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I despise bad grammers, uh, grammas, er, grammar (yeah, that's it!) and sloppy writing. So if you can't tell me the difference between your and you're, then you need to go the fuck away. Now.
I have a fondness for high explosives and cheese, which due to my inherited intolerance for lactose, have many similarities.
I am so badass that I DO simply walk into Mordor.
I am of the opinion that all religion is bullshit. All of it.
Karma is a bitch. So is your mom.
I have learned the hard way that it is never a good idea to date the faculty and staff of the college/university that you attend. Otherwise, you'll be doing a lot of transferring.
I do not own a cell phone. I have no intention of ever buying one. My son gave me a cell phone for Christmas. Dammit... I will not buy an iPod (or any Apple product), knit shirts or Dockers, or Precious Moments figurines.
I don't give a fuck about the Spurs, or any sports team for that matter. Once teachers and scientists make more money than professional athletes, I might be able to work up some mild interest. But I doubt it.
I hate spam, and the people who mail it out. If you spam me, I will be obligated to hunt you down and provide a sound thrashing.
I prefer drink over juice. Especially grape drink.
I will never wear a cowboy hat (again). NEVER.
I smoke, and I enjoy the habit, too. I'm sensitive to those who don't however, and I try to be considerate about their exposure. Don't be a wuss and whine about it, though.
I am most prone to scratching when I have an itch.
Things do NOT happen for an over-arching, grand "reason" - they happen because of previous events occurring in local space/time as a chain reaction, as well as regionally introduced external stimuli, none of which are controlled by some unseen and guiding hand. The human mind has a strong need to apply meaning to events, not to mention finding an excuse for their own screwed up decisions, and this is what creates that illusion of things happening for a "reason." This does not invalidate any meaning you choose to apply to each event, however. Whatever gets you through the day.
I have found (through trial and error) that of all the small dogs, the Jack Russell terrier is the best eatin'.
The probability that I'm smarter than you is quite high - fortunately for all concerned, I'm also quite lazy, and can't work up the enthusiasm needed to dominate all time, space and dimension.
I know a lot of big words. I'm pretty hot shit with the small ones, too.
I like candy. A LOT. You could probably get me to do pretty much anything short of murder for a crapload of Spree or Sour Skittles.
At some point, I will make fun of you. Take that as a given. You are quite welcome to make fun of me as well, and I'll probably join in.
I rarely get mad. I am, however, constantly annoyed.
I believe that Pepsi kicks ass. So does coffee.
I have a son who is way cooler, smarter, and much more confident than I was at his age - he's a Boy Scout, plays the cello (and has been asking for a bass guitar), is as big a smartass as I am now, and he kicks my butt at Halo, Halo 2, and Halo 3. But I can throw rocks with my feet. So there.
Most of the time, I'm full of shit. But you've probably guessed that by now.
Everything is a gift. The point is not asking who gave it to us or why we have it - the point is to use it well, with passion and courage while we have it.
Some ugly truths:
Relationships do not make "Life" worthwhile. Relationships are only a small part of existence, and due to the subjective nature of individual reality, are always teetering on the edge of redefinition. Relationships should inform and color your life, but they should not be the focus and center, especially romantic relationships.
There are three television shows that have done extensive and wide-ranging damage to American culture and society - Sex And The City, Friends, and American Idol.
Sex And The City has made it acceptable to be a self-centered, fashion-obsessed skank who constantly bemoans the lack of datable men. Here's a clue for you - most men aren't attracted to fashion-obsessed skanks, so patterning yourself after one of those women in that god awful program will doom you to a life of one-night stands and shallow pursuits. Those characters are frightening and pathetic, and if you were to meet them in real-life, they would not give a shit about you unless you were necessary to fill an immediate need. And if I hear one more woman say, "I'm just like Carrie, and my friend is just like Samantha," or some other pathetic attempt at correlating their existence to these fictional characters, I WILL kick them in the ass, chivalry be damned.
Friends wasn't a horrible program, but it wasn't great either, and there lies the essential problem. It was at best witty in spurts, but for the most part was below average in humor, performance, scripting and directing. Yet it was hugely popular among an audience that is now the target market for the media, and the expectation of lesser quality in entertainment is now the norm. The standard set by Friends is directly to blame, and for that, the producers of the show should burn in Hell for all eternity.
American Idol deserves all the blame for the recent flood of reality shows, most of which feature ordinary people being absolute fucktards. It is also responsible for the rise of the shallowly talented celebrity, for despite what some may think and say, "interpreting" a song isn't truly a talent. Talent is crafting a song, THEN performing it. For several decades, the music industry had managed to get away from the promotion of the cover singer and devoted resources to the singer-songwriter, providing support for actual artists. Now we're once again inundated by singers who do nothing more than sing. And that sucks.
One book is not sufficient evidence to substantiate any kind of claim, unless it's proof that some people will believe anything.
Ghetto as a cultural and lifestyle choice was cool for about three months in 1976. Now it's just fucking stupid, much as it was before those three months.
Physical beauty will only get you so far for so long. There is nothing more pathetic than an aging pretty boy/girl who doesn't know how to do anything else but BE pretty.
No one ever finds the love of their life - you just end up finding the person who pisses you off the least.
If you've gotten this far, then it is incumbent upon me to inform you that I have a crapload of paying publishing credits, and that I am accustomed to being recompensed for my work. You owe me $25.