Filed under: my life | Tags: america, cody, extreme, idiot, love, stupid, the dude, tinsley, write
People of earth, how ya doin’? What is going on up in this bitchin’ blog? Raise the roof and lower your firewall, I am fucking here to party it up with a blog post! NOW THAT’S FUCKIN’ EXTREME! Welcome back to the ever-occurring and always annoying enigma that is my life and existence. Alright, so it isn’t always annoying, but who wants to read about happy fun times? I don’t, and this is a rather large contributor to the normally bleak and angry outlook of my posts. That and the fact that I have been dealing with the issues of my pathetic depression. In any case, I have returned from the grave of non-writing to shock and awe all of you with the ever lowering bar which symbolizes my faith in humanity, other than myself, and a few others close to me.
Don’t you just hate those douche bags? Always looking for something extreme, so they go jump of a cliff. Does this register as fucking retarded to anybody else? Not the whole idea of jumping off of a cliff, but how loud-mouthed and pushy these fucks are. We get it, you enjoy near death experiences, DC shoes, and Monster energy drinks. Do me a favor and piss off. I like basically the same things. I mean, almost dying in Halo, DC comics, and the Stay-Puft Marshmallow Monster are basically the same things, but you don’t see me yelling about how EXTREME I’ve taken it. Come down off your caffeine high and use your head for a fucking change. Go out a get a job, like I haven’t done. Geeze, bunch of fucking bums you ask me.
In other news, in the highly likely event of your not knowing, and the even higher chance of you not caring, I have had an ongoing somewhat feud with my counter-part and puppet master. I say somewhat because he admitted defeat, albeit sarcastically, and because I owned his ass from the starting gun. Be that as it may, I think that the tension between us has, for the most part, subsided. All that really needed to happen was for us to tell each other to fuck off, except by doing it via masking that with a bunch of opinions on love. Granted, that is what the dysfunction was over, but in the end all that needed to be said was. In hindsight, I enjoyed every damn bit of it, and would not have done things any other way. However, I see the argument as over, and am glad that it is. It is much more difficult to argue with somebody who argues back, as opposed to all of the rest of you silent readers, merely smirking while you read. You tell yourself how ridiculous I am, yet make no attempts to counter me. I condemn you all to a life sentence of learning. Congratulations, you’re here.
Now, on to the real reason for my post, as the first 475 words were merely filler. I know, you were probably about to tear your eyes out from the shining glory of my words, but it somehow gets better. As I stated in my title, people are fucking stupid. I have also said many, many times before that I hate people, and this example here gives me yet another reason to do just that. I am sorry, but I refuse to just let things like this go unsaid and unbitched about. It pisses me off to know that people I consider my friends act and think so foolishly, so I feel it my duty to let everybody know what ignorant fucks people of this nature are.
We live is a country that is based upon freedom of…well damn near anything within reason. That is, of course, as long as you conform to our society. As ridiculous as that sounds, it is the way many people think, perhaps subconsciously, today. I was sitting in class today when the teacher asked how many people thought that only English should be spoken in the States. I was astounded at the number of hands. I just do not comprehend such…fucking idiots. Where does such ignorance stem from? For a moment I forgot we were in southeast Kansas. As soon as I remembered that detail, it all made sense, regionally speaking. It’s not like when we came here, the Indians made us learn their language. Quite the contrary, we fucked them up the ass and stole their land, THEN made them learn our language. It pisses me off to know that we can be so…intolerant to the point of racist, for no apparent reason other than just to have something to hate. If you really need to hate something, put it to good use. For fuck’s sake, why not hate racism? Why not hate world hunger? No. Instead, we hate Mexicans because they work. We hate blacks because they wanted equal rights. We hate Middle Easterners because they have oil as a resource. We hate Muslims because they aren’t Christian. And we hate the French because they are cocky, which, according to the job description, is to be our task exclusively. To all of you pricks who think we should only speak one language, do me a favor. Suck the entity that is my left testicle, and slightly caress the right. Why don’t you please the rest of us and all gather on an island, form a utopia, and drink cyanide Flavor-Aid. It’s an AMERICAN product, so you’ll like that. That is the kind of sense you make to me, cultish. You’re welcome.
Ah, I enjoyed that. I hate people, very much. Anyways, in closing, I have recently wrote a little work of my own outside of the blog. It isn’t good, nor is it available for reading. I have left it on my desktop as a personal reminder to me about how idiotic it is to leave something unsaid, which is why I post as outwardly as I do. Somebody smart once told me of how compelled they are to express their utmost feelings, because you never know when you’ll lose the chance. Shame I learned that shit too late. Oh well. Life sucks, wear a hat.
That does it for me. It is past midnight and I’ve got class tomorrow at 9. Shit a brick, I’m going to be drowsy. Until next time America. Take it easy.
The Dude
P.S. I still love you.
Filed under: my life | Tags: blog, cody tinsley, dude, love, me, poem, puppet
*Note: All views and opinions expressed here previously and in the future are actually the ideas of somebody else controlling me and making me dance. I am just typing what I am told, for the master must be entertained, and I must obey the master like a good dancing monkey.
Excuse me, what? Sorry readers, I must have blacked out for a while there. I had a bad dream that all this was me just trying to impress somebody, rather than to…write. Anyways, welcome back. How are you? Shh, I care not about your feelings or experiences, for I wish to only speak of me, myself, and my out of control sarcastic ego. HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA! But let us cut the crap, and get down to the real nitty-gritty. In all of my previous posts I have been too busy trying to impress and please somebody (by contradicting them, although to me that seems rather paradoxical) that I have forgot to update you faithful readers on the most important subject, me. So, instead of trying to show off my arguing prowess, I think I will give you the low down on what has been going on. If I could just break away from my need to show off.
I recently acquired a laptop, or perhaps a cheap imitation of said device. Don’t think me ungrateful, because I enjoy having Internet to myself in my room. However, this…contraption looks like it was made in the early 1900s and been given periodic updates. Which leads me to my next point. I’m 99% sure that the software is bootlegged. Again, not ungrateful, but it just shows the age of it. That and the fact that it needs an ethernet card to hook up to a wired connection. Lucky for me I have an awesome router and adapter. I just say that my computer is made for function, not fashion. Not at all fashion. I’m sure Wilma Flintstone enjoyed hers as much as I am enjoying mine. Oh, well, it was free, and it gets me online. I’m not going to bitch too damn much. Moving right along.
I’m now a college student. I’m your typical college guy douche bag, sans the douche bag part. I’m studying to become a high school history teacher. I received a full ride scholarship to Fort Scott Community College. Believe it or not, it was a Dance/Cheer scholarship. Let me finish, I’m the mascot. So, all I have to do is dance around (like the good monkey I am, only as a greyhound) for a couple of games, and I go to school for free in return. Not too shabby of a deal, and it beat the alternative. That happened to be paying about half out of pocket. Thanks, I’ll don the costume and prance around instead.
