Crazy (noun) 1 Doing the same thing over and over and expecting different results 2 Internet dating

Crazy (noun) 1 Doing the same thing over and over and expecting different results 2 Internet dating

Monday, March 14, 2011

You Tweet Like a Dickhead (07/19/09)

The internet has been pretty good to me over the years, and although I’m old enough to remember pecking away at my first keyboard when my typing class upgraded to Tandy computers way back in the 80’s, I consider myself pretty proficient at navigating the world wide web now.

I still recall walking into my typing class to find that all the typewriters had been replaced by Tandy Computers. They were big grey monitors with a keyboard attached to them, and we would type out green letters on a black screen. All they were really good for was typing and printing. To me it seemed like a lot of hardware just to get the same result as a typewriter. Sure it saved you the trouble of having to use white out, but without the internet, that was their only advantage.

Although the reality of what computers could do at the time wasn’t as exciting as the imagination of Hollywood, they still represented a future of unparalleled possibilities. Tron, War Games, and The Terminator all showed us what could happen if we let ourselves rely too much on technology. It’s been almost 30 years since those movies prophesized the future world of computers, and instead of destroying humanity, they now let me pay my bills online, buy stupid shit on e-bay, meet women on Craigslist, and find a job on Monster all while watching midgets pee on hamsters. I think that those movies had it backwards; Computers will not usher in the destruction of humanity, but the world WITHOUT computers will.
There was a time when I didn’t know shit about computers, and frankly having a home computer was a frightening prospect. They seemed slow, expensive, and time consuming. Now I can take a computer apart and put it back together, I find myself constantly upgrading my hardware, I’ve taught myself how to use program after program, and even after some trepidations about online dating, I now find myself addicted to social networking. Whenever somebody starts a new social networking site, I’m there. I dig it, hell women don’t really want to talk to me when they SEE me, so what better way for me to get my foot in the door to vagina-ville?

And let’s face it: I’m not the only one. Social networking has become America’s cup of Joe in the morning. It gives us hope in an otherwise hopeless world. Hope of meeting a friend…hope of meeting a partner…and hope that someone out there will simply care enough to listen. But however you choose to use it, the internet is a great forum for one to express their feelings about any topic they choose: its freedom of speech at its extreme. Some people will like what I have to say, some people would just as soon put me in a burlap sack with a few aerobics weights and toss me into the [1]Cal Sag. But, the point is that if I said the shit I say on the internet to a stranger in a bar, or to a co-worker at my job, I’d probably end up being put in a straight jacket and hauled off to the funny farm to spend my days playing ‘tick tack throw’ in plastic shoes.

But through all these years of watching the internet grow, I’ve noticed a sharp decline in civil human interaction. Can you remember the last time that you stopped to look at a movie poster and struck up a conversation with a complete stranger who would go on to become one of your closest friends? Or the last time you went to your neighborhood basketball court and just played a pickup game with some guy who would eventually introduce you to your greatest love? That’s how society USED to work, that’s how REAL networking was done in the world. Now we’ve become a culture of closed doors, headphones, and Bluetooth headsets. Personal space has gone from an arm’s length, to everything within your fucking eyesight.

Today’s world is full of so much mistrust and uncaring hypocrisy that it makes George Orwell’s [2]1984 look like a fucking [3]Highlights magazine. Fear mongering and a violence obsessed news media have made you think that most people would just as soon stab you in the eye as shake your hand. If I was a conspiracy theorist, I would think that e-harmony has paid off the media in an effort to get more people to just meet online.

The sad thing is that this decline in social etiquette DIDN’T just start with cell phones and iPods. Back before there were cars, society was polite because you’d ride around on a ridiculous looking bike, or you’d walk down the boulevard because your house was like a fucking sauna in the heat with no a/c, or you’d take a carriage ride and tip your hat to people and be generally available for conversation with the rogue passerby. Now you drive around with your windows rolled up and the baseline to 'Hammer time' so loud that people think a sonic fucking boom just passed them by. OR, you sit in your house with the a/c on and the windows up, going outside less frequently than [4]J.D. Salinger. As great as our technological advances have been over the years, it seems that every one of them has slowly killed our societal infrastructure.

