There, I said it. I feel much better now.
I don’t know how it happened, but it’s official now. I’m on here all the time when I’m supposed to be doing other shit, and I’m obsessed with my friend count.
I answer hundreds of emails a day, many of them from very cool people, but many more from people that would lose a spelling bee to a fucking toilet seat.
But I do answer them, as many as I can at least. I can never seem to be able to get them all, but I give as much free time to answering emails as I reasonably can. If you get a reply from me, however retarded it is, rest assured that it came from my fat fingers. I don’t have an assistant answering anything. I do it all myself.
What a fascinating place this is.
Filled with all types. It is really one of the most interesting ways to people watch ever, a sea of humans all electronically connected, and looking to communicate.
One of the interesting things about something like this myspace, is that you interact with SO many people. This is really what the internet is best at. Connecting so many different people that would never be connected otherwise. There’s something really fascinating about that. I think it’s important to realize that this has never happened ever before in the entirety of human history. Never have people been able to interact like this.
And with so many options. My friend Mayhem goes online with his sidekick phone and talks to people on myspace in the middle of a night club. I’m doing it right now on a tour bus in the middle of Mississippi with a cellular card that sticks right into the side of my laptop and gets me online in broadband speeds. The boundaries between people are dissolving by the hour.
Of course there’s lots of dumb shit that you have to filter through, but just like it is in real life™, there are cool things to be found if you just keep looking.
In the few months I’ve been on here, I’ve seen a full spectrum of all the different types of people. I’ve seen hundreds of the same profile pics; the animated Tyrone Biggums dancing, (By the way… do you have any fucking idea how many times I’ve heard “there’s something you might not know about me, Joe Rogan – I smoke rocks?”
Before you post that, sift through the comments on my page and take a little look-see.
No need to add to that pile, really.)
-The picture of the retard with the “I fuck on the first date” t-shirt, the little kid giving the finger, the cat with the machine gun, etc, etc.
I’ve also found 7 different pages with the screen name “FUCK MY ASS.”
I guess that’s a real popular request in cyberspace. It does seem a little bossy, though.
Perhaps “Please fuck my ass” would be a little easier on the senses.
Oddly enough, out of the 7 pages of “FUCK MY ASS,” only one of them actually has a picture of the ass that they would like you to fuck.
Not very smart marketing, if you ask me.
My favorite pictures though, are the hot chicks seductively pulling their panties down in their profile pics, but then loudly proclaiming in their “about me” section that they’re “not interested in meeting perverts.” That’s the way I would handle it too if I was a hot chick that wasn’t interested in meeting perverts.
Just stick it out there right in their fucking face, and then tell ‘em you’re above it all.
Two fingers shoved deep in your pussy lips and a screen quote that says, “What the fuck are you looking at!!??”
You see, it’s actually a very zen like strategy… a clever ruse to expose the perverts, and uncover the good men. It’s so very “Art of War.”
They PRETEND to be sluts, so that they can identify all the perverts right away.
You see, if you’re a regular girl, it takes a while before some guy you’re chatting with on the net gathers up the balls to type, “I wanna lick your asshole, baby” in an email, but if you’ve got 8 pictures on your site of you in a bikini simultaneously washing cars and giving hand jobs, then “I wanna lick your asshole, baby” might be a popular opening line.
The same guy that you would have had to wait 3 months of regular dating to find out he’s a fucking deviant, you can find out right away.
And the good men? Well, the good men would want to save the slut and rescue her.
Taking her away from the empty life of slutdom, and bringing her home with him for true love and marital bliss.
“Remember, everything happens for a reason!”
Can you just imagine the joy on a good man’s face, when as he’s trying to save a girl, she tells him, “I’m not really a slut, I’m actually a virgin, saving myself for my one true love, but I want to be sure when I decide to sleep with him I don’t get deceived, and give up my virginity to a clever confidence man, so I PRETEND to be a slut to weed out the perverted men right away.”
The good man would be so happy to hear this. Tears of joy would roll down his young, handsome, Robert Redford looking, Marlboro man face.
Denial is a weird fucking thing. I had a stripper tell me once that she wasn’t a stripper. We were in a strip club, and she was standing right in front of me in her panties and garter belt with 9” heels on, telling me she’s not a stripper, and that she’s a “mortgage consultant.” She wasn’t saying that she wasn’t “just” a stripper, but that she’s not one at all.
Now, I’ve always enjoyed strip clubs. Not just because I’m a pervert, but because they’re such weird places to observe human nature.
Where else on the planet can you see people like that? Strip clubs are one of the rare locations in our society where you’re guaranteed to find crazy people there.
My friend Eddie worked in a strip club for 10 years as a DJ, and having met a good amount of people in the club he worked at, I would have to say at least 80% of the people working there were fucking crazy.
You know how we send those probes out to mars and shit, and they land in a certain spot and take inventory of their surroundings?