As for my life after love, it continues, as it has for about 2.5 months. Each day it seems to get a little easier to cope, yet each night I pray that somehow we could be together again. As the chances of that seem incredibly bleak, I’ll just stick to writing about it. Quite a bitch of a cycle, and surprisingly unproductive in making people feel better. I suppose I am kind of browsing the campus to scout out any potentials, but for the most part I have been quite disappointed. Obviously it doesn’t help that I talk to nobody, but that is besides the point, because I say it is. Anyway, eventually something will fall into my lap, one way or the other. Always does.
Only 650 words so far? Oh no, I am skimping a bit. I suppose I could post that poem, but it really is in need of some work. Incredibly simple and trite, but I actually mean every word of it. Oh well, I suppose I’ll give to you raw and unhindered by conscious editing. Here you go, and I warn those with lactose intolerance of the high amount of cheese. Not intentional, but some may take it this way…
People confuse me, I can’t understand.
They claim to love, but I only see pretend.
I’m inept to connect, to reopen.
My heart, it reels, forever broken.
Love, no longer do I comprehend.
My bridge of love, too burned to mend.
It feels like browsing through some fable.
And finding the end? I wander, unable.
So, in my shame, I try and write,
About my cause, my usless fight.
Every day my heart screams.
And every night my mind it dreams.
And the days roll on, like some drum beat.
The cycle I’ve come to know, I’ll forever repeat.
The reason is simple, I’ve never let go.
Yet the tears I hide, and no pain I’ll show.
Because people enjoy seeing hurt,
Somebody down or a tear-stained shirt.
And I realize now, as my stomach churns.
My mind, it fades, and my heart yearns.
That we as a couple were not to be.
I with you, and you with me.
And though my heart longs to fill with hate.
I refuse to allow it. I’ll always love you…
Kait
Ugh, as much as I despise that stupid fucking emotion and think it useless, I can’t deny that it remains, and I also can’t deny that I would like nothing more than to tell her so in person and everything fall into place so that I could be happy once more with her. Oh well, the past is the past and the present is always bigger on Christmas, except when you get socks. Then you have good reason to be pissed, unless you were previously barefooted.
Hm, an unusually odd post, in comparison to my norm of ranting. I imagine my readers will find this refreshingly boring, if you can somehow attain such a status. Also, I hearby proclaim me a monkey servant to the awesome mind of my master…Wait, sorry, that was the puppet strings being pulled. What I meant to say was FUCK YOU, I say what I say, and I’m not out to gain prestige or approval from anybody. If I were, then I don’t think I would be doing too well in the eyes of the church, or the religion in general. Of course, I was just typing that to impress you anyway, so I can’t really count that as me being my true self in my writing. Apparently none of what I write is truly me, because I’m always out to impress people. If anybody has any problems with my blog, please, I want to refer you to ALLEN’S BLOG OF DOOM!….He made me do it. I strive to gain his approval. Do you like me yet? Is this post good? HAHAHAHA!
That does it for me. Until next time America, enjoy my sub-par poetry. Take it easy.
The Dude
P.S. I still love you.
Filed under: my life | Tags: bull, christian, cody, dude, god, idiot, love, me, ridiculous, stupid, tinsley
Odd concept, this inconvenient thing we call static. It can lead to so many fuck ups. A misinterpreted message in the battle field because of it and your chance of death sky-rockets higher than a guy with an intelligent thought near Rush Limbaugh. (He hates smart people, envy I think.) Static, not taken literally, also can cause many problems in a relationship. Two people not connecting, some unknown interference keeping them from a life together. Static, it’s a bitch. Readers, welcome back to my lair. Hasn’t changed much, which is probably due to the fact that I haven’t blogged. Also, I’m not too big a fan of change. Well, I suppose I should get on with this. I know you started to get a hard on once you saw I had a new post. Heck, even I got a little chubby writing this, but not really. Welp, here you go. Enjoy, I don’t know when the next one is written anymore.
As I was saying, my problem, if you wish to call it that. I am indifferent, personally. I feel myself starting to slip away from…everything. Nothing really holds significance with me anymore. Days are just a way to lead in to the night, and vice versa. People, as before, are still fucking annoying. But, even the ones I actually enjoy seem to be fading into the distance. Obviously, they themselves are still there. It is my connection to them that is apparently diminishing. I can’t seem to relate to damn near anything or anybody at all. Everything is just so…not important. It’s like, yeah, all this stuff is happening, but who cares anymore? There is something, some kind of block keeping me from connecting with reality and from keeping me in tune with the world around me. Static, if you will. It supports my theory. Life is a joke. Love is a joke. Reality? It is something called isolation. Everybody fights it, but nobody wins. Deep down somewhere, whether you admit it or not, a part of you feels alone.
It’s affecting my writing too. I’ve noticed it. I have attempted plenty of posts before this one, but they were all shit, same as this one will be. This angers me, because writing is one of the only things that helped me stay somewhat in touch with the people I care for. I also had a solid ideal for a poem, but I couldn’t seem to get it down without fucking it up terribly. I get frustrated when my mind thinks more complicated than my ability allows me to write. Believe it or not, when it comes to the few things I care about, I am a perfectionist. Grammar and conventions, I really hate it when people make mistakes in that category. Call me OCD, I call you illiterate. Either way, you’re an idiot. Point is, I am extremely annoyed when I can’t express my feelings through my writing. At this particular point, I am currently tearing out my hair while having a midget do the same to my short and curly’s south of the border. I’m quite lazy.
Why can’t I write anymore? Before, it came quite easily. I was angry, upset, sad, depressed, and feeling a tad bit cheated to be quite honest. Now, I don’t know what to feel. I mean, love is pointless, heartbreak fucking blows, happiness is momentary, and anger only causes hypertension. I am completely cut off from all of my emotions, and that is my static. People, generally speaking, are emotional. When you fake just about every single one, you tend not to connect too well. I see people in love today and I think, “Naivety is so dangerous, just wait and see.” I look at the heartbroken and say, “Told ya so, just one sentence ago, didn’t I?” I see angry people and I think, “What is the point? Chances are there will be something bigger to get even more pissed about later on, so why waste your breath now?” I see all the happy people and I think, “You’re all headed for a downfall, that is the way these things work.” But, I carry on, a laugh here, a tear there, in order to fulfill my quota of emotions for the week, lest people call me insensitive. And that is why my writing has become so infrequent. My lack of fire, of intensity, of emotion. Granted, I still retain my very correct opinions, but in all fairness, the people that disagree with me are dumb fucks. They refuse to listen, so what is the point of yelling, or virtually doing so? Oh yes, I remember, because not many other people I know have the balls to speak out against the ignorance of the idiots that roam our country. Take, for example, my next education segment. Come on, you didn’t think I was THAT detached, did you?