But are cars, air conditioning and Al Gore truly to blame for our lack of societal propriety? Not really. It’s our general need to be lazy that has given over our collective personality to the internet. Instead of getting all gussied up to go spend copious amounts of money in a bar on the off chance that I’ll meet a woman drunk enough to fondle my scrote for a few minutes, now I can lie in bed and meet someone while alternating between scratching myself and farting. It truly is a wonderful world we live in.

Is the internet better than the real world though? Well, let’s see. Do you find yourself bragging that you have over 2000 friends on face book, when you only have THREE in real life? That may be an indication that you need to get out of the house [5]Brian Wilson.

Even though our day to day human contact consists solely of whiney co-workers or violent drunks that we end up fighting in bars, I think we should make more of an effort to meet people in real life. But at the same time I love the fact that I have this forum with which to bitch and moan. Social networking sites don’t seem to be THAT social, but the ‘networking’ part HAS gotten me closer to finding a girlfriend. So when [6]Ashton Kutcher tells me to check out a new site? You can bet your ass I’ll be profiling like a mother fucker there because that guy knows how to get pussy.

Case in point: Twitter. As douche baggy as it sounded to me at the time, I loved the idea of signing up for this site. As you may know, I’m something of an asshole, and I like letting people know what I’m doing throughout the day in that vein. “Michael Hempen is: masturbating furiously” or “Michael Hempen is: thinking of ways to better hide your body”. Things that make ME laugh, not particularly for anyone else’s sake. THAT’S how people should view these websites. A way for YOU to say something creative that makes YOU laugh, helps you through your day, and if other people read it…so fucking be it. Quit taking it so seriously. As [7]John Wayne said to a group of college students “It’s gettin’ to be re-goddamned-diculous”

MOST people who ‘post up’ on these sites can be more pretentious than that guy who dresses up as ‘Darth Maul’ at a Star Wars convention. He says he’s ‘just doing it for fun’, but he’s got more to prove and a bigger chip on his shoulder than a white midget playing for the Lakers. He couldn’t tell you who the bad guys were in WWII, but he can tell you the sub atomic structure of a fucking midichlorian. He’ll also be all too happy to tell you about the time he had a girl in his moms basement, but what he won’t tell you is that it was when the dryer broke, and the Maytag repair ‘man’ just happened to be a chick. Fuck you ‘Darth Maul’ guy.

So does ANYBODY really care that ‘Sandra Titmouse is: eating an Oreo cookie’ or that ‘Chip McBuffnuts is: just finishing 200 crunchies’ or that ‘Miley Cirus is: Not tweeting anymore’ and then ‘Miley Cirus is: tweeting again’, and then ‘Miley Cirus is: not tweeting again’ AHHHHHHHHH! How about ‘Miley Cirus is: putting a shotgun under her chin’ THAT I wanna read.

That being said, Twitter made me wonder with the joy that ‘what ifs’ can sometimes give you way down in that place that makes you smile to yourself, what would have happened if it had been around when the great writers were? Hemmingway, Burroughs, Hunter S. Thompson, hell even Dickens, Chaucer, Dostoyevsky. People who were famous for actually DOING something, creating something, innovating an idea, and opening people’s eyes to an intelligent intellectual viewpoint…what might they have ‘Tweeted’? “Hunter S. Thompson is: savagely strumming a banjo”, “Fyodor Dostoyevsky is: getting existential on yo ass!”, or “Anthony Burgess is: hating Stanley Kubrick”.

