Dear Sting,
It has come to my attention that you play a lute. What the fuck, Sting? Are you fucking trying to ruin manhood for men? Seriously. Are you? Because it looks to me like you are.
Holy fucking fuck. You've grown a beard. You glib, Limey son of a bitch. Stop. Just fucking stop. I haven't shaved in a month and nine days now because I am a man and I love that as a man, I can grow a sick, fucking brutal looking beard. Seriously, Its like the unibomber and Captain Nemo smoked meth in an unlit basement for six months while pregnant with each other's bearded children and my face is the burly afterbirth. And here you go, sullying beards with your namby-pamby namby-pambiness. So now, instead of looking like the swarthy embryotic sack nestled on Nemo's hairy uterus, my face looks like a douche bag.
Start respecting your gonads, you baked beans for breakfast enjoying, royalty revering, lute playing, Adventures of Baron Munchausen ruining asshole.
Fuck you.
-Matt C.
Thursday, October 29, 2009
An Open Letter To Sting
From MSNBC: Sting Says Obama 'Sent From God' To 'Fix This Mess'
Dear Sting,
Please do not comment on anything ever again. While I definitely like President Obama, knowing that he has your endorsement makes me feel like I should be slightly embarrassed for liking him because you are a massive tool.
Like, remember when you boasted about how you and your wife have 9-hour tantric sex marathons? And then you attempted to clear up the story and ended up boasting about it again? Yeah, well now I associate liking Obama with boring marathon douchebag sex. Thanks a lot, ass.
I hate you.
-Matt C.
Dear Sting,
Please do not comment on anything ever again. While I definitely like President Obama, knowing that he has your endorsement makes me feel like I should be slightly embarrassed for liking him because you are a massive tool.
Like, remember when you boasted about how you and your wife have 9-hour tantric sex marathons? And then you attempted to clear up the story and ended up boasting about it again? Yeah, well now I associate liking Obama with boring marathon douchebag sex. Thanks a lot, ass.
I hate you.
-Matt C.
Sunday, October 18, 2009
Chapter 14 (redux): That's Entertainment!
Dear Cyclops,
Nice outfit! I can only assume it is to keep THEM from finding you. That or you are afraid of your stepdad Chet cross-kicking you for bringing such great shame to your family. Is that cologne you're wearing? No? Oh, its just mountain dew and basement stink.
CHAPTER 16: Awareness Marches
CHAPTER 16: Awareness Marches
This morning, I found myself trapped on the wrong side of Congress Street, unable to get off Munjoy Hill because of a Breast Cancer Awareness march. Well intentioned or not, this was incredibly obnoxious and self-serving.
(Much like me.)
As a Hateful Man, I feel it is my responsibility to ask the following hard-hitting question; why does breast cancer awareness need a march dedicated to it?
Are there people out there who actually support breast cancer itself whose minds need to be swayed by a massive, public nuisance? No. Breast cancer is universally regarded as horrible. There is no opposition to breast cancer awareness. When you say the words breast cancer, people immediately perk up at the word breast, then are immediately shot down by the word cancer. No one is sending money to support the spread of breast cancer. Osama Bin Laden, Glenn beck and Tom Cruise probably would all agree with you in describing breast cancer as shitty.
Did that march directly help ease the suffering of anyone afflicted with breast cancer? No. Did it actually help bring about advances in breast cancer treatment? No. Did it allow a bunch of busy people to pat each other on the back for being "involved" with something without having to dirty their hands by accomplishing something meaningful? Yeah, but that's about it.
In terms of getting the actual message across, it was only sort of effective. Sure, some people were wearing pink, but not everyone. Signs were printed up on sheets of 8.5x11 paper, in fonts so small that they couldn’t be read by anyone who wasn’t directly in front of them, then taped to poster boards. People were chatting on their cell phones while marching. The Hateful Wife and I were only able to figure out what they were marching for when we saw a sign with a big pink ribbon on it.
Here. I will be just as effective as that breast cancer march. Watch. Just watch.
FUCK BREAST CANCER! THAT SHIT IS HORRIBLE! WE SHOULD OBLITERATE IT!
Wow. I’m not going to lie, people. That. Was. Awesome. I feel really good about myself for doing something sort of public to raise awareness about the awfulness of something that is intrinsically awful.
And here's the rub, folks. Did that inconvenience anyone? No. Was my message clearly stated? Yes. Guess what? I win. Marchers lose.
Far more appropriate for breast cancer awareness would have been a rally or a concert. Maybe they could have set up a massive garage sale, the proceeds of which go to support breast cancer research. That way, when I think about breast cancer awareness, I don't immediately start grinding my teeth and muttering obscenities. I really don't want to be that guy.
Just to be clear, I am not knocking breast cancer awareness, nor am I knocking exercises of free speech that inconvenience motorists. However, I think that when you inconvenience a motorist, you probably should be doing so for reasons that are more combative than simply showing the world that you hate atrociousness. Critical Mass rides, for example, are excellent uses of inconvenience to get a point across. They piss people off for wasting gas when they could be riding bikes or utilizing mass transit - people who are not me.