Well, just imagine the fucked up opinion of us humans some aliens would have if they sent a probe to earth, and it landed inside a strip club.
They aliens would be baffled.
“It appears that on their planet the females all agree to meet in one place. The males show up there, and they give their currency to the females, and in exchange the females pretend to be attracted by them. It appears that they mate in a process where the male keeps his clothes on, and they time their sexual sessions with songs.”
They would probably think, “Whoa, how retarded are humans?”
Back to my encounter with the incredible non-stripper…
I said, “How long have you been a stripper?”
“I’m not a stripper. I’m a mortgage consultant.”
*Pauses while my brain computes the data*
“Ummm… But you’re working right now, right? And we are in a strip club, and you are in your underwear, and you are about to go on stage and show some strange men your pussy so that they’ll give you money, right?” (The whole time I was saying this, she was gently shaking her head back and forth with eyebrows raised in the “you just don’t get it” gesture.)
“I just do this on the weekends for extra money to invest in my real estate ventures.”
“Today is Thursday.”
“I count Thursday as the weekend because I never work on Sundays.”
“Would you like a dance?”
That’s EXACTLY how it went down. No embellishment.
If that girl has a myspace page, and I’m SURE she does, it probably has many a picture of her in her panties with her ass sticking out, and a nice blurb in the “about me” section about being a “spiritual person,” and under her turn offs, I’m sure she’s listed “Fake people.” Personally, I’m with you, sister. I hate those fake fuckers, too.
That also seems to be a trend here. The search for the so-called “real people.”
They only want “real people” as myspace friends. Some people consider their myspace friendship to be very valuable.
Some people withhold their myspace friendship like it’s some sort of a sacred gift.
They have certain requirements that you must meet before they will approve you. You must message them first, and let them know why you’re interested in being on their little list. “Don’t even THINK about asking me to add you unless you contact me first!”
I welcome all. I am a proud myspace whore.
I’ll take anyone. Retards, geniuses, strippers and mortgage consultants alike.
I’ll add you even if you hate me. I live for seeing my “friends” count rise.
My happiness is inexorably tied to it. When it grows, I grow.
I can’t help it, I’m lost in the tentacles of it’s addiction.
What myspace basically is, is a place everyone has their own reality show now. It’s your own litte internet reality show, and anyone can have one.
It allows some girls to actually become “famous.” People who you probably would have never heard of are getting hundreds of emails a day from potential mates.
They get a constant stream of attention. It’s basically the same rush as fame, just without the money. You’re a myspace star.
People check out your page, just to read the comments and see what’s going on.
You can read the pages and watch plots unfold…
If a girl meets a fellow that she likes, and they actually meet for a drink, the chances are one of them is going to leave a comment on the other one’s page. Not a private email, but a public declaration.
“Mark, you were so funny!!! LOL I had the best time last night!! Call me!!”
If a girl leaves a message like that in a guy’s comment page, she might as well just stand over her computer and piss all over the screen with his page on it.
“Back off, bitches! He’s mine now!”
So delicious to watch, and so much more interesting than reading about Jessica Simpson’s divorce in the tabloids.
You can really learn a lot about someone by reading what he or she writes in their blogs. Sometimes more so than you can by talking to them.
When you talk to someone, they’re constantly gauging your reactions to their words, responding to social cues, taking it down a notch when necessary, throwing in the ever impressive big word when they feel that their intelligence is being questioned – but when they’re writing in their blogs, it’s just lil’ old them. There you can gaze upon the mind in its raw state.
My favorite blog so far is this guy, JuanitaMORE. He’s a transvestite living in San Francisco and advertising in sex magazines. He’s only got 2 blog entries right now, but they’re both hysterical. One is called “Spam the man root,” and the other is called “A woman like me.”
Check some of this shit out.
Here’s a sample quote:
“Ha, I think. I ask him what would he do with me if I let him come over. He says he would come into my apartment, slowly take off all his clothes and wait on his knees for me to lift up my short skirt so he could suck on my lady meat. He says, “A woman like you deserves a man like me to worship her cock.”?
Seriously… “suck on my lady meat?”
That’s pure gold, ladies and gentlemen. No, fuck gold, fuck platinum, that’s fucking Moon rocks, right there.
The whole blog is hysterical.
>Check it out here.
(You might have to register a screen name to look at it, but believe me, it’s worth it. For those stories alone it’s worth registering.)
The inevitable collapse of the empire is near.
The first step, is that there’s going to be a reality show about the life of a reality show camera man. That will be the sign that the apocalypse is near. There will be a camera man following the camera man for the first season, but eventually viewers will become curious. They’ll ask, who is the man behind the camera that’s behind the man behind the camera?
And it will accelerate from there. It’ll be like when you take two mirrors and face them to each other and you can see endless mirrors inside each one to infinity. People from all walks of life would quit their careers at the promise of possible celebrity as a camera man. Everywhere you look there would be places training and hiring camera men for work as camera men following camera men.
