Wednesday, February 02, 2005

State of the Union

On the eve of the Big Dummy’s big speech, I thought today might be as appropriate a day as any to start up my very own “blog”. What’s that you say? How could I just now be starting up my blog??? Good point.

I probably should just skip straight to podcasting so you can take my actual voice with you on the subway. I could be right there in your head, just you and me as you try to avoid the soulless stare of the rapist/mugger sitting across from you. All you wanted to do was to make it safe-and-sound to your temp job, earbuds firmly wedged in your ears, while someone, anyone prattles on about how they ate 4 bowls of lucky charms this morning or how funny it is to see Verne Troyer drunk and naked on his Rascal. Yeah, well, sorry to disappoint you. That is how life works. You are going to be raped/mugged without the benefit of ever having heard my angelic voice, and I am going to start with this, a blog. And no, I don’t know how to insert pictures or include links or any of it yet. So if you don’t like that, well tough titties.

So, now that we’ve dispensed with the unpleasantries, let’s get down to brass tacks. What’s the deal? Why am I writing this? Why are you reading this? Well, seeing as this is blog # 88,990,241 out of a possible 100 billion, you probably aren’t. Or if you are (Whaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaa?), be sure to “write in” to tell me how unoriginal my snarky little existential dear diary observations are. Either way. Who cares. The important thing is that I heard somewhere about how you may be able to make like $4 a month by having people’s eyeballs pass over such regurgitation every so often. I’ll have to work on seeing how you get that spigot turned on. Perhaps that can be one of my first “interactive” features, someone can tell me how to go about pulling down a few bangers from this pathetic cry for attention. Doesn’t get much more American than that does it… dreaming of becoming famous and cashing-in on one’s perceived “talent”?

Speaking of American and cashing in, back to the Big Dummy (no, not Shaq, the other one; the smirking wealthy fratboy). Perhaps he can provide an appropriate mooring for this, my virginal stream of consciousness-turned-actual-posted-text. What is my little corner of the interweb to be like? Who am I anyway? Will I ever write another word after this post? All in good time gentle readers. All in good time. Sufficeth to say, I am a human (male), an American (U!S!A!, U!S!A!), I live in a “blue state” (read: a state with a handful more self interested assholes who listen to NPR than bible toting corn cobs/nazi businessmen), and I am quietly, subcutaneously, growing more and more angry.

And, if your anything like me, you too are a college educated, under/non-employed liberal arts major who watches TV constantly, has a crushing student loan burden, and is just "smart" enough to like to keep up on “current events”, yet not so smart as to ever actually read a book. You will probably tune in to The State of the Union tonight for a few laughs and because it is preempting Fear Factor or Double Dare or whatever the fuck poison you usually choose to while away the precious minutes of your miserable life. And, also, somewhere down deep, you can’t quite kick that gnawing, acrid feeling in your stomach; unable to comprehend how it is exactly that a bunch of humanpigs and used car dealers could actually be running The Show.

Well, tune in tonight, then watch Chris Matthews or Ched Choppel or whoever beat the horse to death, then dial me up tomorrow to see if I actually write again.

1 Comments:

Anonymous Anonymous said...

Hey, dude, why are you so ANGRY? You really need to take a "chill" pill. And then smoke some weed, or have sex, or both. Your words are like weapons of mass "obstruction" to my brain, and face, and head. I like your blog though.

7:41 AM  

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