I personally believe I am going to catch a bunch of flak for this, mainly because it kind of goes against my whole religion thing I have going on. Oh, well, I do not answer to the bitching of people. So, if it offends You, I ask Your forgiveness in advance God. Also, if it offends anybody else, I don’t capitalize your pronouns in the midst of sentences, so fucking blow me. Here we go, enjoy my words, because they are truthful, which is a rare commodity these days.
Alright, I was in church the other day, and they were discussing their mission trip to Wisconsin, I believe. I’m down with that, no problems there. They started talking about all the good they did by helping fix the buildings and cleaning up all that stuff. Cool beans, good work, gold stars for you guys, and no sarcasm intended. Really, it is quite important to spread the Word. Then they mentioned some girl was saved, and this made me happy as well. For those of you unfamiliar with the Christian faith, ’saved’ is when you are no longer considered an idiot to those following the same faith as you. Now, I was all good until they started talking about how this girl came to know Christ. Apparently she had a really shitty past, and during the message where everybody started sharing, she got all emotional, as I mentioned people do occasionally. This is when, as they were helping her out, they threw in that whole…So, do you know about Jesus Christ? Hold it right fucking there. To me, it seems like they just took advantage of an emotionally unstable moment to plug Almighty God. When I accepted Christ, although I was only five, I knew what I was doing. I was also clear-headed and able to think for myself, at least when it came to the eternal being of my soul. (I know, it sounds a bit rash, but fuck you all anyhow.) To just sneak something in there that big when somebody is so distraught just seems….tacky. My thinking is that God doesn’t really need a plug when it is opportune. He needs a plug when people are talking, clear minded, and able to argue against Him. People need time to debate, people need to argue. It is the only way anybody can ever really see that their stance is not right. That way, when they see they are wrong, it will be their own decision as well as the work of God and His children, not somebody pulling all this cloak and dagger bullshit. I know how anti-religion it sounds, but don’t get the wrong picture. I’m glad she accepted God, but I fear it happened in the wrong way. When somebody is emotionally hurt, the last thing they need is a religion plug. They need someone to talk to and understand, not pretend to understand and then toss in a Savior, a Happy Meal, and a reach-around. I think it is wrong, and I wait for anybody to prove me otherwise. Still waiting. Exactly. You’re welcome.
Not too shabby for a shitty post. I’m sure I will eventually get that poem posted, but right now it needs some hardcore editing. This has helped muchos is clearing my head, which is good for you all because that is the first step to even more posts. I do believe I am done for this evening. Until next time America. Take it easy.
The Dude
P.S. I still love you.
Filed under: my life | Tags: dude, girlfriend, glenn beck, love, me, politics, stupid
Hmm, interesting thought, don’t you agree? You know, I would almost take that seriously, if the author wasn’t a complete fucking idiot himself. Oh yes, I just said that. Nirvana fans can suck my Pearl Jam loving cock and swallow my Stone Temple Pilots semen. You know my stance on giving credit to idiots, and suicide falls in the idiot move category, as I have posted before. (Go read that over again. I just did, and I laughed my ass off.) Hello readers, in case you haven’t heard of any of the three bands previously mentioned, go illegally download them now. They are worth the risk, really. Welcome back. After my last post, I am not really sure where to go. After doing a little Q&A session/education, it is hard to go back to just blogging outright. Well, I will do my best, which is still pretty fucking good.
What else can I say anymore? Everybody that reads this just expects me to bitch and moan and complain about my relationship status. To be honest, that is what I expect. Problem is, I am all said out. It’s all the same nowadays. I asked her out, she said yes. I spent the next thirteen months doing my damndest to make sure everything went smoothly, and for the most part I feel that it did. I fell in love. I was stupid, in that I thought love was forever, or at least true love anyways, and I felt that perhaps I had the latter. I figured since I loved her enough, everything would work out willy-nilly. I was in bliss. It ended, and now I am fucking miserable. I don’t see how I could have done anything different to change the outcome, and that pisses me off even more. Obviously nothing I write is going to change her mind. And even though I have known this from the beginning, I have to say I did my damndest to speak my mind. A shit ton of good that did me. All I have to show for it is a bunch of fucking assholes know all my shit now. Great. That really fucking blows, because I will now become known and revered as that schmuck who only writes his sappy fucking memoirs and give his extremely slanted opinion with a personality type that can only be deemed as fucking crazy……Oh shit, I’ve become Glenn Beck. And that leads me to my ranting. Pretty fucking nifty, wasn’t it? Ah, my circular writings, they do wonders for the quality of the post. How awesome is it that I am able to lead my misery into a rant about a fucking asshole like that? I love myself, and you love me too.
What in the name of the virgin Mary’s tits gave people the fucked up idea that a guy like him should have such a large following? He is the biggest douche bag in the history of ever. He doesn’t even make coherent thoughts anymore, not that he ever did in the first place. I fucking hate that people give this guy such a hardcore fan base. His ideas shouldn’t even be considered credible, let alone broadcast on television. I am a close-minded guy, but fuck me, at least I have a bit of a clue as to what I am saying. It’s so bad, I would give just about anybody in the Fox News industry more credit than him. Fuck, he even makes Rush Limbaugh…wait, nevermind. Now, I’m not saying that every Conservative is idiotic, just the ones that think this guy makes sense. Please, for the sake of every mind in the American public, somebody do the world a favor and pull the plug on this one. Of course, that would mean less material for Colbert and Jon Stewart, but I think it is a tradeoff I am willing to make. To all of the followers of this moron, fuck you. You are a bigger idiot than he is for buying into his shit, and that is saying something. Do yourself a favor, read my blog and educate yourself. I regret to inform you that me with my no study of political science knows more about politics than that stupid fuck, and that is sad. You’re welcome.
Ahh, it feels good to put people who don’t read this in their place. Somehow, it gives me a sense of belonging. Perhaps this is what I was born to do, bitch. How great would that be if I could get paid to write a column just fucking complaining on things? Fuck, I would use my blog for as many writings as I had posts. I mean, look at it. Who complains more than I do? Wow, what a glorious idea that. Sadly, I don’t think any paper or magazine would publish my ideas as is, and I really am not willing to go back and edit out all of the supposed bad language because of the stupid fucks who can’t stand the sight of such dirty words. Ironically, those are the people that should hear these things the most. And the stupid keep getting stupider. Oh well, moving on.