Sometimes I just need to entertain myself because I don’t always feel like watching a movie, reading a hefty tome, or playing the PS3. So in order to occupy my time, I LOVE trying new things. My latest ‘new thing’ is Face book. Several months ago, I gleefully filled out every part of the profile and started throwing shit at my ‘wall’ like a performance artist after a White Castle enema. At first I didn’t care about, nor did I look up any friends. It was just a way for me to release pent up creative energy, which eventually led me to do what you are now reading.
After I put up a few short stories in my notes section, I realized that it was pointless if nobody was going to read them. Like the old question ‘If a tree falls in the woods and nobody is around…who gives a fuck?’ So I started looking people up. As soon as I got a few responses and I started perusing some other people’s walls, I realized just what a fucking loser I was. Everyone had over 200 ‘friends’…I had 3. And one was Tom from MySpace…That little mother fucker is EVERY where. He’s like the ‘Where’s Waldo’ of insipid internet bullshit.

So, now I ‘care’. This sucks for me because when I CARE about something, I’m like [8]Elvis when he died on the toilet. I follow that shit through to the bitter end. So I started pandering for friends. I even started calling people, who DON’T have Face book, and telling them they should sign up. I’m sure that this is the ULTIMATE goal of the Face book team, to eventually dominate the universe through word of mouth. If that’s the case, I put on the Nike’s, donned the black sweats, threw some Phenobarbital in the applesauce and started shepherding people aboard the Face book [9]Hale bop.

I’m up to 27 friends now (yeah, me!), most of whom I know. The nice thing I’ve found is that I now have an opportunity to communicate with old friends whom I’d lost contact with, grade school buddies, High school friends, really good friends who’ve moved on in life, and ex girlfriends who no longer hold a grudge because I had a ‘ball gag’ fetish in my early twenties after seeing Pulp Fiction…don’t ask.

After I started my Facebook page, I began my quest to find a girlfriend on the web, and although I haven’t quite found my internet sweetie yet in the 4 months since I started this online experiment, I keep getting closer. I’ve been on a few dates now, and I even made out with one girl. The shocking thing to me is that I haven’t been rejected yet. I have a specific girl in mind that I’m looking for and none of the women I’ve met have been her, but the internet has put me closer to the playing field than I’d ever thought I’d be with it.

All of my ex girlfriends were girls that I met at the supermarket, work, or the Laundromat. Meeting a woman is the hardest part in the timeline of a relationship, for me anyway. Most women I’ve met in the real world would rather try to tell you their entire life story before you get up to take a leak, than listen to a god damned thing you have to say. Fuckin’ talky bitches. At least if I read a profile first I can take in what a woman has to say about herself, in my own time. The internet affords us that luxury and as long as you don’t bullshit your prospective date about what you look like, the end results can be sextactular.

As I said in the first chapter, at one point I was dead set against meeting women on the internet because it seemed as though I was admitting to my own failure at meeting them in real life. You’d think that after my initial foray into online dating with the larger than life Tiffany, my position would have only been cemented. I was lucky enough to have met a woman soon after that debacle and for the past 2 years I really only needed the internet to check movie show times and occasionally beat off when my girl friend was out of town. But after that relationship ended a few months ago, enough time had passed for me to give online dating another whirl. Even though my ex was great in a lot of ways, and a shitty girlfriend in some: the end of our relationship made me remember that thing most men forget about after a prolonged period of time with a significant other, that thing that makes the world go around and can start or end wars…New Pussy.

There’s nothing quite like a first kiss, is there? Your heart races, you get goose bumps, and an indescribable feeling washes over you and makes you feel indestructible. A swagger returns to your step, you’re nicer to people, and your whole outlook towards life changes. Sure it only lasts until the girl pulls the rug out from underneath you, but in that short time you are a king. THAT’S new pussy. To me, love is a woman that gives you that feeling all of the time; Every kiss is a first kiss, every touch gives you butterflies, and every nut you bust on her belly, back, or face if she’s a trooper, feels like it did the first time. And I’ve yet to find her. My search could have ended many times over if I just wanted to settle on some fat chick who professed her love for me, but I’m stubborn. I know what I want, and the internet allows me to expand on that search.