And hey… who knows? Maybe if you’re interesting, they’ll turn the camera on you.
Eventually, EVERYONE will be famous.
Then the aliens will come.
Maybe that’s what they’ve been waiting for. Maybe that was the agreed upon clearance they needed before they swoop in to exterminate us.
When the human experiment degrades to the point that everyone is famous, then we fucking kill them off and try again.
If you believe that our life is just energy, and that we leave this plane and go to another, more beautiful and more perfect place, wouldn’t you WANT all this to happen?
Wouldn’t you want the really cool part to begin now?
So you wanna know why I want to be on myspace?
Because I want to help this process along.
Because I want to be a part of the avalanche that swallows up the human race.
I mean really, it’s inevitable.
It’s slipping away from us, people. It’s painfully obvious to see, but nobody wants to make the call, and if they do, no one listens. The wars continue, the environment decays, and the resources are running dry. We’re sucking this bitch dry like a species of microscopic little vampires attacking a living earth. I mean think about this war we’re in right now, we’re literally fighting over who gets to suck out of the main artery.
I’m not saying I’m innocent, I’m a part of it too, I’m just saying, isn’t it fucking crazy that we’re still living like this in 2006?
Because really, that’s what we’re doing. That’s what the whole human race is: a very complicated form of bacteria that is attacking the mother earth.
If you looked at the Earth as a living organism – and who’s to say it isn’t, because it’s a host for life, but how to we know that a planet isn’t actually some kind of super life that exists in some sort of autonomous continuum, fueled by it’s very matter?
I mean, people are alive, but really when you think about what we “are” we’re a host to a collection of different organisms. From microbes living under your fingernails, to the viral life living in your cells that gives you herpes, to the fact that there’s more e coli living in your gut right now than there have ever been people EVER.
So who is to say that the earth isn’t conscious just like us. Maybe it’s the highest form of life.
Now think about this next time you’re flying into LA; when you come over the beautiful mountains, and you see the ocean out in the distance, and you scan the landscape and then suddenly see LA… what is that?
It’s big, and it’s brown, and it stinks, and there’s smoke coming out of it, and it’s getting bigger every day.
Just like mold on a sandwich. When you see mold on a sandwich, how do we know that mold isn’t conscious? Maybe each one of those individual mold spores thinks he’s a bad motherfucker, and that there ain’t never been a mold spore like him. He works hard every day to consume as much of the sandwich as he can, to impress the other mold spores. He thinks he’s independent, but meanwhile to us he’s just a part of what we see as one unit of mold when we open of the fridge.
Maybe that’s how we look to someone watching from afar.
Just look at the way things are heading… we never stop breeding no matter HOW bad the traffic gets. Isn’t it possible that there are too many fucking people? But you can’t say that, because babies are beautiful and the most loving creatures on god’s green earth.
I’m not saying babies aren’t cute, I just don’t think you should be allowed to have 16 of them. I read about a chick in Little Rock Arkansas recently that just gave birth to her 16th fucking kid. That has got to be one of the most insane things you could ever see in your life. Those kids must be like wild fucking animals.
I bet they don’t even know how to read. They’re probably just running around like crazed chimps, flinging shit at each other, destroying everything in sight, fucking each other, and killing and eating small animals, while their Zoloft popping, valium taking mother just stands there, white knuckle gripping the bible, doing the best that she can to keep her head from literally fucking exploding.
You can’t raise 16 kids and keep track of all of them. It’s impossible.
I’ve got 3 dogs, and I can barely keep an eye on those motherfuckers, you’re telling me you can keep a constant eye on 16 humans?
It’s accelerating and no one is even mentioning it. No one ever had 16 fucking kids in the past! But now days you hear ever other fucking month about some bitch who drowned 5 of her kids because she went crazy. And as the father is on the news talking about the tragedy, no one says, “OF COURSE SHE WENT CRAZY, YOU FUCKING ASSHOLE!!! She had 5 fucking kids!!”
How do you NOT go crazy with 5 kids?
Her retarded husband is never home to help, because he’s pulling double shifts at the local donut press, and everytime things get tough, he puts on the guilt trip and lets everyone know that he’s got 5 hungry little ones at home, and he needs the extra shifts.
That poor lady probably couldn’t even help herself. Maybe what really happened, was amidst the turmoil and chaos of those little fucking monsters screaming and shitting on each other, she had a moment of clarity. For the sake of the human race, maybe she realized that she had to drown those kids in the tub.
Who knows… maybe her drowning her nightmare kids saved us 2 weeks of extra time before the apocalypse.
In the long run, it’s not going to help, though. You can see the direction this thing is headed in, and it’s not slowing down.
Strap yourselves in, and spark one up for the ride.
Let’s keep this party rolling until the little grey spacemen pull the plug.
2012 or bust, people.