Perhaps it’s just because I am bitter, but I have really had an increase in hatred of people recently. Fucking everything and everybody I see happy, I just want to fuck it up. No reason, other than to see some fucked up shit. Anybody that comes around, I just feel like telling them to piss off. I hate people. I hate seeing happiness, it disgusts me. These two things, people and happiness, they are of no use to me. Of course, I have my exceptions, but even that seems to be dwindling. Doesn’t help when you lose the one you held in highest regard, the one thing that made you truly happy. Ugh, there I go again with my fucking pity. I make myself sick. Stop it please, for the sake of my brain and everybody else’s eyes. Either way, I just wish people would go away for about a weekish. Nobody fucking bothering me, nobody annoying me, nobody fucking up my perfect world that no longer exists. I suppose this feeling will pass, given that I have nobody or nothing in particular to be angry about. Perhaps if I could target something specific, I could really give it a big blast and be done with it. Until then, I will probably come of as edgy and a bit pissed off, more than likely because I am. So, to the people planning to call me a prick, blow me. I probably fucking hate you anyways, so my prickishness would be genuine towards you, not just a mood. You’re welcome, and thanks for the blowjob in advance. I’m looking forward to it.
That just about does it for me. Bit of a here and there post. Just meandered my way into and out of things. Oh well, least I made it long enough for my standards. Until next time America. Take it easy.
The Dude
P.S. I will always love you.
Filed under: my life | Tags: america, awesome, challenge, dude, ex, great, love, me, shit
God created me, and He saw that I was great, which is better than good, according to my set of weights and measures. As I am great and man is only good, I now realize why you all adore me. That, and the fact that my highly potent testosterone glands makes every chick within a half mile radius wetter than a water slide in April. Hello, welcome back, and you’re welcome in advance. This post shall be a response to an argument left by a highly revered scholar. Do you see what happens when you actually respond to my awesome readings? I write a whole post in your honor. I know, I really am such a gentleman. Now, allow me to show you all an equally awesome rebuttle, which is a funny word.
Let me first state that I in no way discredit the fact that you are in love. You don’t make much of an effort to hide it, and in all fairness you have no reason to do otherwise. Also, let me say that, as I consider you family, I wish nothing but the utmost happiness in your relationship. That being said, it’s on bitch.
You’re happy? Good, great even. Maybe not great, that classification is reserved for me level things only. Why are you happy? You have a reason to live now? Awesome, enjoy that. You deserve every bit of happiness you get, you worked hard and earned it.
Now, it’s gone. Every bit of it, no more. Your reason to live, gone. Your happiness, gone. All of that work, what for? It was fun times, but what do you have to show for it now? Dick, other than memories. Memories really don’t make things easier after you’ve lost the one you love. Do you see? Just because you had a great time with her doesn’t necessarily mean that the happiness still resides after she’s gone. Good experiences during a relationship do not transfer to comfort and acceptance after a break up. You’re wrong. Life is just a big process. Work, but not really, talking, and jerking off. That is it. You have your moments of happiness, no disputing that, but in the big picture they really mean next to nothing, if that. Bleak outlook? Sure, but at least not as much can fuck you over.
Did I think love was pointless when I was dating her? Nope, sure didn’t. I was stupid, even though in the back of my mind I knew it would eventually backfire. I thought if perhaps I just loved her enough everything would work out in the end. Do you know what happened? Of course you do, no need to insult your intelligence. Did I think love was cruel? You bet your ass I did. Do you not think that maybe I had learned a little bit about the way love works by observing the ones around me? Look at the ex ex, it tore her up. Look at my parents, it tore a whole family up. Love isn’t cruel? You’re bullshitting yourself man.
Do I still love her like I did when we were dating? Of course, but that doesn’t mean it translates into anything. Yay, I feel something. Honestly, I would rather feel nothing at all than feel as miserable as I have. It is better to have loved and lost than to have never loved at all, right? Bullshit, fuck you, and piss on your grave. That is a fucking lie. You say love is the strongest emotion? I beg to differ. Lost love is the strongest emotion, hands down. And I would much rather have experienced neither than to have experienced both.
Oh, before I forget, please don’t apologize for telling me I was dealt a shitty hand. It’s a legitimate argument and needs no saying sorry. It’s cool, not a big deal. No offense taken. However, let me point out that I stated at least one other scenario above, just saying. Granted, it was directly related to me, but I say it still counts. Anyways, moving on with this lesson.
Am I blaming love for making me happy? Yes, yes I am. Happiness is overrated, and momentary at best. Yeah, thirteen months is a hell of a moment, but compared to the average life span? Meh. I am pretty confident that if I hadn’t been dating her those thirteen months, it would have been significantly worse, but I think I would have made it. Now I feel like I don’t see how to make it without her. Is that cliche? Oh well, it is what it is. If it hadn’t been for that stupid fucking emotion, I wouldn’t have had anything to be happy about, and that would have been just fucking great. Do you know why? Because I wouldn’t have had any reason to fall on my fucking face harder than anytime before. If I hadn’t fallen in love, then the break up would have meant absolutely nothing. It would have just been a matter of finding another chick. But no, instead I get all hung up on my emotions and dwelling on my previous happiness and wondering what in the hell happened for me to lose somebody so awesome. Why? Because I fucking love her. No love, no hurt. It really is that simple.
Did loving somebody change me? Yes. I won’t disagree with you. Ok, now what is the point in me changing? I didn’t associate with anybody different after the change, and I could hazard a guess and say most people still enjoyed my awesomeness before. Was I a bit more horny before? Sure as shit, but you and I both know I wouldn’t have done anything stupid, same as I know you wouldn’t have. Who cares if I changed at all? Doesn’t mean dick now. Yipee for me, I’m a better person. La dee da. Who cares? What do I need to be a better person for? Who the hell do I have to impress? Nobody then, nobody now. Love also made me angry, sad, depressed, and bitter, although the latter for which I am grateful. What it didn’t change, however, was the end result.
Like I said before, you can love somebody with every fiber of your being, with every fucking thing you have. Doesn’t matter in the end. What happens, happens. Odds are you’re going to be on the shitty side of the end, so what is the point of even loving to begin with? There is no point, unless of course you enjoy heartbreak. Then I would strongly reccommend it.
Ladies and gentlemen of the jury, I would now like to present my closing arguments. As I have said many times before, love is bullshit. It is a hell of a ride when you’re in it, but the admission price is way too fucking steep. Take it from a fella who has been on every side of the whole ordeal, me. I have seen it from every angle. The heart breaker, the silent observer, the guy deeply in love, and the one on the receiving end of heartbreak who now blogs about it repeatedly, awesomely, and more than likely annoyingly. Either way, I have a pretty decent resume. So, to all of you contemplating the idea of love, perk your ears up now. Fuck it, go bowling instead. It is better to go crush some pins with a ball than to feel like your balls have been crushed. You’re welcome.
How about that? Pretty fucking good, ahem, great I mean. I really do encourage anybody else to challenge me. Gives me something to write about, and I know you all love my writing so much. Welp, that just about does it for me on this evening. Like I said before, I wish you nothing but the utmost of joy in your relationship. You are like a brother to me, and I don’t want to see anything shitty happen, I swear to me. I am sure you will enjoy reading this, but not quite as much as I enjoyed writing this, for it was glorious.
