would sure lift everyone’s spirits if someone quickly whipped up a batch of fudge brownies. She also gave me a bunch of good reasons in her comment on my last blog post. This brings me to the most important reason that I am hiring her to my team: Her balls. Not only did she have the tenacity to ask to join, but she also gave many good reasons of why she should be allowed in. I need that kind of incentive and determination on my team. To anyone else who wants to join, sorry but posting a comment to persuade me to join only works once.

The Second person is someone that Miss Caggiano suggested. I looked into his credentials, and I have decided that GMZ should definitely be my hacker. It takes a maverick renegade like GMZ to turn the world on its head. I am confident that he could hack into the Dutch Mafia’s computer system and  get the information on the choco-cannibi smuggling plans, and the schematics to the bomb that will blow up the Hershey factory.

The third addition to my group of crime fighters is my friend Emily Kohlberg, who will be the team psychologist. This position does effectively destroy one of Ashley’s arguments, but its worth it. Not only will Emily keep the peace, and the mental health of the team at a healthy “sane,” she can also question the people we capture alive with Derren. While Derren uses mind manipulation his own way, Emily can use the Hannibal Lector method (IE digging into the painful memories of our detainees past to extract information.) Granted, she may not be 100% suitable for hand to hand combat. I’m not saying she’s fat; I’m saying that we don’t want our resident psychologist to be killing people. She could totally kick some ass if she wanted though.

I also have an update on the debate you have anxiously forgotten all about: who will be the boxing instructor? On Friday as I was drinking with my brother, I spoke of the blog post and the debate, and he informed me that he was certified as a boxing coach a week or so ago. I also told him of the gym owner being able to punch a man in the stomach hard enough to make the man throw up, and he said that he will learn to do that. This puts my brother ahead in this competition I didn’t even know I was going to have. If the owner of my gym wants to be in my group he’s gonna need to step it up a notch.

And finally, our second villain is Kim Kardashian’s evil twin Kim Kardassian. She is a formidable opponent because her hypnotic ass can cause a zombie like state or even fighting between the males in the group. She could even be able to hypnotize the ladies, but it will be more difficult. It will be up to the women to save the (currently unnamed squad) from the evil clutches of a perfect badonkadonk.

Peace of shit

Awesomesquad assemble!

I had a good day today. I know that most of you who know me on a personal level are saying to yourself “Doug, a good day to you is a mediocre day with one good thing that happened.” Then, you plot to end my life with a roll of bubble wrap and a pet rock… Well yes, it was a pretty normal day except I got to listen to the White stripes song “Dead Leaves and the Dirty Ground,” and the Killers “When You Were Young.” It makes my day when I unexpectedly hear those songs. Also, I got to say a joke I had wanted to say for a long time. I forget which comedian I heard say it, but I have been waiting to say it for years. The conversation was between My boss “Zulu,” my coworker “The Hobbit” and me “Sexy Beast.” This is it.

Zulu- The owner is going to be in tomorrow morning.

The Hobbit- Good thing I won’t be in tomorrow morning.

Zulu-oh yea

The Hobbit-Well, I’ll be in here tomorrow to pick up my son’s birthday cake.

Zulu- Oh really, how old is he?

The Hobbit- He is going to be five

Sexy Beast- Oh, that’s the year that they kill their parents.

Zulu- Yea, I saw it in a movie once.

Sexy Beast- Me too! The one that was based on a true story?

Zulu- Yea!

My boss and I thought it was really funny, the Hobbit did not laugh. But oh well, fuck him. That joke was funny. I hate that dude anyway. He talks shit on everyone, so I’m pretty sure he talks about me behind my back. I have no proof that he does, but if someone talks about everyone else, you can only assume that the person talks about you. This is not my self-diagnosed paranoia talking; it is perfectly rational thinking. DON’T JUDGE ME!

Anyway, I digress…

The reason I called all of you here today (and by “call you” I mean “you find my blog and start reading)  is because I have come up with a brilliant idea. I have decided to put together an elite team of select individuals to join me to fight crime.  I have researched this for many moons now and I have figured out what members a team like this would require. I have not named the group yet, but here is my (uncompleted) list of positions, my choice and my reason.

