Rereading some of the old entries I gotta say I was apparently suffering from some emotional problems. Did anyone make it through that entire “Snowflakes” article? Congratulations to you, sir or madam. Good God, it’s like I was an emo kid. I also manage to sound like a mentally disturbed Asian fetishist on a few of them; cut me some slack angry white girls, I wrote those mainly for my at-the-time Korean girlfriend.

There’s going to be a huge change in tone, so sorry for anyone who actually still read this and was looking forward to me eventually posting an article about contemplating suicide. When I first started this site my life was a living hell; I toiled probably 60 hours a week at a thankless job that barely paid me above minimum wage with no prospects or hope of advancement. Seriously people, get out and have fun, have some drinks, fuck some chicks. I would totally go register drink-and-fuck-chicks.com but it’s probably already taken.


Peace bredders.

Alright, I pulled what I thought was my best work from the old site and put it up. If there is some popular request for old content that I missed I’ll put it up too, if I still got it. From here on out it’s going to be all new stuff, except for maybe some alcohol reviews only my friends have seen.

Every person who has ever been in desperate enough financial straits to wonder what they’re going to eat that day is undoubtedly familiar with Ramen instant noodles. It’s a good system; it’s like 50 cents for a cup, you throw in some hot water, and you’ve got a tasty meal to sustain you for another day of dealing with idiots and doing pointless work. I am here to tell you that Ramen is fool’s gold. The ultimate instant noodle is known as Nong Shim, and it is like eating pure joy.

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Like it or not, there some things that you will just never be able to learn how to do. If you are 150 pounds and 5’5 you’re not ever going to play in the NBA, and if you’re functionally retarded you’re never going to become a physicist. Sorry, but them’s the breaks. There is no better example of this to me than writing, and the horrid farce of education that english departments in universities across the nation have become.

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All American’s propensity for embarrassing behavior began almost a year before his Elephant Penis incident. After (and often during) our last period computer class, I, All American, Truck, and one of All American’s friends would regularly play multiplayer sessions of Return to Castle Wolfenstein. Since Truck and I were both pretty damn good, we would usually split up and be on different teams in the interest of balance. However, a few times we teamed up to lay waste to everyone and everything, and for reasons unknown to me this caused All American to suffer a meltdown.

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Friendship is a difficult thing to precisely define. Some say it is sticking by someone through thick and thin. Others define it as a special bond. Well, I can safely say all these people are idiots. True friendship is holding your friend while he pisses and vomits all over your $40 shirt.

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I made very few friends in highschool. By and large, I was content to sit by myself on one of the building’s porches listening to Black Sabbath and reading some hideously complex philosophy book (yes, there was a time when I thought that shit made you smart and unique…shut up) and glaring at everyone walking by. However, my junior year, I met someone nearly as hateful, cynical, and fucked up as myself: The South African Suicide King. Read more

In 2004 I embarked on a journey that may very well have changed the course of my life forever. Well, not the journey itself, but the effects of the journey could have had far reaching consequences. I owe this remarkable experience to my good friend Weezer, who I am amazed I didn’t kill for talking me into this madness. This experience shall henceforth be referred to as the the Tampa “Hemo” concert, not only because it is an truncation of, “Hardcore/Emo” but also because it evokes linguistic images of the word “homo” which I find delightful and amusing on a personal level.

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“You are not a beautiful and unique snowflake. You are the same decaying organic matter as everyone else, and we are all part of the same compost pile.”

Taken from Chuck Palahniuk’s “Fight Club” these are probably among the truest words ever written. Every day, thousands of school-children across the globe are fed the same tired line of bullshit. They’re given unrealistic expectations for life and then beaten into line as to how they are supposed to accomplish it. You are special. You can do anything you can imagine. Reach for the stars. Believe in yourself, and you can accomplish anything! What a load.

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Cliques are the height of lameness and idiocy in any school across the nation. They infest schools like an outbreak of leprosy, and anyone who contracts the clique disease dies a mind-death and “falls off” the same plane of intelligence as their peers. The people who subscribe to notions of cliquedom are so utterly bereft of anything approaching human thought that they might as well be ruled clinically dead. They are, in essence, walking, talking Terri Schiavos. Was that joke in bad taste? I don’t think she really cares; she’s dead for real now. These people are the Clique Bitches, and they are your friends, your neighbors, and your children.

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Yes, you read that correctly, punks suck horribly. They smell bad, their music is terrible, and most are borderline retarded. You could count the number of good punk albums on one hand, assuming of course that hand had been blown off and only a stump remained. Fortunately, no true punk would give a shit what some idiot on the internet wrote about him, which brings me to the meat of my article.

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I hate forums. God damn do I ever hate forums. There are few things in this world that I consider to be a bigger waste of time and haven of circle-jerking, false bravado, and lifeless dweebs than internet forums. Among them are Nazi rallies, student government associations, and frats and sororities. Everytime I try to join a forum or talk to people in one it results in disaster. Read more

Throughout history, there are those occasional bands that get everything right. Led Zeppelin was one. The Who and Black Sabbath were two others. Another such musical juggernaut may be found in the form of Iron Maiden, perhaps the hardest rocking group that has ever and will ever exist. These motherfuckers stop for no man. They will go on producing albums of intense rockage until they are dead in the ground, and then they will take over Hell and force Satan to run the lighting at their 7th Circle concerts. Eventually, God Himself will turn over ownership of the Universe to Iron Maiden, and life will become an endless version of Aces High. In other words, paradise will finally be upon us.

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I’m getting it out right now, I hate parties. HATE them. I would rather sit at home in my underwear jacking off to aerobics infomercials at 4 AM than go to another boring, worthless, clusterfuck of a party. There is nothing I hate more than being forced to socialize with assholes I don’t know, eat shitty food and drink shitty drinks, and generally have to battle constantly against the urge to explode and kill everyone in the room. There are many divisions of parties, and they all suck equally. The phrase, “a fun party” is an oxymoron. Parties fucking suck, and anyone who likes them is probably a communist and a pedophile.

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Fat people suck. I hate them almost as much as I hate dancing and parties. They are literally a drain on society. They increase wear and tear on our roads, walkways, public transportation, and food industry by virtue of their fatness. Did you ever wonder why restaurants don’t offer Small, Medium, and Large anymore? It’s because the fatties decided that Large wasn’t big enough. Normal people have to order the Large now; the fatties need to choose between, “Extra Large” and, “Gargantuan” portions to satisfy the bottomless abyss that is their stomachs. I have nothing against fat people who don’t care they’re fat. Hey, if you’re fine weighing 500 pounds and having to pay blind and deaf prostitutes to get sex, more power to you. My ire is deserved for the Self-Entitled Fatty, who shall hereafter be referred to as SEF.

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