However, I’m finding that there are women out there who abuse the unspoken online trust, and all that does is bitter me the fuck up to the whole process. The internet isn’t too different from driving a car. It’s a privilege, not a right, and sometimes people abuse that privilege. Much like people who drive like dickheads, there are people who tweet like dickheads. Just like there are assholes who roll through stop signs, there are assholes who listen to music without paying for it. And just like the mother fuckers who drive on suspended licenses, there are mother fuckers who bullshit about everything from their job to their weight, and I gotta say; I’m getting pretty fucking sick of it.

I would never suggest that freedom of speech be taken away from anyone, especially on a forum like the internet. Your opinion is just as valid as mine, and you should be able to go online and bitch about what you choose, worship who you choose, and voice your masturbational preferences. However, saying that you weigh 118 pounds, when you really weigh 318 pounds is NOT an opinion…it’s a fucking lie and it serves no other purpose other than wasting my god damned time.

People lie about all kinds of things when they meet in the real world, but the ONE thing you can’t lie about face to face is what you look like. Sure you can tell me you have a thyroid problem, but then I can counter that lie with the fact that I have a disorder called FCI: Fat Chick Impotence.
When I start talking to women on the internet, I tell them from the git-go that I’m one ugly bastard. I show them the most unflattering pictures of myself that I have. I describe myself as looking like the love child of Herman Munster and Meatloaf. Most times, I find myself lying in the OTHER direction. I tell chicks that I’m uglier than I am so that there is NO chance of them being disappointed when we meet. Why? Because of the 6 dates I’ve gone on since March, I’ve had to disguise an ‘oh-no’ face from 3 of them. Women who blatantly lied about their looks in the hope that I wouldn’t notice or care. Well I did notice, and I DO care.

I don’t consider my honesty as a detriment to the cause. Sure I’ll meet more women, and hotter women if I tell them all that I look like Brad Pitt, but what the fuck is the point? When they meet me they’ll see the harsh reality. All I’m gonna do by lying is make it that much harder for the NEXT guy to gain that girls trust. Then nobody gets laid, and I refuse to be an unseen cockblock. If I cockblock? I’ll be standing RIGHT next to the cockblockee.

But women, especially heavy women, don’t seem to understand that basic premise. When they lie they fuck it up for the next chick. Women who lie about their looks on the internet piss me off, but the other day I came across something that pissed me off even more. I was reading the posts in the ‘women seeking men’ section of Craigslist, when I came across one where a woman was lying FOR her friend. This post, with its patronizing tone and passive aggressive rambling, made me want to beat the shit out of Craig for listing it.

The post was titled ‘come on guys’, and started with a woman telling us that she’s married, but doesn’t understand why the men seeking women on CL haven’t hooked up with her friend. She went on to tell us, without spelling 2 words correctly, what a nice person her friend was (fat), how she loves going out to dinner (fat), and that she’s available 24/7 to meet the right guy (fat).
The body of her post went on to harp on ME, as a man, for being too shallow and narrow minded to find the lovely person trapped inside the body of a whale. Then she scolded men for asking to see a picture of their potential date. She wrapped up her little ‘hook up’ fantasy by trying to guilt me into giving this big bitch a chance. Well, FUCK YOU!

So I wrote this little response to her, and I hope that you enjoy it:

“Dear, you fucking dirt bag, listening to you ramble incoherently makes me want to staple bagels to my face. That poor husband of yours...what he must endure. Are certain keys missing from your keyboard or are you missing fingers? I haven’t seen spelling like this since [10]Tarzan came back to Greystoke Castle. At first I thought I was reading a third graders homework. I imagine that you’re the type of person who is more comfortable writing their ‘R’s backwards in crayon. How does a legally retarded person get a marriage license, anyway?