That last bit is especially important.
This morning, I found myself trapped on the wrong side of Congress Street, unable to get off Munjoy Hill because of a Breast Cancer Awareness march. Well intentioned or not, this was incredibly obnoxious and self-serving.
(Much like me.)
As a Hateful Man, I feel it is my responsibility to ask the following hard-hitting question; why does breast cancer awareness need a march dedicated to it?
Are there people out there who actually support breast cancer itself whose minds need to be swayed by a massive, public nuisance? No. Breast cancer is universally regarded as horrible. There is no opposition to breast cancer awareness. When you say the words breast cancer, people immediately perk up at the word breast, then are immediately shot down by the word cancer. No one is sending money to support the spread of breast cancer. Osama Bin Laden, Glenn beck and Tom Cruise probably would all agree with you in describing breast cancer as shitty.
Did that march directly help ease the suffering of anyone afflicted with breast cancer? No. Did it actually help bring about advances in breast cancer treatment? No. Did it allow a bunch of busy people to pat each other on the back for being "involved" with something without having to dirty their hands by accomplishing something meaningful? Yeah, but that's about it.
In terms of getting the actual message across, it was only sort of effective. Sure, some people were wearing pink, but not everyone. Signs were printed up on sheets of 8.5x11 paper, in fonts so small that they couldn’t be read by anyone who wasn’t directly in front of them, then taped to poster boards. People were chatting on their cell phones while marching. The Hateful Wife and I were only able to figure out what they were marching for when we saw a sign with a big pink ribbon on it.
Here. I will be just as effective as that breast cancer march. Watch. Just watch.
FUCK BREAST CANCER! THAT SHIT IS HORRIBLE! WE SHOULD OBLITERATE IT!
Wow. I’m not going to lie, people. That. Was. Awesome. I feel really good about myself for doing something sort of public to raise awareness about the awfulness of something that is intrinsically awful.
And here's the rub, folks. Did that inconvenience anyone? No. Was my message clearly stated? Yes. Guess what? I win. Marchers lose.
Far more appropriate for breast cancer awareness would have been a rally or a concert. Maybe they could have set up a massive garage sale, the proceeds of which go to support breast cancer research. That way, when I think about breast cancer awareness, I don't immediately start grinding my teeth and muttering obscenities. I really don't want to be that guy.
Just to be clear, I am not knocking breast cancer awareness, nor am I knocking exercises of free speech that inconvenience motorists. However, I think that when you inconvenience a motorist, you probably should be doing so for reasons that are more combative than simply showing the world that you hate atrociousness. Critical Mass rides, for example, are excellent uses of inconvenience to get a point across. They piss people off for wasting gas when they could be riding bikes or utilizing mass transit - people who are not me.
That last bit is especially important.
CH. 15: Off the Grid
CHAPTER 15: OFF THE GRID
(Inspired by a conversation with Boo)
Living off the grid in Manhattan and blogging about it does not constitute actually living off the grid.
Let me break this down to you:
1. You are living in one of the largest cities in the world. Even if you are not plugged into the electric grid in your own apartment, you are reaping the benefits of the electric grid because you are surrounded by a million other people who are. You enjoy the ambient light, the ambient heat, and the ambient douche-baggery of living in MANHATTAN.
2. YOU ARE THEN FUCKING BLOGGING ABOUT IT!! That negates what few "off the grid" claims you had going for you.
You really want to live off the grid? Fine. Move to the woods, so far out that you cannot see any ambient light from civilization. Split your own wood. Grow and hunt your own food with hand made tools and weapons. Harvest your own natural fibers and sew your own clothes. Build a shelter only using materials you harvested yourself.
When the park rangers find your corpse next spring, they will appreciate appreciate your sacrifice for the environment, assuming tehy don't just wreite you off ass an eco-yuppie jackass.
(Inspired by a conversation with Boo)
Living off the grid in Manhattan and blogging about it does not constitute actually living off the grid.
Let me break this down to you:
1. You are living in one of the largest cities in the world. Even if you are not plugged into the electric grid in your own apartment, you are reaping the benefits of the electric grid because you are surrounded by a million other people who are. You enjoy the ambient light, the ambient heat, and the ambient douche-baggery of living in MANHATTAN.
2. YOU ARE THEN FUCKING BLOGGING ABOUT IT!! That negates what few "off the grid" claims you had going for you.
You really want to live off the grid? Fine. Move to the woods, so far out that you cannot see any ambient light from civilization. Split your own wood. Grow and hunt your own food with hand made tools and weapons. Harvest your own natural fibers and sew your own clothes. Build a shelter only using materials you harvested yourself.
When the park rangers find your corpse next spring, they will appreciate appreciate your sacrifice for the environment, assuming tehy don't just wreite you off ass an eco-yuppie jackass.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)