As I said, that does it for me. Again, I issue an open invitation for a challenge. Until next time America. Take it easy.
The Dude
P.S. I still love you.
Well, not exactly dynamite, but we shall get to that later on in the post. Readers, how are you fairing without my writings to guide you? I find it hard to believe the world has kept it’s mask of sanity on since I have been gone for a bit. Well, not much has changed, and I will write about it. You will read it, you will love it, and you will adore me, because I am great. Actually, I do have a topic I wish to bitch about, but again, later on. For now I will stick to the poor, pitiful subject that is my own life.
Oh yes, I said pitiful. Believe it or not, there is a reason. The same annoying, stupid fucking reason, but a reason all the same. It’s like, what the hell? I have tried giving it all to God, but He just keeps giving it right back. Understandable, I wouldn’t want to deal with my shit either. It’s just frustrating. Everybody I know just wants to see me get over it, her, and the whole situation. It’s a sound stance to take, as I realize that me acting this way is no fun for any party involved. However, it just doesn’t work like that. My mind refuses to let her go, my heart refuses to stop loving her, and I refuse to admit that we will never get back together. I want her back more than fucking anything, even Rock Band 2 songs. FUCK! Deep down I know that we shouldn’t have split up, regardless of any points she made, all of which I thought I agreed with in the beginning. I will, however, remain silent regarding any of that when talking to her. It is not what she wishes, and I shall respect that.
I remember one conversation we had, one that I look back and view now as a definite red flag, and a major missed opportunity on my part. She asked me flat out if I had ever considered going overseas to witness as a missionary. I, without thinking, simply said no. Dumbass. It was just my normal, lazy, not giving two-shits response. And that was my folly. Had I thought it through, my honest answer would have been a tad different, and a bit more lengthy. What I really think is that I would willingly go anywhere on this shitty planet if it meant being with her. Even it meant getting off of my couch, with which I have been having a secret relationship as of late. Cheesy? Blow me, it’s how I feel. But, I am the idiot who says things too late. And now I sit here kicking myself whilist typing, an amazing feat in itself, starting to realize how I lost the girl I fell hardest for.
Ugh, glad that is over. Enough of my sulking, let us move on to something awesome, besides me. My ranting is upon us, as is greatness. The subject, you ask? Can you keep a secret? Good, now I won’t have to tell everybody about that affair you had on your girlfriend, or that you once decided to jerk off at your grandparents’ house. Whoa, His Dudeness knows some things about his readers. Oh yes. Now, while all of you ponder just who the sick fucking bastards in my fan base are, I will give you a little bit of education. Summer school, only sans the bullshit. Ready?
You see this more and more today. Teenage suicide. Who are these jokers? Do you know my feelings when I hear about these fuckin’ assholes? I giggle. Then I burst into laughter. Did you get the attention you wanted? How did that pan out for you? Why don’t you get up and accept your award? Oh that’s right, you can’t. All of that attention and pity you so desperately sought, you can’t even relish it, because you’re an idiot. HA HA! Joke is on you, dillweed.
Sure, immedietly there is a large gathering. Give it a week, tops, and hardly anybody gives a shit. Yeah, they will pretend to. But, deep inside, they think you are as big of a fuck up as you were when you were alive, and probably more so. The only people I have an ounce of feeling for is the parents. I mean, all of a sudden realizing that their kid is a top-tier douche bag, that is going to sting a bit, not to mention funeral costs.
It just pisses me off that people would just refuse to live any longer. Life is a gift, and their isn’t a fucking return policy just because you don’t like it at the moment. Yeah, I bitch and moan and complain about life, but I enjoy doing so. I’m not going to go off myself just because I may feel a wee bit down. It gives me something to look forward to. Eventually, it will get better, and I will rule the world. Just have to keep truckin’.
Let’s be fair, though. We have all thought about it, and you’re a liar if you say otherwise. Not seriously, perhaps, but the thought has crossed your mind. How the fuck could I pull that off? What method would I use? George Carlin did a gloriously hilarious bit about this whole idea, go look it up. Ah ah, after you finish reading. No, after. I’m going to get out the belt. Good, you may continue.
What separates us from the fucktards in the world is that we have the balls to keep living. We don’t bail out because Mommy and Daddy didn’t hug us enough, or we can’t make friends, or we just can’t go on. Newsflash. You can’t make friends because all you talk about is how shitty your life is. Look at me, that’s all I do, and I haven’t made a friend in who knows how long. That being said, I do not wish to make any more friends, so I have succeeded.
Let me give you an actual example of how I react to this type of thing. I will probably lose some people’s respect here, but that just means you give people too much credit, which makes you an idiot.
Alright, the scene is about two-ish years ago. I am with my ex ex girlfriend, the fuckin’ nutso one. Not so much at this time, but this is one of the beginnings. Anyways, her friend had just been found in the woods. My first comment was that she had probably just wiped with poison ivy and had an allergic reaction. I was then told that she had shot herself with a shotgun. Impressive, seeing as that is a long fucking gun. How do you manage to pull the trigger and maintain the gun upright? Either way, she had went ker-put. Apparently she had been caught stealing a DVD, and didn’t want to face the punishment of her parents. She instead chose the clearly obvious alternative, suicide. Of course the ex ex was devastated, all bawling and what not. I couldn’t see the point in it all, but like a good boyfriend, The Dude was there. Now, after letting her talk about her damned feelings, I figured my part was done, seeing as I had no prior connections with this chick. Suprised as shit was I when asked to go to the visitation. Even though I protested, I ended up going. I didn’t know this chick, had no respect for her, and now I am in the car headed to meet all these other people I don’t know, and do not like. I even had to pretend to show sympathy! Do not think me whipped, however, for I took my shots. I stepped out of the car next to the funeral home, and my first comment was, “This isn’t the IHOP.” I received a warm welcome. However, my interest was heightened when I learned something truly shocking.
Before we go on, re-read that last paragraph. Remember how this chick died, and then continue. You will understand why I was so shocked, hopefully.
OPEN CASKET! I could hardly believe my luck, humorly speaking. Why? What in the name of all that is me are those people thinking? Shotgun blast TO THE FACE and you want an open casket? Who are these people? Needless to say, I rushed to the front of the line. Nah, not really. If I had, it would have only been to get the fuck out of there. Either way, I had a pretty good belly laugh afterwards. Later in the week I remarked that she had gone out with a bang. That is my most cruel joke ever, and it is as funny as shit is smelly.
