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On my voter registration card is an acronym, it says ‘NPA.’ No Party Affiliation. There’s a reason I don’t support any political party, and that’s because it makes the most sense to me not to put my faith in the hands of complete idiots. Seriously, spend half a day watching house and senate meetings on CSPAN and you’ll see what I’m talking about. These are supposedly the best of the party, the winners, the people in charge of making laws to improve our collective lives. So why is it that the speaker from Tennessee or Alabama or one of those bible belt states is wasting the House’s time requesting that everyone stand up and sing ‘God Bless America’ and those that are opposed should be put on record as ‘hating America?’ Because he’s an idiot that’s why, and so is every single person that voted for him. Then some democrat from up north, I think New York gets up and starts singing it before whoever is in charge of this ship of fools stops this lame political stunt in it’s tracks.
These are the people responsible for passing bills and reforms folks, a room full of feeble old people who spend most of their time obfuscating every issue and delaying any progress to make some half-assed protests or to try and score some political points for their re-election campaign. That’s all it is really, these are career politicians. They have awesome health care (at taxpayer expense), their pockets are lined with so many backers and lobbyists, that to think that people in circumstances like that actually give a damn what happens to anyone else is almost laughable. That’s just rhetoric though.
It’s just humorous to me to see what these people do exactly. For example, just now I was watching this guy from Texas, one, John Carter, go on a speech in the House. This man, who looks like my grandfather, went on about the forefathers, and how they founded a ‘republic’ for blah blah blah morals blah blah blah. This went on for about three minutes. First, I don’t think the House needs a damn history lesson that serves as little more than an attempt to assert your party is right by simple virtue of the fact the forefathers founded a republic so republic-ans must be the chosen ones. Right, okay, whatever. Second, I’m not sure what this has to do with the purpose of the hearing, which apparently was to talk about the federal bailout money and where it went. I know why he said it, to fluff his point. To give whatever argument he’s about to present the presumption of correctness rather than actually making a point that’s significant enough to stick.
Click to continue reading “Right Wing, Left Wing Parasites.”
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Ten years ago, I was a hurt, lost, stupid, angry person. This was the first time that I began to write. It was on a blog site called opendiary.com. When I was that age, around 16-17 I was so angry. It was eating me up inside like a cancer. There were all those cliche’ feelings that one normally associates with being a teenager. The largest and most prominent feeling was that no one cared about or understood me. My family and I had nothing in common, and in being adopted, I discovered that in some way I felt like I didn’t belong. Still don’t. Likewise my school days were awkward for the same reasons, but in the group of misfits that hung around with they were loyal to me and they understood me, to a degree. I lost contact with a lot of people that I really got along with, time rolls on, you know. I turned to blogging because it was anonymous, I could say how I really felt to people and see what they really thought about me without the fear of being lied to or used or whatever that was what
The schools. My parents, my real parents. My life. How I looked. There were a lot of things that were wrong with young Chris. My adopted father left me. My mother made me live with my control freak grandparents, and this is where the story began for a lot of people. One thing that I have noticed about personal blogs is that most people speak in vague generalities about their lives, delving rarely into the specifics. It’s like how you would imagine a support group meeting would go. Everyone already knows why they are there, everyone already can infer the details based on subtext. The ones that didn’t do that were the ones I read. People who were there to talked about the specifics. People I could relate to.
People like Morgan (aka Dublin Sublime aka Lachlan), who became a lesbian stripper sometime between then and now. Nothing wrong with that, she seems happy about the whole thing. Fanboy wanted to be a journalist, he said it was to ‘give the weak a voice.’ I don’t know if he was successful in that endeavor. When I first posted my story, Monolithic Horizon, the first chapter, unedited, raw, sloppy, he read it. I always assumed that because it was so awful he avioded reading me from that point on. Probably wrong about that. There was old real life friends that between then and now have faded away. There was Serenity, no seriously that was her name, whom wrote about being so lost and confused that when out with friends she ended up in car wrecks and drinking binges. Sometimes I wonder what ever happened to her and if she’s alright. Belowblackstar, Jesus Chrysler, and Wire were all roommates. Blackstar became an egotist who hurt his friends with his selfish and egotistical behavior. On my last site I eventually had to rid myself of him. Jesus was a mysterious figure, he faded in and out again. I don’t remember much. Wire… Wire is a bastard. That’s all I’ll say on that matter lest I go off on a tangent. Doomed, doomed was an odd fellow from Australia, humorous and weird, but ultimately dropped off the radar.
Click to continue reading “The Times, Theys a’ Changin’ Sis”
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“I’ve got my sights set on you,
and I’m ready to aim.
I’ve got a heart that will never be tamed.
I knew you were something special when you spoke my name.
… and I can’t wait to see you again.”
