Christmas

There are many conflicting accounts on the birth of Christ. Historically, read them and weep, bitches, Jesus is real. You heard that right, historians wrote about him, even before they had blogs. He himself did not write anything, preferring the spoken word. However, Matthew, Mark, Luke and John all contributed to ‘1001 Things I Love’, the first ever blog. Back to the birth of our Lord and Savior and why I hate Christmas, it was that time in the middle of BC and AD where they decided to not keep track when He was born. His mother, Mary, had a virgin birth (a tradition kept alive to this day by Catholic schoolgirls). Joseph, who had never laid a hand (more likely a penis) on his soon-to-be-wife, hired a private detective to get to the bottom of it. He never did, and now we are left with a religion that hinges on books written with more holes and conflicting information than any other ever published.

Regardless, Jesus went on to be a great teacher and brought us some of the greatest words of wisdom ever written, ones that would make our lives perfect should we only abide by them. Instead, we decided to destroy entire civilizations, appropriating any cause we felt the notion to uphold at the time, in His name. But in the dickest move of the last 2000 years, He delivered unto us the end of the world, without giving us a date as to when it will come (this is why He has topped my Biggest Dick list five years in a row and is my personal hero.) In the name of Jesus Christ, bringer of wisdom, destroyer of demons, who died for our sins, we shall set aside one day each year to honor him. This blog is about the one holiday I hate most, Christmas.

Not even a paragraph away, I still find it awesome that doomsday slowly balances above our heads, dropping low to whisper in our ears, “What, bitch? Should I end it now, make you wait, oh, yeah, that’s my decision. Not tellin’.” When doomsday comes, it will hit you in the balls, laugh, then hit you in the balls again. The same can be said for Christmas, only it hits you in the ass, laughs, then hits you in the ass again. Christmas is a bullshit holiday that no one can even remember why it is celebrated. Kids think it is about some old, fat guy in a red suit. Teens think it is about new cell phones that they can take naked pictures of themselves on to send to their boyfriends of one week and get upset when they hit the internet after the breakup. Parents, well, who the hell knows what they are thinking. My great-grandmother had it all figured out. She gave each of her great-grandchildren a dollar. Trust me, that is a lot of money. It also brings me to the “thought that counts” bullshit.

Why is a gift about the giver? You notice this shit? People buy you a gift because they want to be the one who gave you something you wanted, so they can feel special because they bought it. Even worse, sometimes they buy you something they wanted you to have, even though you didn’t want it. Why don’t they just buy it for themselves? But it’s the thought that counts, right? Well, I’ve thought about it and I’m pretty sure you can go fuck yourself with the present you wanted, but bought for me to feel less guilty about wanting it for yourself. If you would have admitted that to begin with, no complaints. But you didn’t.

You see, people are selfish and care about themselves more than anything. In fact, the only reason people care about their kids is because genetics forces them to. If you don’t care for your kid, you cannot pass on your DNA and die. In short, and because I promised I would make my blogs shorter for the reading impaired, quit pretending Christmas is all about others. It’s all about yourself. What did you get for Christmas?

Wal-Mart(s)

There is no need to do a long paragraph about Wal-Mart. You already know what it is. Hell, China does, too. What you do need to know is that this blog originates from the state of Kentucky. Why is that important? Well, allow me to tell you. People from Kentucky are some of the stupidest people in the world. To make us look smart, we boast statistics like this: “Percentage of high school graduates in college, vocational/trade school, the military, or currently employed? 95.27%” That’s about as slick as saying, “Percentage of living people in Kentucky still breathing? 100%”

There are other statistics to brag about, Kentucky has a higher percentage of tooth loss than the National Hockey League. Kentucky has 100% of its public water systems fluoridated.* Kentucky has more horses than people. Kentucky has more horse carriages than horses. Kentucky grows more marijuana than everyone else, combined. Kentucky has more high horses in carriages than marijuana. Even more amazing as how we invent things, such as measuring distance in time (Wal-Mart is ten minutes from here) and adding an s to every store (which makes up for us dropping the g on words that end in –ing, so Wal-Marts is ten minutes from here.) Now don’t get me wrong, we are finally above the national average in graduation rates, and we’re certainly not as stupid as Nevada, but I assure you, one stay in Kentucky will confirm that we do have a percentage of our population that stands out as the dumbest people on the planet.