1. Weapon technician- Everett Bradford- This video is the only explanation you need.
2. Mechanic/ vehicle builder- Jessie James- Other than being a total badass, and married to Sandra Bullock, I chose Mr. James mainly because I associate him with the Discovery Channel show “Monster Garage” where they would take a normal car, and make it into something insane and amazing. Some of their most memorable were: Ford Ambulance-Wheel Stander, PT Cruiser-wood chipper, Police car- donut shop, and the School bus- Pontoon boat
3. Criss Angel- I don’t have a “title” for him. My only reasoning for even having him in this group is because what he does has to be real magic. I have one condition for him, however. He is not allowed in this group if he insists on having that stupid emo haircut. That only makes him look like a tool, and I don’t allow tools in my club.
4. Gymnastic trainer- Damien Walters- this one also comes with a video, but it will definitely need some explaining. Not only does Damien make gymnastics look not gay (except for those two times), he also makes me kind of wish I was a gymnast. His agility and ability to scale buildings would be perfect to chase down our enemies, especially if we paired his abilities with Everett’s flame throwers.
5. Boxing instructor- Now I have two options for this person. Neither of these people are famous for their boxing ability, but I know both of them and I have seen their kick boxing abilities even if only on youtube. The first option is my older brother; the second is one of the owners of the gym that I work out at. Here are the pros and cons for each option:

By the way, sorry about this graph, WordPress was being incredibly retarded.

Bro pros	Bro cons
At one point (I’m not sure if he still is) he was ranked #3 in the world for his division in kick boxing He is my brother, so I can trust him He has a mouth on him- he can probably trash talk our enemies enough that they get too pissed off to fight properly. He could probably handle driving Jessie James’s vehicles. He would be willing to fight dirty He is fun to drink with	Sibling rivalry I would never think of my own brother betraying me, which makes him a perfect candidate for being a traitor. He can be a bit of a douche, but then again, so can I He would probably lose interest fairly quickly I doubt he has trained anyone in kickboxing We would have to fake our deaths to protect our families. That would effectively knock out 2/3 of the people that could carry on the family name.
Owner pros	Owner cons
He can punch someone in the stomach and make them throw up He is a personal trainer, so he can teach the rest of us how to fight I have no reason not to trust him He is smart- definitely smarter than my brother (no offence, bro) He is open to trying different things He has seen more of the world than my brother	The punch to the stomach thing only happened one time. He could probably do it again, but it cannot be classified as a skill yet. I don’t know him as well as my brother Similar as #2 in bro cons He and his wife are going to have a child. If my knowledge of action movie clichés serves me correctly, this means that he will definitely die. He can fight, but would he be willing to kill a man if it came to that I don’t know if he could handle driving one of Jessie James’s monster machines

6. Mentalist-Derren Brown- if you watched the Sci Fi channel (syfy is fucking gay. I refuse to watch that station until they apologize for the attempted murder of my language ) you may have heard of Derren. He had a short lived show called “Mind control with Derren Brown” basically he could hypnotize people and get them to believe whatever he wants. He’s like Criss Angel, except he can get prisoners to tell secrets without torture and he has an awesome British accent.

7. Rich person who funds everything-?????- he will need to buy the tools needed to build Everett’s weapons and Jessie’s vehicles, the abandoned warehouse that we will convert into our super-secret HQ, the gym equipment for the gymnastic area and the boxing area, and whatever magic cards, top hats, trick coins, etc. that Criss and Derren will need.

8. Genetic biologist-?????- someone willing to manipulate the teams genes to give them heightened reflexes, heightened senses, higher running speed, and more agility and stamina.

9. Medic- ?????- someone who can tend to our wounds. I can handle some of the minor stuff, but it would be necessary to have a professional in the team in case shit goes down.

10.  Hacker- ?????- someone who can break through the firewalls of our enemies and steal their information. Also (in extreme cases, or if we  want to use the prototypes of top secret aircrafts) our own government. Sometimes when fighting the world’s filth, you need to get a little dirty.

11.  Stealth expert/ covert ops- ?????- someone who knows how to do things without being seen. They will need to know how to use cloaking devices, and how to sneak up on our enemies.

I do not know my place in this team yet, which scares me because my only discernable talent is writing and that can’t help me fight crime. I don’t know if it’s a good thing or a bad thing if you make a team so completely and utterly awesome that you, the founder of said group, should be kicked out due to uselessness.

If you noticed, the people I have chosen are all real people (except for Jessie James who I assume is a heavily tattooed android sent from the future to steal Sandra Bullock away from the rest of us.) If you have any suggestions of a person who could work well in categories 7-11, or who will work better as the boxing instructor, suggest them. As long as the suggested people for 7-11 are competent, I will consider them. I am hoping to diversify it though, so far everyone in the group is a white male.  I do not want it to be a Caucasian sausage fest, so please take that into consideration as well.