I assume that at this point in your marriage, 'doggy style' to your husband means whimpering at the bedroom door and peeing on himself a little when you scold him, because if he were a real man, he'd have taught you how to shut the fuck up by now.

Look, in response to your post, it's obvious that your friend doesn't want to do this and you’re pushing her into it so that you can live some kind of sick fantasy THROUGH her. The problem is that...IT’S AN INTERNET FANTASY!! At least, push her into something less humiliating that you can live through, like midnight bowling, or ordering IN at a fast food place instead of using the drive through.

So here you are shoving this fatty on us and laying a guilt trip out that Shatner couldn’t sell on ‘Priceline’. Why is it so wrong to ask for a picture? What you need to realize talky, is that men are generally 'visual' creatures and women are 'mental' creatures. If you haven't figured this out by now, maybe you should seriously reconsider giving advice to anybody. It sounds to me like you have sour grapes up your ass because you couldn’t get [11]The Grimace over there a date.

And what kind of friend ARE you anyway? They recently prosecuted a man who shot a woman in the face, a woman who went to meet him because she answered a post on Craigslist!!! Is this whole thing some passive aggressive way of trying to get rid of your friend? Are you just jealous that she might be enjoying her single life while you’re stuck in a loveless dead relationship where church shoes are now more important than rim jobs? Fuck you. You're a horrible person. I say get over YOURSELF, and leave your friend alone. The reason she's not meeting anyone is because 'good intentioned' friends like YOU, give her low self esteem by putting her on this site like a fucking worm on a hook. Let the bitch be. She'll meet someone when she’s ready, SHE will put herself out there and find the man that’s right for her. Hopefully she’s smart enough to realize that it won’t happen on fucking Craigslist…mainly because bitches like YOU screw it up for the ones who are deserving of a GOOD date by pissing off guys like me who can give one.

Look, I don’t mind that your friend is a fucking fatty, but if you’re too stupid to just come out and admit that in the body of your post, DON’T treat me like I’m a drooling idiot who can’t figure it out through simple deductive reasoning. You can’t say things like ‘men are assholes for wanting to see a picture of my friend’, and expect me NOT to think that this woman is a fucking hippo.

You should thank your fucking stars that you found a man stupid enough to put up with your douchebaggery. I can ONLY hope that you haven’t bred, because between HIS block-headed idiocy of not being able to see through your transparent harpy cuntish demeanor, and YOUR general lack of intelligence (you spelled ‘the’ wrong, for chrissake: it’s not ‘te’), those kids don’t stand a fucking chance.

Now go do some serious shutting the fuck up.”Now, I know that response may have seemed harsh, but fuck her. The only thing that pisses me off MORE than a nagging, self entitled bitch is one who can’t fucking spell.

I have nothing against her friend, and I wish her the best, but I only hope that she ‘nuts’ up and tells this lunatic hag to mind her own fucking business. If you’re going to have someone try to ‘hook you up’, have them do it in a bar, NOT on the internet. You should be able to navigate the internet by yourself.

My point is that if you’re honest with me, I’ll be honest with you. My Facebook profile may not be pretty, but it DOES have the distinction of being wholly honest. Although, I don’t tell ANYone in real life or otherwise, my real age. I DO however tell a woman how old I really am RIGHT before we fuck. JUST at the ‘point of no return’ so she doesn’t have time to think about it.

But believe it or not, the internet has actually given me a desire to grow up a little. Not in a [12]Billy Joel sucks because he stopped drinking, or [13]NIN isn’t as good anymore since Trent got married kinda way, but in a way that makes me see the parts of life that are passing me by. I have friends on Face book that I haven’t seen or heard from in 20 years. They have children, and wives, and careers, and houses. It actually makes me a tad jealous.