Rather than go on and on, I present you a list:

12 Ways to Not Get Shot By Me, by me.

01 Don’t go to Wal-mart(s).

02 Don’t get bent out of shape because you were behind me and I took “your” parking spot. First come, first serve. Just ask your girlfriend.

03 Don’t pretend like it is your cart when it is clearly next to me and I have items in it and a loaded gun in my hand.

04 Don’t reach for the same item I am when there is an entire shelf of them. I’m going to hit you in your teeth after I hit your boyfriend in the teeth. Then I’ll shoot you.

05 Don’t run out of the aisle not expecting to run into someone with a loaded gun.

06 Don’t bring your bratty, unbathed, filthy kid. I’ll be tempted to shoot you.

07 Don’t bring yourself when you’re covered in filth and smell like the bathroom of Goldstar Chili. I’ll be even more tempted to shoot you.

08 Don’t walk like a penguin and make sure you walk in straight lines. This annoys me and I will shoot you.

09 Don’t cut me in line, especially if you are buying gift cards. I’m already over on the 20 Items Or Less and will be forced to lose the bullets.

10 Don’t argue with me in Spanish (or any other language I don’t know), because I will assume you called my mom a whore and shoot you.

11 Don’t brag about having a gun. Everyone does. You’re in Wal-mart(s) where they sell them.

12 Shoot yourself first, that way I won’t have to.

That is why I hate Wal-Mart.

*These statistics in no way correlate. Repeat, in no way, shape or form does fluoride eat away at enamel, bone, or any other calcium-based part of your body and slowly destroy it. In fact, despite Kentucky’s percentage of fluoridated water being the highest and matching the amount of tooth loss, as well as incidences of high blood pressure, high cholesterol, osteoporosis, etc. etc. there is no link to fluoride and ill health effects. Nothing to see here.

Final Exams

According to the Department of Labor, people who earn a college bachelor’s degree make $1,000,000 (one- million-dollars) more in their lifetime than someone without one. Add another million to that if you get a master’s degree, and I didn’t bother to look up a PhD, so we will pretend it is ten times that. For those of you who make $20,000 dollars a year, you’re probably contemplating suicide; college is a better alternative and not as hard as you’re probably thinking. Yes, even after taxes, that’s a lot of money.

There are a few things that I hate about college. For one, they have a general core. I don’t hate that, as it is basically two English classes and a Speech class and a Math class, all of which will help you with all of your other classes. Then you have the liberal arts core. Then the diversity core. I’m pretty sure this is leading deeper and deeper into your ass, because this is all a crock of shit.

Liberal arts degrees are for people who have no clue what the hell they want to do with a college degree. There is no shame in it; it actually helps round you out as far as an education goes. However, if I know what I want to do for the rest of my life, American History isn’t going to help me breed Spanish horses. Still, the liberal arts core (which comprises over a quarter of the classes you need for a bachelor’s,) is lauded as required for teaching students to be diverse and open-minded. Then they force you to take a diversity core. Okay, free-thinkers, open your minds to other cultures that we are forcing you to study. Better yet, study them from a distance, because we don’t want them coming to our schools. You would think they would prefer you spend your focus on whatever field you plan on going into, but out of the 120-130 credit hours schools require 45 of them to be on a major. You read that correct, the majority of your college career will be spent studying something you never wanted to, something the school made you.

