Well, well, well...what do we have here? It's been a while. But several things have happened. First and foremost, fuck you. Secondly, I have one question: How dare you? Thirdly, I am now, as the french say, un pamplemousse extraordinaire, or for the non educated, a professional writer. Fitty cents a word. That shit adds up in a hurry, but alas, they do not allow cursing in that writing venue. Nor entertainment. Also, all my ethnic slurs were edited out of the last piece I wrote. Even so, it stings to sit here and do this writing for basically free (I could cash in those $3.42 in google ad marketing I have gathered up over the years, but as Sylvester Stallone says, "UGIUBSI SIUBS") with only my mind to offer feedback.
So, before I get into the meat of this, I have some rules:
1. If you read this, give a comment.
2. In the aforementioned comment, defend which is better, the ninja, or the ninja assassin.
3. Send me a self addressed, stamped envelope with $7 in it. No Ponzi scheme or anything, I would just like to see how much cash I can accumulate.
4. Offer your counterarguments or explanations to the things I have said. Your counterarguments, sadly, will be wrong.
5. I will be writing at minimum on this forum, weekly, unless I join a gladiator troupe and am mauled by lions. If nothing from me, assume the mauling occurred.
Thank you for observing these rules, and Happy Reverse Ramadan- where you eat all day while the sun is up (sponsored by Old Country Buffet).
First, a part of a conversation that was heard Easter weekend by myself and my sisters, as completed by me (the first two lines are the truthy ones)
Guy1: So he calls 911...
Guy 2: The guy who shot him???
Guy 1: Fuck you.
Guy 2: Let's wrassle.
It really is amazing some of the things that you can hear people saying just standing somewhere, or riding on public transportation, or dressed as a character from your favorite anime game. People either legitimately think that others cannot hear them, or really have some of the most outlandish stories and choose to tell them within earshot of others.
When driving home to Louisville recently, I heard a radio station near Indianapolis implore me to stay tuned for the DJ PAUL BUNYAN M-M-M-M-MEGA MIX. I don't really understand why the announcer for DJ PAUL BUNYAN had such a horrible stutter trying to get out the word mega, or why the radio station insists on letting the man with the stutter announce their world famous DJ's with their wacky literary names. But what I r-r-r-r-r-really don't understand is the DJ name chosen by this man. Paul goddamn Bunyan? Now I know DJ names or the choice of career as a DJ is in and of itself an odd career path, but choosing Paul Bunyan as your DJ name would have to be rather circuitous. DJ's are known for yelling things out during their mixes, I know this from totally on the up and up downloading rap songs in college, where inevitably you would have to put up with a DJ yelling things throughout the song simply because you legally procured the song and paid all appropriate licensing rights. These DJ's would yell things like, "EXCLUSIVE!" "NEW SHIT!" "HEAVY HITTER" "THIS IS FOR MY STREET SWEEPERS" (who has their own street sweepers?) "FELL OFF" All of these, I am quite sure are rap terms I probably do not understand, nor should I, nor do I want to. Unfortunately, I was no longer in the area by the time I could have potentially h-h-h-h-heard DJ Paul Bunyan's awesome spinning, but I can only imagine the things this man would have loved to yell "SHOUT OUT TO BABE THE BLUE OX", "AXES", "FLAP JACK HOCKEY RINK REMIX", "FLANNEL THIS BITCH". I would only think that if the man moved on to DJ in a larger city like Chicago, he would change his name to a more familiar literary character like DJ AMELIA BEDILIA and her exclusive WACKY REMIXES.
And finally a commentary on society. Today as I took my normal train ride home from work, I arrived at my destination. Soon after I would see one of the most puzzling things I have ever seen: The narrow one person wide escalator next to the spacious staircase was not working. Yet, it was loaded with people. PEOPLE OF THE WORLD, WHEN AN ESCALATOR IS BROKEN, IT IS A FLIGHT OF STAIRS. Morons. I personally opted for the staircase. And gave the finger to all the idiots on the escalator. Also, I am afraid of escalators, so I have that going for me.
So party people, click on the ads surrounding this blog, preferably a few million times, follow my rules, and I will see you next week. I promise or something. Also, if anyone wants to be my agent and find me a patron who will pay me for my humorous writing, I will give you a generous 15% cut. I'm serious about that. Sell my words. I can always come up with more. Really, I can make up words with the best of them. I think I have nearly matched Shakespeare thus far.