Is that cruel? Maybe. But I don’t find it any less cruel than throwing God’s gift of life in His face. It’s not as cruel as tearing the heart out of your family, or ripping your friends’ feelings to shreds. Kicking the people close to you in the gut as they sit and wonder why you had to act like such a fucking dumbass. So, to the person really contemplating suicide, you’re right. You are a fucking idiot, but chances are you’re important to somebody. God doesn’t put people on the earth for no reason. Do everybody a favor. Stop your bitching and find your purpose in life. You’re welcome.
There, now that was an ordeal. Like to fucking killed me, pun totally intended. That will just about do it for me tonight. I am off to a nice evening of repetitive Sportscenter and repetitive Sportscenter. Tomorrow I shall buy much cocaine to snort while I do your mother, whom I also bought, cheaply I might add. And boom goes the dynamite.
Until next time America. Take it easy.
The Dude
P.S. I still love you, a lot.
I will tell you, eventually. It really is a fucking knee slapper, in my not so humble opinion. Humility is really not a virtue I treasure any more. I am awesome, you all know it, and you deal with it accordingly. Hello readers. Glad to have you back. Even better is the fact that I am back. Without me, there really is no you, or perhaps no reading of me at the very least. Either way, I OWN YOUR READING SOULS!!!! Anyways my absence has given me not much to talk about, but I will do my damndest to lengthen it out to at least one thousand words. I feel otherwise that I am merely wasting my time, and yours. See how considerate I am? I know, I appreciate it too. Now, onward, ho!
I have come to a realization today. It is cruel, hateful, and really fucking selfish. Any relationship I see, family excluded, I hope fails. Is that not terrible? I know it is, but, I couldn’t care less. In all honesty I’ve come to believe that relationships aren’t anything but ticking time bombs. Each one has a different size fuse, but they are all burning. Sure, you can try and delay it as long as you want. Doesn’t matter. Something is going to happen to make shit hit the fan. Take it from somebody who knows first hand. Did my damndest to put off the apparently inevitable. If you’re a veteran to my blog, you obviously know that it didn’t fucking work.
You can say what you want to or give me all your bullshit examples, fuck you. I hope it all blows up in your face. I want to see everything you worked so fucking hard for backfire. I want to see the person that meant more to you than damn near anybody ever has, the person you would give anything to spend a second of time with, suddenly be gone, for good. Pull the rug out from under their comfy fucking lives, and watch them all fall on their faces. I want to witness a really shitty break up. One where everything goes horribly, and it just gets worse with time. You know, the fun ones. When it does, I will totally be there to help you up, sure. But I am gonna be laughing really fucking hard on the inside. Externally, I will probably give a little chuckle as well. And you will love me for it.
Finally it has happened. Yes, I have once again become bitter, and I fucking love it. I want others to feel as shitty and downtrodden as I do. I want people to really fucking experience true heartbreak, and then tell me that I need to pick myself up. How about I kick you in the fucking balls, take everything you love in life, and then tell you to just walk it off? Same idea. I hate people, I hate relationships, and I hate love. Bitterness is my good friend. We have spent a lot of time together, and it has never done me wrong.
Here is my idea. Love HAS to be a two-way street. If it isn’t, well my friend, you are looking at a sexual harassment case, and nobody wants that. You can love somebody with every fiber of your being, but it doesn’t matter. It doesn’t change anything. Life keeps goin, the world keeps spinnin, and chances are you are left sitting there with a broken heart like a jackass. At least I know I am.
Would you like another example? Here is the best I can give, and it is pretty fucking good. God. I know, whoa! Same idea though. God loves everyone of us with everything He has, all of His hardcore infinite self. He went so far as to die for us, which I find truly commendable. Can’t say I would be willing to die for you assholes. Of course, I really can’t say I would be willing to die for myself. Either way, He still loves us, for some reason not known to me. But, sadly, that doesn’t matter. He shells out so much love for everybody, yet there are people that have no intentions of changing their dumbass ways. I, stupidly, probably won’t, so in a sense that makes me a hypocrite, but fuck you anyhow.
The point I am trying to make, in a VERY round about way, is that the idea of love is skewed and flawed, even in its most purest form. And, for most people, it changes absolutely nothing. So, what in the name of all that is fuck is the point of loving somebody if it means jack and shit? I can’t answer that, and I challenge any of my readers to do so. If you can, I’ll reward you with my blessing of non-ignorance, and you will be forever known as such in my brain, my awesome brain. Same offer stands for the cure for loving somebody, other than being with that somebody, as this is apparently not an option.
As funny as this all sounds, I have something to top it. I can hear your jaws hitting the floor now. It really is funny, in a sense of how fucking stupid and pitiful people are. And I am not talking about myself there, either. Are you ready for this? I know I sure am. Fuck, I just spent over seven hundred words building up the suspense, I myself am about to blow a load in anticipation. Well, pause and let that image settle, and then we will continue. Alright, here ya go.
I was on Facebook the other day posting some sort of depressing lyrics (big suprise). I think it was the second verse to Purple Haze. Anyways, my ex ex girlfriend, the one with whom I actually had a nasty break up (fucking glorious), decided to rear her semi-functional head for about seven seconds to take a pot shot at El Duderino. She shot me a message saying something like, “It sucks when somebody breaks your heart, doesn’t it?” Very clever, as I believe I can safely assume she was referring to me. Let’s be honest now, I had her whipped. I mean WHIPPED. Seriously, I could have had anything I wanted. But, being the fucking genius that we all know I am, I let the right head do the thinking. However, all joking that isn’t really joking aside, I was her first love. I know this, and I also know that I broke her heart. No sympathy, she started going bat-shit crazy towards the end. Either way, over a year later, she finally gets to extract some revenge by kicking me while I was down. Of course, I took the high road and remained silent. HA! FUCK NO! I couldn’t pass up this kind of golden opportunity. My response was something along the lines of “It’s pretty cool how you can still make me laugh when you try and be clever…” followed by a bunch of expletive-filled sentences. She then tried to pass it off as if it was just her making conversation. Feeling no need to humiliate her further, I just left it alone. That, ladies and gentlemen, is fucking hilarious. I mean, you have to have some cantelopes to pull a stunt like that. Really? Over a year after the fact? Please, don’t flatter me. I’m awesome, but get the fuck over me already. A word of advice. I left you for a reason, so you wouldn’t be in my life anymore. Let’s have it stay that way, ok? You’re welcome.
If you happen to still venture over to my site, a message for you personally. I will never, EVER, pull such an idiotic stunt like that. As much as I may hate the fact that we split, hated every day since then, hate knowing I lost the best thing to ever happen to me, hate all of that, I will never try and pick at you when you are feeling down. I am not that stupid or desperate of a person. These things I write are not intended to hurt you, really. This blog is simply a way to vent, and express my seemingly limitless frustration at my current situation, and people in general.
There, I have said my piece for now. I know the same old shit gets old, but I’m not under contract. I am freelance, bitch. That does it for me. Until next time America. Take it easy.