This is a song by ‘Hannah Montana.’ Beyond the obviously contrived and terrible lyrics, I wonder if anyone has told Mrs. Cyrus… setting your sites at someone is aiming. Regardless, this is a good example on the type of dull garbage the music industry has been heaping on top of everyone’s heads for the past two decades, maybe even longer. Hannah/Milly here is just another hack who utterly lacks any substance in her music who they will parade around until the precise moment her record sales slip. Harsh, yes, but much like many singles artists people like her should go away and sink back into obscurity where they belong. There is an endless surge of new ‘artists,’ if that’s what you want to call them, who do nothing but continue the slow and voracious march towards further stupefying the younger generations and turning them into a population bent only on fucking and buying shit they don’t need with money they don’t have.
Now, in order to indoctrinate the youth into being nice, stupid, and self-centered consumers the record industry has unleashed it’s most insidious of inventions. Kidz Bop. Note the ‘z’ implying that children are too fucking stupid to spell words properly but also that they will enjoy pop songs with lyrics primarily consisting of highly sexually suggestive messages, selfishness, cliche’ love songs, and general stupidity. It’s bad enough having to listen to the Pussycat Dolls without having the lyrics sang by a bunch of little kids off-key. Actually, in retrospect, that might be an improvement over the regular singers, but only slightly.
It’s well known that pop songs are written by little trolls that work for the recording industry and primarily write whatever will appeal to the lowest common denominator to sell records. It’s just sometimes worthwhile to explore the lyrical content of these songs too see how low the lowest common denominator is. So I, being the brave soul that I am, decided to look up the lyrics at random to various songs appearing on the Kidz Bop CDs. A process I assure you, that was not only painful but mind-numbing. As you will soon find out, now lets see what awesome lyrics they are exposing children to as ‘kid-friendly.’
Click to continue reading “Manufactured Noise”
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When I was around eight years old I was laying in my mom’s bedroom since she had the largest and most comfortable bed in the house. We had just got home from seeing Ghostbusters 2, and I was getting sleepy. In my state of mind, as plain as day I could have swore I saw Slimer coming from my mom’s bathroom at me. I tried to scream but I could not. Pinned with terror I simply waited for the vision to go away, dreadfully fearful of a possible tentacle ravishing or even more so perhaps of a possible sliming afterward, and there was no guarantee that it would be the green kind of slime. Here’s the thing about that, I could have swore Slimer was really there. It was obviously my imagination/sleepy state but there are people, lots of people actually, who take things they see in a moment of say, sleep paralysis and believe it was real. Another good example of this was one night in my old apartment where I started falling asleep but woke up mentally but not physically, so that my body was lying prone due to the aforementioned sleep paralysis and I hallucinated that a ghostly woman was coming out my closest at me and making my body cold. When I finally managed to get my ex girlfriend to wake me by breathing loudly (it was the only way, I couldn’t yell and I couldn’t move) I discovered that the cold air being blown on me was the damn A/C vent was blowing right at me and my ex had rolled over and taken all the covers off me. One of the big things I’ve noticed on dealing with the majority of individuals is that people firmly, and often stubbornly believe things. Not because they need to, not because it makes sense, and certainly not because they’ve spent a great deal of time rationalizing why, but because, quite simply, they want to. When someone wants to believe something, you’re about as likely to convince them, even in the face of overwhelming evidence, that it doesn’t make sense to go on believing whatever it as, as you are to convince them to stop drawing breath. It’s practically a doomed enterprise.
You see, believing in things is wanted, because, well, in reality there’s no magic in life… unless you can find a certain wonderment or joy from simply meeting different people and learning new things. Otherwise, like I said, no magic. There’s no spirits walking around trying to wrong the bad things that they did or had happen to them in life. Psychics are just low-level con men that have convinced themselves that the bullshit they believe and sell to other people who believe is in any way something that is actually legitimate and not a series of loose-guesses, perception and deductions that they can wrap in flowery words and package to people. People who believe are sort of like a cult, because they all secretly doubt in some small way, and need to constantly get around people who believe and convince themselves that what they are saying makes a damn bit of sense. It’s all about the appeal of the fantastic, real con men know all about the fantastic and the amazing, that’s their bread and butter. How do you think famous con men like ‘Yellow Kid’ Wiel or Count Victor Lustig convinced people that they had machines that can duplicate money or that The French government has decided to sell the fucking Eiffel Tower? They both knew one thing, people want to believe. Those men they conned? They believed too, and look where believing in the fantastic got them.
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Once again, I have nothing good to say about anyone. This is because I was born with curly red hair and didn’t get enough hugs. Plus, I haven’t been laid in like, 6 months. Well I threw a dart at the list on my wall, and it fell comically to the floor, so I guess the target today is … everyone. That suits me just fine.
I give you, the Top 10 most annoying sorts of people. Note: While I understand that there are far more varieties of obnoxious, foul-smelling peons in the world, I had to keep this somewhat reasonably sized because we’re pressed for space until we find a way to deal with the tag monster problem. Apparently fire doesn’t get rid of everything.