Jealous in a way that I hope will push me towards achieving these things for myself. As of now, I have a car that runs, a shit job, a bottle of Jergens, and an apartment with a mouse in it that my dog chases around knocking shit over like in a Tom and Jerry cartoon; One of the GOOD episodes before they changed the maid’s voice from sounding like Mammy in Gone with the Wind to Edie McClurg in Ferris Bueller’s Day Off. I came home the other day to find my dog hiding around the corner from the stove with a broom in her hands and a French resistance uniform on. Suddenly, a mouse wearing a black and white striped long sleeve shirt with a red bandana around his neck poked his head out from under my stove, looked cautiously in both directions, and then ran across the kitchen floor at top speed while carrying a tiny loaf of French bread tucked under his arm. My dog gave chase and a ruckus ensued.

Anyway, I’m kind of cool with things just as they are. I occasionally date someone and they either dig me for who I am, or they don’t. Most times they don’t. I’d rather do it that way then be with someone JUST for the sake of being with someone. But there has to be a line. I’m WAY too critical and I have a childish Rated ‘R’ (R-uh if you’re African American) sense of humor. I’d no more wish to get rid of that part of me than I’d like to give up my Lost Bluray collection. I just have to find a way to sell that part of me in a better light. Like P.T. Barnum said: “Without promotion something terrible happens….Nothing!” So the internet seems like a great way to promote myself.

There’s a girl out there SOME where for me, of that I’m sure. The internet can help me find her, but it’s up to me to be a better man when I get into a relationship. I know I talk a lot of shit here, but let’s face it; It’s my OWN fault that I’m driving down a one way dead end street that leads to masturbationilvania. (Maybe it’s because I say things like ‘masturbationilvainia’?)

One of my biggest problems is that I ‘think’ too much in a relationship. I’m always looking at ways it could end. She’s gonna cheat, I’m gonna cheat, she’s gonna leave the box open on my ‘Fruity Pebbles’ and that’s gonna lead to a fight, her mom’s not gonna like me. All things that are purely in my head.

I think that instead of prosthelytizing the future like the computer movies of the 80’s, I should just let the future unfold. I’m sure that my friend ‘Smart’ Jim could give you a better definition of it, but I know there is a scientific principle which states that you CHANGE something simply by observing it. And that’s EXACTLY what I’ve been doing. I’ve been stepping outside of the relationship and viewing it from a third person point of view, instead of just being IN the relationship.

Bottom Line? It was getting in touch with people I respect on Face book that ultimately now drives my desire for something more from life. We learn a lot from other people, especially people we care about. My life of late has been pretty stagnant when it comes to making new friends. Now that I have a chance to re-kindle old friendships, make new ones, and keep in touch with those who I might not have otherwise, I find my views softening, and my jaded view of ‘what HAS to be’, becoming a more hopeful view of ‘what COULD be’. So thank you Face book. Thank you the internet and Thank you Ashton Kutcher.

But still….Fuck you Darth Maul guy.


[1] The Cal-Sag is a canal used for barge traffic and a conduit used for waste water in southern Cook County Illinois. It’s also a disgusting, smelly, murky waterway that snakes its way RIGHT behind my fucking apartment. Over the years, numerous dead bodies have been discovered dumped in this sewer, and there’s nothing quite like sitting on my balcony and watching the sun rise in the morning with a hot cup of delicious Brazilian Coffee…and seeing a turd the size of a full grown anaconda float by underneath me. Fuck you Cook County.

[2] 1984 is a novel that was published in 1949 by George Orwell. I cannot recommend it enough. The book depicts the future world of 1984 as one of perpetual war, pervasive government surveillance, and incessant public mind control. The individual is always subordinated to the state, and it is in part this philosophy which allows the Party to manipulate and control humanity. Holy shit, I just realized…1984 is about Jerry Bruckheimer. DAMN YOU BRUCKHEIMER!!!

[3] ‘Highlights’ magazine is a children’s magazine that’s been around since 1946 and has surpassed a billion copies in print. I can vaguely remember getting all excited as a child when the mail man would drop off the new issue. Much the same as when I drunkenly wait for the mailman to bring me the new Victoria Secret catalogue now.