Here are some of the positions that failed to make into my group

1.      The Eater- Takeru Kobayashi – really, the only reason for him being in the group was to eat any incrimidating documents if the government tried to break into our fortress. I decided that all of our paper would be made out of the pulp from oranges, and taste delicious, so that everyone would eat them if such a situation would arise.

2.      Ammunitions expert- ?????- thrown out because that is what the internet is for, and everyone in the group would be armed to the teeth in high tech weaponry, not just guns.

3.      Ballistics expert- ?????- ditto

4.      Aquatics trainer- Michael Phelps- really the only reason I thought he would be a good idea is because we could mutate him into more of a man/fish hybrid that what he already is.

5.      Priest- ?????- I doubt that any priest will be willing to shoot someone. I just wanted a man of the cloth on our side to make sure Yahweh would be cool with what we would be doing.

Oh, and most importantly, I forgot to tell you our first nemesis. It is Donald Trump’s hair.

yes, yes, all shall bow to my mighty folical glory!

Peace between the fleece with chicken grease.

The very best medicine

I wasn’t planning on writing about internet culture two blogs in a row, but something has come to my attention that I feel I must point out.

We as a society are using acronyms too much, more specifically: lol. We all know that “lol” means “laugh out loud,” but how often when we use that acronym are we actually laughing out loud? There are so many different synonyms for “laugh” that when we stick to one form, our language becomes as dry as a vagina made out of construction paper. Diversification of the English vernacular is a great thing, and I suggest we try it. Here are some synonyms for “laugh” brought to you by thesaurus.com:

1. break up
2. burst
3. Cachinnate
4. cackle
5. chortle
6. chuckle
7. convulsed
8. crack up
9. crow
10. fracture
11. giggle
12. guffaw
13. howl
14. roar
15. roll in the aisles
16. scream
17. shriek
18. Shit a brick
19. snicker
20. snort
21. split one’s sides
22. titter
23. whoop
24. be in stitches

Not only do we over use the word “laugh,” we overuse the entire phrase which became a cliché in 2001. many people use “lol” even when something is only worth a chortle or a snicker at best, like lolcatz. Then, there are the people on facebook or Twitter who use lol to signify that they are joking. But that could go horrible wrong. for example

Matt Fo’ Sho’ Diggle wrote: hey bro hows it hanging lol

Stevie-Bizzle Wizzle wrote: nuthin lol hows u lol

Matt Fo’ Sho’ Diggle wrote: just getting ready to go to a kickass party wanna come?

Stevie-Bizzle Wizzle wrote: No

Matt Fo’ Sho’ Diggle wrote:why?

Stevie-Bizzle Wizzle wrote: BECAUSE YOUR MOM IS A FLABBY OLD PILE OF USED CONDOMS, AND I WOULD RATHER SUCK OFF A HORSE WITH AIDS THAN HANG OUT WITH YOU!!! Lol, j/k. I’ve got a date

Matt Fo’ Sho’ Diggle wrote: FUCK YOU ASSHOLE!!!!

Stevie-Bizzle Wizzle wrote: what? I said lol

Matt Fo’ Sho’ Diggle and Stevie-Bizzle Wizzle are no longer friends

Comments:

Greg-greg-bo-beg-banana-fana-fo-feg-me-

my-mo-meg –Greg wrote:

lol queers

side note- in my head Matt Fo’ Sho’ Diggle and Stevie-Bizzle Wizzle are both white.

Sure, if something is so funny that “lol” no longer covers it, we have “lmao.” But still, there is such a vast array of stupidly funny and funnily stupid stuff on the internet that we need more that two acronyms. Here are my solutions.

1. Lois (laughing on the inside)
2. Lqtms (laughing quietly to myself-this was thought up by Demetri Martin, not me)
3. Gi (giggle insanely)
4. Sab (shitting a brick)
5. Cbilsh (crying because I am laughing so hard)
6. Ci (chuckling ironically)
7. Sf (snickering feverishly)
8. Llhlj (laughing like Heath Ledger’s “Joker”)
9. Lljnj (laughing like Jack Nicholson’s “Joker”)
10. Lotoswicotis (laughing on the outside while I’m crying on the inside)
11. Lmfao…gbc! (laughing my fat ass off…Good bye cellulite!)
12. Clae (convulsing like an epileptic)
13. Hwl (howling with laughter)
14. Claob-imw (cackle like an old bitch-I mean witch)
15. Hsismscaa! (Holy shit! I’ve split my sides, call an ambulance!)
16. Glcag (guffawing like Crabbe and Goyle)
17. Glafsg (giggling like a flirtatious school girl)
18. Roflyof (rolling on the floor like you’re on fire)

Feel free to use any of these, and if you have any more, please let me know.

