I sit in utter horror as Mom talks to cuss about school, not telling him what to do, but giving him friendly advice, while taking time out to discuss if this sushi is better than the kind they had on their last vacation. So how is Dad doing?

What kind of fucking asshole treats their kid like they know anything? Eating sushi at 12 and wearing a tie? Fuck you and your perfect life (so what if Daddy and Mommy don’t live together, you probably get your own arcade at home and get to see what happens when the train goes behind the wall).

Treating children as our equals gives them the respect that they should be earning all throughout their twenties as they get into and out of drugs, knock up a couple of broads and steal the car at least once, crashing it in TJ.

Remember how much pussy Alex P Keaton got? NONE. Parents treating their children as equals will amount to the next generation’s Jerry Springer fodder, and is therefore dismissed.

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Well take it from me, Fartbonging is wrong. While there are several things that could go right with it, there is also the potential for this to happen, and the next thing you know you are punching the wall next to the toilet as you think GOD DAMN YOU FARTBONGING! HOW COULD I NOT HAVE SEEN IT COMING!

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Now the site has grown into a full on social networking device ala undies only club V 3.0. You can read all about the exploits of these fantastically insightful “models” or the general public in the skinhead forums. You can try and spank it to pictures of girls who look completely bored at the rigors of showing up for their own cute themed photo sets (Oh look at you! You’re holding a guitar! Totally rock and roll!), but you might find your eyes rolling over in their sockets from the over-display of irony and youthful stupidity before they have the chance to be rolling over from sweet sweet pleasure.

If your idea of perfect beauty is Betty Page, you might be in love with this site. If that’s the case though I suggest you sequester yourself on an island somewhere. You can still have the internet, that’s what it’s for, to keep the retards removed.

I digress, Suicide Girls, you’re boring, stupid and vapid. At best you’re cute, boring, stupid and vapid, and you can’t hold a candle to a fifi that never opens its mouth. The worst thing to ever happen to porn was the idea that we should hear what the models are thinking.

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1. BEST /train PERIOD

2. I can run forward and backup into taller races crotches over and over again and its fucking funny

3. I can actually run underneath things that other races can’t

4. I have short little stubby fingers and toes.

5. What else you gonna play? A Blood Elf? OMG totally lame.

6. When I get into PUGs I totally run around in circles and emote /s tee hee ( I don’t, but it would be rad and it just wouldn’t work with a tauren)

6 fucking reasons why gnome hating should stop ASAP. I would probably have more if I was drunk. Speaking of which, Number 7, gnomes being smaller have a lighter tolerance for in-game alcohol, therefore gnomes get drunker faster.

BOOM!

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Something happened in 2008 that injected the idea into the public consciousness that bacon is the solution to all of your problems. I am quite sure this notion started with Paula Dean’s fat, ignorant mouth. All of a sudden, everyone on the internet was a bacon connoisseur, fat dudes left behind trying to make the ultimate game party dip and instead opted for frankenbacon monstrosities. But the real problem with bacon? The fucking hipsters man.

Overnight (or at least over 365 of them) it became so fucking cool to think that every food item needed to be attached to bacon and lots of it. Bacon is truly to be celebrated, but its strength lies in restricted use. I don’t give a shit about how your friend makes the best bacon tea, or a bacon salad with strips of bacon for the greens and garnished with tiny bacon bits made of lettuce. You can’t make a turducken out of straight bacon. You sound like an asshole eating a sandwich over a starving kids head when you, along with everyone you know won’t shut up about bacon. So shut the fuck up about bacon already.

“This message brought to you by the Responsible Use of Bacon Partnership of America”

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Twitter took the reciprocal of the insult “You ever think anything you don’t say?” and made a business model out of it.

No one cares what you are doing right now, unless you are doing it to them, with no pants on.

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Nothing makes me fucking crazy like looking at everyone in the world creating an exciting virtual life filled with attractive people that I am not taking part in, and I’m a DOCTOR for shit’s sake! It’s the best way to make sure you wind up covered in chicken gravy, masturbating and crying in the bathtub shortly after a breakup at 4 am. Fuck it, I don’t need to have a page that boils my life down to media that I consume, and 500 people who agree with me just so that I can maybe fuck some dumb broad that thinks that the 80’s are awesome, cause she was born in the middle of them. Fuck you right to hell social networking.