10. Australians
G’die, Mite! Aussies managed to come in as the least annoying of the 10 that came to mind, because while nearly every Australian I’ve met is an easily angered, argumentative twatdangle, this happens to work in their favor as well; they like to pick fights, I like to pick fights. The only differences here are, I don’t live in a cat box and my accent is typically not the subject of ridicule. Australians sound like retarded British people, and the fact is, if you tell them this, they probably won’t laugh it off. They’ll just adjust their ‘wit’ accordingly, then call you what amounts to ‘stupid asshole’ anyway, only it will sound far more idiotic and is quite likely to simply cause laughter and requests of more funny Aussie slang. The sad thing is, if you look up Aussie slang, the primary Google result as of this writing is a page that remarks:
Well, when you think of Australia, chances are you think of Desert, Kangaroos and Paul Hogan. And when you think of the way we speak, you probably think of “g’day”, “mate”, and the phrase popularised by Paul Hogan, “Throw another shrimp on the barbie!”
It’s not all I think of. I also think of the huge flies that buzz around you constantly no matter where the fuck you are, the ungodly heat, and this one Jackie Chan movie that took place in Australia because American actors were too expensive to hire.
If all of this sounds a little ethnocentric, bear it in mind that I happen to think my own country is full of clueless, shallow fuckheads obsessed with war (in fact, Americans rank higher up in the list). At least Aussies don’t have that. They just like to call you names you have to look up when you get home.
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I always find it funny how the mild stuff people will get all worked up and pissed off, but the major stuff they don’t seem to much mind. At least not unless the major stuff actually inconveniences them in any way shape or form. Everyone’s all for a war until the price at the pump goes up. Still, that’s a little beside the point at the moment.
When I write, I find the most petty of comments will send people into a towering inferno of rage much quicker than, say, long and ponderous thoughts about the nature of humanity, god, and the state. I could talk about sociological generalities all day, which I do because I find them interesting, and because I think it’s the duty of all people capable of grasping these sorts of things to at least give them some thought or discuss them a little with the population at large in some way, shape or form. There’s another reason as well, which is a bit more perverse, and that is I hope my comments can spurn someone and get them to try and disprove my position. Not really a debate, a debate is boring, more of a brief flash of anger at, say, being confronted with a perceived truth in such a relatively callous manner. I like to get people, especially people I deem as stupid, angry. If I can’t get someone to think a little at least if I piss them off I feel I’m doing my job. I don’t really care so much of the nature of the response I get so much as the response itself. Anger at least shows the person is thinking about what I said, perhaps not in the way I may have hoped, but hell… I’ll take what I can get. Impotent rage is so very amusing to me. Yet, and I must admit this, I do not get the types of replies I hope from people most of the time.
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If there’s one thing people are good at, it’s irritating the shit out of me. Your talent in this field simply knows no bounds, and one of the key ways in which you attain such heights of annoyance is through popular trends. This is hardly limited to the movie of the Summer, an overrated teen vampire romance fiction series, or gang signs and poser bullshit. I’ve compiled a list of some of the things you need to stop doing if you want to get back on my good side.
Baby Tattoos
We’ll begin with a relatively new trend. Though I have my qualms about children and how many more we actually need on this planet when the apocalypse will surely be upon us soon enough, I still have to respect that there are parents out there who are proud of their kids. To show their pride, most of these normal, well-adjusted people will display photos on their walls or their wallets, talk about their kids with other like-minded individuals, etc., but I think someone should have drawn a line in the sand and said anyone who steps behind this point is officially batshit insane. This would have been the point that some men and women looked awkwardly at each other and then at that tempting boundary and decided that it was too much pressure to refrain from being an idiot. Actually, this did happen… just not literally. The results were something like this:
If you think this is cute, I have some advice for you: Leave this site and don’t come back.
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There’s nothing more obnoxious to me than a person who simply pretends to be something they are not in order to impress people. This a recurring theme in a lot of my thought processes and fairly standard line of reasoning for how I choose certain enemies of mine. The thing about people putting up fronts, is that, well, you can only do it for so long and the false image only works on those that are culpable. Essentially you can’t bullshit a bullshitter, they know what you are doing when you try. What differs is most people’s intentions. Sometimes fronts can be useful tools in order to help you get information from those more willing to share with people they perceive to be of a like-mind and other times it is useful to get people to attack what you show them and not what you are.
The reason to put up a front is to make people think what you would like them to think. This can be for many reasons, but more than likely these are selfish ones. The kind I’m referring to at the moment and for the purposes of this entry are reasons of ego.
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As mentioned by me previously this site is actually a new link on the chain of sites I’ve been on. So what compelled me to start this? Well possibly to wash the taste of failure out of my mouth from my last online venture. Please forgive me for being purposefully vague about the next few things I describe. The idea of anyone from my last crash-course in being sociable coming along is still legit and if I could avioud being caught having to argue about the same shit from back then for the billionth time that’d be great.
Click to continue reading “The Verbal Samurai”
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