Peace of pie

Doug

Blogs

I am a hypocrite. I need to say that right off the bat, just because you will say it to yourself at least once while you are reading this. Since this is my first time blogging I want you to be gentle (but seeing that this is a blog, I expect you will make my soul bleed.)

I am writing on blogging for my first topic for a couple of reasons:

1. To become a better writer. (that is why i write to begin with)
2. So that when I start really getting into blogging, I can look back at this post and be amazed at how much I have changed. I’ll probably laugh at how stupid I was too.
3. So that I can point out that I am a hypocrite so that there is no confusion about it.
4. And because sometimes, I just feel like standing on a soapbox and ranting to anyone within earshot about random crap.

Well, seeing as I’m on my soapbox right now and everyone who can read English and has internet access is within earshot, I guess I should start my rant.

The fact of the matter is that I hate blogs. I honestly do. And yes I do see the irony in this blog post. I know that I shouldn’t hate blogs, because many of my friends have blogs, and I still like them despite this major character flaw. In fact, one of the aforementioned friends actually suggested this site to me. Thanks Trashley!

One of the main reasons I dislike blogs is because of how everyone who writes one thinks their opinion is important to be shared with everyone. Whether it’s politics, music, or how Megan Fox is the hottest women alive, everyone has an opinion and they insist upon having strangers read it.

The internet has made it so easy for people to share their thoughts and ideas to the online community that they have forgotten that their opinions do not matter. I am not saying that everyone who writes a blog shouldn’t have their opinions heard, just the vast majority. The people who have actually researched (I.E. politicians, or the people who work in that field of study) what they are blathering on about should have their blogs red. Not Bill from accounting who only repeats the talking points that his friends spewed off only an hour ago.  There are over 6 billion people on this planet, and every one of them has an opinion. Why should someone be able to preach it to the rest of the world about what they think just because they believe that they have it all figured out. This includes me. Not only is this my first blog, but I have read very few. This should make every argument that I make invalid, but I continue to stand on my metaphorical soap box and preach to you, even as I begin to come up with rebuttals to each of my arguments. I would put them in this blog, but I feel that I will have done enough to make my view point irrelevant by the end that if I add more, this blog post will go from hypocritical to a full fledged paradox.

And besides, what is the definition of an opinion? An opinion is “the view somebody takes about an issue, especially when it is based solely on personal judgment” so sayeth Microsoft Word. Anymore, people are regarding their opinions as facts, and it makes me lose my faith in humanity. A personal opinion is one that cannot be proven or disproven, because it it based on how one person thinks.

It also annoys me how self important people who write blogs are. This is actually why it took me so long to actually start writing a blog. Why should anyone listen to me? I am not important enough for my rants to be posted to the internet. What the fuck do I know? How is my viewpoint any different (or any better for that matter) from dozens, or hundreds, or thousands of people who think like me? All I can think about as I am writing this is how I doubt any one will care. This seems futile to me. But I continue on, Goddamn it, because what I am saying needs to be said, even if the crowd of people has moved on from me and my soapbox and started listening to someone who actually believes that they are making a difference. I am like an internet homeless person. I may be right in some of my arguments, but my mental condition has caused many people to not trust what I am saying… Being white is a mental condition, right? That’s that the goblins told me.

Anyway, on to the comments. Now as I said, I haven’t read a lot of comments on blogs, but I have read enough to see that they can be just as pointless as the blog itself, if not more so. I think a video from college humor put it best. Here are some of the lines from their video “We didn’t start the flame war.”

1. First post!

Fucking gay

1. Second post!

Go away!

1. Stupid picture
2. Simpsons did it
3. South park did it too.
4. ROFL copter
5. Really stupid
6. I don’t know, I kinda like it.
7. I hate Cindy
8. I hate Mindy
9. I hate fags and jews

Eh, it is not as funny with out the video. Watch it here:

http://www.collegehumor.com/video:1907543

The comments would make sense if someone actually wrote constructive criticism in them, but usually they’re filled with mindless dribble. As if all the fluff wasn’t enough, there are the people who post links to whatever they are affiliated with, and the people who spout overly creative insults at the blogger, or their fellow commentator. I am not saying you should not disagree with the person who wrote the blog, I am just saying instead of insulting them, debate with them. Show that your point of view is equally valid.

I’m finished.  Fire at will.

Peace on the floor

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