[4] Salinger was best known for his novel ‘The Catcher in the Rye’ which was an immediate popular success when published in 1951. His depiction of adolescent alienation and loss of innocence in the protagonist Holden Caulfield was influential, especially among adolescent readers and serial killers. He is also well known for being a helluva recluse. He gave his last interview in 1980, and hasn’t left his house since.

[5] Brian Wilson is the lead vocalist and (mainly) songwriter of ‘The Beach Boys’. Over the years he has suffered a crippling bout of agoraphobia and once stayed in bed for THREE years while chain smoking, doing the pot, and sleeping. The rumor that I heard is that it was the Blues Brothers; Dan Ackroyd and John Belushi that finally got him off his ass and back to reality, but I can’t find any information confirming that. It’s probably one of those half truths, where they visited him, but just snorted some powder and left.

[6] Ashton Kutcher was one of the stars of ‘That 70’s Show’ which ran from 1998 to 2006. I have to say that when the show first aired, I didn’t think much of Kutcher, and as it continued on I fucking hated the kid. Too me, it didn’t seem like he was acting. I imagined that he was just as much of a narcissistic prick in real life, as his character was on the show. BUT, that’s the sign of a GOOD actor, isn’t it? The first movie I saw of his was ‘Dude, Where’s My Car?’ and nobody was more shocked than me, that I fucking loved that flick. But it wasn’t enough to make me think any better of Kutcher. I simply chalked it up to the writing. Over the years he’s been in a myriad of mostly shitty flicks, but THIS year he completely won me over. ‘Spread’ is a sexual comedy where, much like That 70’s Show, it was easy to imagine that Kutcher would act like the character he plays, in real life. But the story was great, the acting was superb, and Kutcher put his own money behind the film to make sure it got made. It was a good decision that won him a fan. ‘Spread’…rent that shit up TONIGHT, watch it with your girlfriend and I guarantee that you’ll be getting a handy halfway through the flick.

[7] Marion Mitchell ‘Duke’ Morrison, better known as John Wayne was mostly known as a tough as nails action western movie star. He lived from 1907-1979 and during his film career made 171 films. Most of the movies he made were shit flicks, but consider that he was most prolific during the 30’s when movies were still trying to find their way. As his career AND the movie industry grew, Wayne would become America’s father figure. Some of his best work can be found in movies directed by John Ford such as Stagecoach, The Searchers, and The Man Who Shot Liberty Vallance. His last film and my personal favorite of Wayne’s was The Shootist in 1976 where he starred opposite a teenaged Ron Howard and Jimmy Stewart. Wayne portrayed an aging gunman dying of cancer who must deal with the prejudices brought on by his fame, his illness, and being a role model to a young boy. In the end he decided to pick a fight so he could go out with a gun in his hand. In the movie Wayne utters one of my favorite lines of all time;” I won't be wronged. I won't be insulted. I won't be laid a-hand on. I don't do these things to other people, and I require the same from them.” Wayne was well known for giving controversial interviews and not really giving a fuck. He was also a fantastic drunk who would troll for pussy with The Tonight Show’s sidekick Ed McMahon. Sometimes I wish I could go back in time and join those two in a bar…oofa.

[8] Although everyone, at this point, knows WHO Elvis was…nobody seems to know what he did other than sing and star in a bunch of shit flicks. Elvis was a practical joker who would toss a monkey into a bedroom while his friends were trying to get laid, he was a momma’s boy, an honorary police officer who would ACTUALLY pull people over and give them tickets, he was a philanthropist who would hand out Cadillac’s like they were nothing, he was a Monty Python fan, a black belt, and he once pulled a gun on Alice Cooper. However, as he aged he got addicted to prescription drugs and became a bad joke in comparison to his former glory. The use of these drugs when combined with his diet of Meatloaf and Fried Peanut Butter and ‘Nana sammiches only brought on more medical complications with in him. On August 16th, 1977, twenty one days after my fourth birthday, Elvis’ 21 year old fiancé found him dead on the floor of the bathroom. Most people assume that his death was caused by a drug overdose, but the coroner’s report states that he died of an impacted colon. He had 32 pounds of undigested meat in that mother fucker and it exploded inside of him, which MORE than explains why he was on the toilet when he collapsed.