The Dude
P.S. I still love you.
Filed under: my life | Tags: christian, christianity, god, me, religion, views
Wow, holy hell and what have you. Hello readers, are you ready for me to blow your mind? If not, I beg you to leave now for your sake. Actually, stay, you are probably the kind of person that needs to hear this. It’s a shame my brother beat me to the punch when it comes to this topic blogwise. However, I’m going to give my shot at this fucking stupid thing people call religious gatherings. Ready? No? Too bad. You’re about to get religion, my way.
I have always been reared in a Christian home, and I have always had a pretty good relationship with God. I can’t say that I am an exemplary example of a Christian, but all in all I’d say I am a decently good person. However, there are a few things in particular that really set me off. I am, in general, a decently angry human when it comes to people. But, if you try and pull these next couple of stunts, you will call down my wrath, and I will beat you over the head with your bullshit arguments. Understood?
My brother has been attending a church that he is really close to. Well, he is close to the people anyways. I can’t really say too much about the establishment, as I have never been there myself. All I have are the stories he tells me, and I consider him a good source. Here are a few examples.
Item 1-Movies- He has told me of them criticizing his movie choice because of the content. Really? Fucking really, people? They say they are a bad influence. I completely agree. I totally want to go out and murder a bunch of people because I saw the movie Se7en. I think they would appreciate the irony. Also, because I’ve seen so many bad romance dramas, I want to go off and cheat on my girlfr…heh heh…ouch…Anyways, you see my point. You simply cannot judge people’s actions based on movies. Taste, however, is different. My brother has awesome taste in movies, and they are just too fucking ignorant to see through what they like to call morality.
Item Dos-Dress- He attended church camp. Taken all together, it did him a fuck ton of good. Some of their rules, however, came off to me as a bit shady. For instance, no shorts. Ever. In the middle of summer, no wearing of the shorts. Fuck you, you will burn in your jeans or you will burn in hell. Secondly, shirts had to be Godly. My brother is a huge classic rock fan. What did his luggage consist of? Jimi tees, a Led Zep tee to name a few. Nope, made him change. What if those were the only shirts he had? Would they allow him to go shirtless? I remember now. I believe the Bible reads something like this. I can do all things through Christ who strengthens me, as long as I do not wear the wrong clothes. You miss that last part if you don’t read closely. Fuck you and your dress code, I will wear what I want and you will damn well deal with it. Be my guest and talk about me after I leave, because I’m sure that is keeping focused on God, right?
Final Item-Music- This one really is my biggest annoyance. My brother has awesome taste in music, but apparently not taste enough to distinguish good music from EEEEVILLL!!! Classic rock, somehow, falls in to that category. I would assume just about everything else does except Christian stuff, and even some of that may be too hard for the ears. Again, the music does in no way influence my actions. Jimi Hendrix, greatest guitarist ever, sings all the time about drugs. The Doors, Bob Dylan, The Who, Cream, Clapton on his own, The Beatles. All fucking awesome bands, but I’m not going to go do a line because they sing about it. What gets me is that they compare messages, and just stop there. Of course Christian music will win out, you’re skewing the survey, fuckers. If they would just stop and take the songs as a whole, perhaps they would see it differently. Any of the aforementioned artists’ worst songs could beat any Christian rock group’s best songs hands down. Nope, that whole era was nothing but pot heads and devil worship. They conveniently forget that the hippies were one of the most peaceful generations in the history of our nation. Pot heads? Sure. But they were a hell of a lot more open-minded and caring than these assholes claim to be.
Something else that bugs me is the way some Christians perceive the media. The thinking that anything Christian is good. Newsflash, you’re fucking stupid. You can try your damndest to do a good deed, but still fail miserably. My example, Christian rap. Wow, really? That shit is awful. They have more balls than me for attempting it at all, but the whole idea should just be shot. But, since it is for the Lord, it sounds really good, right? Also, Facing the Giants should have won Best Picture, and Best Male Actor in a Leading Role. “He bought me a truck.” I wanna vomit every time.
Now, like my title says, I finally get it. I understand why non-believers have such a tough time converting. Christians can be fucking douche bags. They are as close-minded as the rest of them, perhaps even more so. My prayer is that we can realize how many people we drive away with our judgmental actions soon enough to begin trying to save them. We are God’s people, and our job is to help others. That does not include telling them what to watch, how to dress, or what to listen to. It does include loving them, praying for them, and being there when they need you. The Christian faith is headed for a huge downward slide if churches are going to continue to become nothing more than fucking ignorant cult gatherings. That sting a little bit? You’re fucking welcome.
That does it for me. It is 12:30 in the AM and I have just begun my nightlife. I plan on heading off to my couch to sit and think about my girlfriend situation. I wish there to be one. Best case scenario I end up being with the girl of my dreams. That not being an option, however, due to us being separated for about a monthish now (and me still thinking the whole idea of the situation fucking retarded), I suppose I could settle for dating just a good friend right now. Who knows? In the end, I’ll just end up dying anyways, right? Ha. Puts things in perspective. Anyways, I am off. Until next time America. Take it easy.
The Dude
P.S. I still love you.
‘Cause I don’t even know myself. Hello, welcome back. A long time away, even though only four days have passed. The opening is again a song by The Who, but it eccentuates every fucking thing I’m feeling right now. If you’re interested, and I know you are, you will keep reading. If you stop now, you are an idiot, because this is going to be a fucking awesome post, as per usual. Here we go.
I have dwelled upon this revelation for about three days, looking for the perfect time to put these thoughts down. Now, at 1 AM my time zone it seems to kick in. I am divided into three different people. Not, voices in your head people, but three distinct personalities. It’s really quite amazing how I pull it off, if you think about it. Managing all of those and keeping the idea of sanity still somewhat together, man I really am pretty fucking good, as if you didn’t already know. Anyways, here they are, my three me’s, and the traits of all of them.
First up is the everyday Dude. Normal, according to my standards. This is the person everybody sees in person. I am lazy, quick witted, mildy funny, and lookin sexy. When you encounter me anywhere in person, you’ll get this guy, because that is the person that is called for. How shitty would it be to people meeting me if I came of as a down, depressed, smart ass prick? Exactly. Normally speaking, I am just a regular guy with better than normal taste in things. However, that is just one-third of the equation.
There’s the blogging me. This me has been plenty of different things, no doubt about that. A general outline, though, has emerged. Angry, judgmental, witty, prickish, call out your bullshit type of guy who is still lookin sexy. In other words, it is here where I am brutally honest on any and every subject I write about. Don’t think I was telling the truth about something? Check here, I’ll let you know. It’s here where I sit on my chair and tell the world how it should be run, but make no attempts to change anything. It is here where I tell everybody how bad I feel, but I make no attempts to change. This is the place to tell my life story, no matter how bad and sappy it is. And I write that I feel better, because that is what everybody wants to hear. That is what everybody wants to see. Nobody wants to see anyone keep up with the same pitiful fucking routine day in and day out, week after week. I play the role on here, because that is what is called for.