You know who is behind the “social networking is cool” trend? Computer people. You know what else is dominated by computer people? COLLECTORS. Social Networking is nothing but geeks (not the lovable geeks of the 80’s movies, the new geeks wear those flaming dragon button up shirts and date rape your mom on Girls Gone Wild) who are FRIEND COLLECTORS. It used to be that the worst thing that could happen to you on a blind date was dodging some halitosis at the end of the night after a fine meal of Sizzlers, now you have to worry about WAKING UP FUCKING ENCASED IN PLASTIC so that you can be admired for all time, or until UV light makes your coloring fade a little.

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I just took my last final, and my Muslim hating twat of an instructor lost the entire last batch of homework I turned in. It’s only 11:24 AM, but that is not going to deter me from shedding the haze of sobriety that has stiffled my (almost) every waking moment for the past few months. For the next three weeks, I plan to make the gutter my home, snuggle up with the white haired and bearded homeless man who sleeps in the alley behind my hovel of an apartment, and make sexual advances at the crazy cat woman who, while she does not live in the alley, she spends an awful lot of time back there hanging out with the cats. I will make nothing but bad decisions this holiday break, and I will relish each and every one. So long sobriety! Pooooooooooooooooooffffffffffff.

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I went to a show a few weeks ago, and the newest big thing out of Silverlake was playing. They sort of one-upped the old band trick of having a hot girl play keyboards, by having two hot girls play keyboards. Both of these broads were wearing little tiny leather headbands. They looked like LARPERS from a Never Ending Story specific universe.

When I went to find photos on the internets about headbands, I found this piece of copy which really states the argument for dismissal better than I ever could:

“Wearing headbands is the easiest way to obtain a hippie chic. Many celebs from Elle Machperson to Mischa Barton, Ashley Simpson and Nicole Richie were seen wearing this instant style piece. You can team up the headband with a pair of wide leg jeans and bohemian tunic or kaftan. Another way to look the ultimate glam hippy is pairing the headband with a flowy maxi dress.”

Flowy and maxi are not two words I would ever put together unless I was talking about cunt gravy, which only happens on Easter Sunday. But I digress, the point is, Fuck You and your stupid headband. You have been dismissed.

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Look, just because you don’t know the answer to something doesn’t mean you get to just make shit up. My floor was dusty this morning, but I didn’t go and seek funding to tell people about the physical manifestation of sin that blankets my apartment in the form of dust each night after my nightly self gratifying “sessions”. I didn’t even go the other way and try and raise awareness about the gazoomaboofs, small troll-like creatures with vacuum cleaner snouts instead of noses who wait until I am asleep every night and clean up all the dust on my floor before I awake, but who have apparently now gone on strike for higher wages, more twinkies, and mandatory slave-leia posters in the breakroom. You know why I didn’t do those things?

Oh yeah because they are ridiculous suggestions, but no more so than believing in god, and that “he” invented the universe, with billions of planets, stars, large expanses of chemically reacting gasses, just so that he could put life on one (or maybe a few) planet, where he would develop complex ecosystems involving microscopic organisms all the way up to large terrestrial creatures, and everything inbetween that are all interconnected, many of which have no (direct) effect on the human beings who also live on this planet, and to whom the entire universe owes its credit, because the entire point of the universe is for god to hide himself from us, and wait and see if we believe in him. Then when we die he jumps out from behind the gates of heaven and says “Tah-dah!”

Look, you should be fucking ashamed and embarassed to even admit that you beieve in fairy tales like this, but then to try and challenge the discipline of science, that must follow rigorous standards and methodology, that your delusions are somehow “equal” to what has been able to, if not “proven”, to be at least be highly probable, really instead of people giving you funding they should have thrown you in a hole somewhere. You know why people believe in god? Because people a long time ago believed in god. Think about some other wisdoms from the ancient world that we rely on today. On yeah, we don’t because we have largely realized that people thousands of years ago were borderline retarded.

So please, keep your conspiracy theories about intelligent design down in your creepy southern basement where they belong, and maybe, I dunno, fucking educate yourself?

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