[9] IN 1997 Marshal Applewhite, leader of a cult called ‘Heaven’s Gate’, convinced 39 of his followers that they needed to commit mass suicide in order to board a spaceship that he believed was hidden in the trail of the Hale Bopp comet. Personally? If ANYONE is THAT gullible, I say ‘so fucking long’. 39 more parking spaces in the world.

[10] Tarzan is a fictional character created by Edgar Rice Burroughs in 1912. Many see Tarzan as homage to Kipling’s character Mowgli from ‘The Jungle Book’ which was released in 1894. Tarzan was born to a British lord and lady who were marooned on the West coast of Africa by Mutineers. After his mother died of natural causes, his father was killed by a great ape whose tribe would go on to raise Tarzan from an infant and make him one of their own. Because of his upbringing, Tarzan would go on to learn how to communicate with all the animals of the jungle and he would possess superior strength, agility, and often intelligence over his enemies. In his adult years, Tarzan was found by family members who didn’t know that he even existed, and taken back to England where he received a classical education. However the stuffy dipshittery of noble society soon led Tarzan back to the Jungle where he went on to help others and fight crime. Good shit right? Well, in my opinion, the best incarnation of this tale which has included innumerable remakes, retellings, and sequels has to be ‘Greystoke: The Legend of Tarzan, Lord of the Apes’ The movie featured Christopher Lambert (Highlander) in his acting debut and even though it has the stink of 1984 special effects on it, it was still a well acted and engrossing story to behold. Rent it.

[11] Although McDonalds features many characters which make one think of the various foods they sell, I STILL don’t know what the fuck The Grimace is other than a fat purple monster. Someone once suggested to me that Grimace represents milk shakes, but I have yet to see a purple milkshake. Also, The WORD grimace means ‘a contorted twisting of the face that expresses disgust or pain’ and yet The Grimace always has a fucking smile on his face! Fuck you Grimace for antagonizing me with your lack of resemblance to any food stuff and confusing me with your name.

[12] Yes, I like Billy Joel…suck it. Billy was an ugly kid who tried his hand at boxing before going on to become the best song writer of our time. Yeah, I know the argument, I’ve had them many times…’But Mike, isn’t Springstien the best song writer of our time?’ No. Springstien IS a great writer, IF you live in fucking New Joisy, ok? Joel bends the ear of the entire world and his music speaks to me more directly than any other. Maybe I relate so well because I’M an ugly fuck and it warms my heart that this man married the hottest fucking super model of the 80’s. Sure it didn’t work out, but Joel stuck his foot in the door of super model pussy, and maybe he propped it open JUST enough that a douche like me can squeeze through. Thanks Billy, who loves ya? And fuck you Springstein, you STILL seem like any asshole I went to high school with that laughed at nothing, had no personality, but STILL got all the pussy because you played a fucking six string and rambled on about ‘azure skies’ and ‘hometown twat’.

[13] Ah, Nine Inch Nails, my SECOND concert. I sat so fucking far away from the stage; I may as well have watched it with binoculars from my roof. I remember the first time I heard ‘Pretty Hate Machine’…I was dumbfounded. Nothing I’d ever listened to sounded like that, and when an older friend got me into my first bar when I was 18, the punk chicks with pink hair were dancing to the words and industrial beat of Trent Reznor. I’ve never looked back. Those are still my kind of women, and that album enjoys a permanent residence at the TOP of my iPod ‘fuck’ list whenever a young lady deems me fit to be in the presence of her open legs.

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