And then there is me when I am alone. There is me with my thoughts, my mind spinning, and lookin sexy even then. I relished these moments once. I loved solitude and my ability to think. Now, it is all the same gut-wrenching shit. I begin to think, and the same scenario always comes to mind. That stupid fucking day, that stupid fucking phone call, my stupid fucking self for falling in love, my stupid fucking heart breaking…end phone call. I think day in and day out about just what the fuck I’ve done to lose somebody so important to me that quick. I love her so much, and yet, it matters no longer. How and where did I fuck up so badly? What did I say that pushed it over the edge? Why couldn’t I see this coming? Why?
I think about the things I’d give up just to have her back. Just fucking name it, and I’d probably do it. Travel across the world, hmm? Is that it? Is that all that is fucking required? Hmm? That isn’t fair to say, but fairness has neither really applied to me, nor anybody else. I think about the many times I have prayed and prayed and prayed, and still I can not conceive of any other route I could have taken, or any route I could possibly take now. I begin to question if love really has a point, or if it is just a cruel fuck that enjoys messing with people. I sit, and I think. My thoughts consume me, and this somehow keeps me from realizing, for a bit, that I am alone. I fall asleep with my thoughts, and they turn into dreams. I dream of her every night, and every morning I awake with a tear-soaked pillow, and I hate it. It has almost been a month, and still she is always on my mind. Nothing has changed, even though I said it has. I still hurt the same as before. As much as I want that to be a lie, I can’t help it. It does not matter where I am, conscious or not, I can’t escape this feeling. This is my private thinking, me with my thoughts and nobody else, in a nutshell. And now they are yours, and part of my second self. Funny how that works.
Yes, I do believe that I run on three different wavelengths. It’s a hell of a ride, and I don’t particularly enjoy one-third of it. Which third is the real me? Tough to say. All of them, and none of them. But, it’s how I operate, and will continue to do so until further notice. I will write, you will read, and you will love it, because I said you will. Now, can you see the real me? I’m not sure if I can, but what I can see, I fucking love. You didn’t think I could hate myself, did you?
That will do it for me this early morning. I will, someday, get back on my normal routine of ranting at idiots. Until then, you can blow me, because you know you wanna. That does it for me. Until next time America. Take it easy.
The Dude
P.S. I still love you.
And don’t you ever fucking forget it. Readers, welcome back to the awesomness that is my blog. A slight absence from the postings has probably left a good number of you dead from withdrawals, and for that I apologize. For those that remain alive, I give you props. You have survived long enough to be granted the honor of reading this current post. Congratulations and enjoy.
This post is going to mainly be just a rant, because I haven’t had a good long one in a while. I’m sure you all are so excited to see what and whom I’m going to badger and make my bitch today, and in all fairness I can’t wait either.
As I was saying, a reference from The Who, again. Yeah, I’m sure it gets old, but until everybody acknowledges that they are awesome, I will continue doing it with The Who as well as other bands that I deem worthy of being in my blog. Well, the song really does have a theme I feel like ranting on, so here you go.
Would you like to know what I hate? Of course you do, that’s why you’re here. I hate it when people say that our future is fucked because of the upcoming generation. Now, I know that in one of my previous posts I bitched out all the stupid fucks that are like so many of today’s kids, I know this. Stay with me here while I tell you how this post is not hypocritical. I promise I can prove it, and I also promise you will love it. And if you don’t, perhaps you’re the type of people I’m ridiculing.
I’m not bitching at the kids anymore. It’s somebody else’s turn to feel the wrath of me. I fucking hate it when people say that we’re doomed because of the youth of today. According to the experts, we’re getting stupider and fatter than all holy hell, and we don’t give a shit about other people either. True as this may be, although not in my case, what I don’t appreciate is when they assume that the kids and teens should just accept the blame for later when we haven’t even had a chance. Where do you think the supposed idiots of tomorrow learned to become idiots? Hmmm, perhaps from their parents? The stupid fucks who are running the country now. It’s funny how they think they have such a handle on life and that our generation is going to fuck it all up.
Here’s the real deal. We’re fucked now, and the upcoming youth can’t make it much worse than it already is. We’re deep, deep in debt, our economy is damn near non-existent, we’re in conflicts (not officially wars) that we can’t seem to get out of, and the King of Pop just died. Really? All of this is going to get worse? I especially like it when they kind of try and push it all on us now. Like when they say, “I worry about the problems of today and how we’ll deal with them tomorrow. (ish)” Like all the shit that happens today is our fault as soon as we come of age. How dare we will have, right? How about they grow some balls and admit they fucked up, instead of just waiting for the next in line to inherit the blame.
This is our generation. Are we stupid? High chance of yes. Are we fat? Sure, give or take a person. The fault on both accounts, however, works two ways. You’re our role models, and that’s our fault for being so dense as to look up to you. You influence us and how we grow up. Look at you, and what you’re teaching us. You’re teaching us how to be fat and how to fuck people over. You also teach us to just pass on the blame to the next person rather than take it yourself. Thanks for the lesson, but I think I’ll pass. I encourage everybody around my age to do the same.
Now, let me educate you further. We’re fat and stupid, perhaps. What we aren’t, however, is a bunch of rich fucking pricks who have screwed over half the country because they want a bit more money, an extra high, one more cheap lay, or yet another fucking tit job. It wasn’t us that fucked up a bunch of people’s families by sending troops overseas on some bullshit intelligence. We didn’t start a ‘war’ just to gain some oil either. We didn’t kill the soldiers fighting, you did. With your piss poor decisions and your fucking greed. No. All that is on you fuckers currently in power. You caused all of this. Do you care? Probably not, but don’t you fucking dare put that shit on me and the youth of today. This is MY generation, and on behalf of all of us, we accept none of your fucking bullshit blame. You’re welcome.
How’s that for a rant? Pretty good, if I do say so myself, and I do. As for me and my girlfriend hunt, pfffft. It’s hard to do when you don’t get out. Even harder when you don’t give a shit about most people. All my close friends are guys, and the one close chick friend I had just got the fuck out of Dodge. That leaves me here, alone, waiting. What for? I’m not sure. I just expect some girl to fall into my lap, because that’s the way it’s always worked. I don’t feel the need to go out and make an effort, because I’m too damn lazy. My theory is that if a chick likes me, or wants to get to know me better, they’ll ask. I’m accommodating, I’m a nice guy, more or less. Perhaps not the best idea, but until I start having fantasies of that green thing from Ghostbusters, I think I’ll be alright.
That does it for me. Until next time America. Take it easy.
The Dude
P.S. I still love you.