Finally, we get to finals. Allow me to paint a scene where finals will play out in real life. All of your life you have studied to be Dr. House. Perfecting your gimp leg, looking like the guy from Beastmaster on crack, smoking crack, and being eccentric have all paid off and you are trying to diagnose a patient with a rare and crippling disease. Is it: a) Septic Arthritis b) Creutzfeldt-Jakob Disease c) Guillain Barre Syndrome d) Lupus e) None of the above. You decide it has to be b) Creutzfeldt-Jakob Disease. The family immediately wants a definition of the disease with the underlying symptoms. The medical board wants an essay on why you think it is Creutzfeldt-Jakob Disease, discussing your three major points as to why it is this disease, how to treat it, and a bibliography of all sources used. They will get back to you within two weeks. This is how relevant finals are to the career you have decided to go into. Why should anyone have to remember a bunch of shit they will never use again?

Now I propose a new idea, tentatively titled the Final Solution. Remember how some textbooks had questions at the end of the chapters? Why not just have students answer them as they finish each chapter, thus putting an end to the finals once and for all. In doing this, I present to you the above paragraph as done by the same doctor who used the Final Solution. All of your life you have studied to be Dr. House. Perfecting your gimp leg, looking like the guy from Beastmaster on crack, smoking crack, and being eccentric have all paid off and you are trying to diagnose a patient with a rare and crippling disease. You Google the symptoms and realize it is not a) Septic Arthritis. You further your Google the symptoms and realize it is not c) Guillain Barre Syndrome. In a last ditch effort, you even further Google the symptoms and realize it is not b) Creutzfeldt-Jakob Disease. You finally Wiki d) Lupus and realize that obsessive blogging about pointless and useless things is a symptom, coming to the conclusion that it is indeed what you are looking for. The family immediately wants a definition of the disease with the underlying symptoms, which you tell the to find by Googling Lupus Wiki. After spending hours reading my blogs, they hit the back button and select the second link on the search page, Lupus Wiki. The medical board does not question your medical degree from FU and even if they did you would get angry and shoot all of them, then blog about how you murdered seven people and saved someone from Lupus, all in the name of medicine.

Now if you are sent to the chair and executed for murdering the medical board, please come back and confirm if there is an entrance exam to get into heaven. If so, I will blog about that.

Richwood, KY

It is rare that I hate something with so much passion (see entries 1-6), but finally I have found something. A little background. As a child, I had problems hearing. After a successful doctor visit, it was decided that I had to have my adenoids taken out due to an infection. I remember going into the operating room and being gassed as the doctors partied like it was 1939. I was later fished from the river Ohio and I woke up later to apple juice and a small collection of red fire trucks from the nurses. I went on to lead the Convingtonians away from the evil pharaoh of Cincinnati, but I loved doing that, so no need to cover it here. Back to the hospital, I was left with a void. I had no adenoids and would later grow up with week math skills. The question that always haunted me was “where are my adenoids?” Follow me on an investigative blog to the truth about organ donation.

Nothing pisses me off more than what the Egyptions started millennia ago. Yes, out of spite, I spelled their name wrong. The Egyptionianthals, those who predated the Egyptions, thought organ transplants could save lives. To do this, they decided to place organs of famous people in mason jars (made of brick at the time, hence the name). The problem with this was that the little rubber seal on a mason jar only lasted a few years, thus the organs were no good after that. To further insult them, the Egyptions built houses in the desert. Oh, I wonder how their kingdom fell? Moving along, today organ donation is big business. So much that people are harvesting kidneys from Mexicans. One kidney will get you across the border with a green card. I decided to do a little research and found the Top Ten Myths about Organ Donation from the Mayo clinic. Rather than post the myths and reality segment and boost the number of hits their site gets, I will instead post their myths, followed by my personal opinions on them.

Myth- If I agree to donate my organs, my doctor or the emergency room staff won't work as hard to save my life. They'll remove my organs as soon as possible to save somebody else.

Reality- This happens all the time on ER. Even George Clooney let someone die in order to save two people. While I respect anyone who can make this decision and only on television does such an instance occur where two people need transplants and some unlucky organ donor is on the table dying, this man obviously never read this blog before he signed that card. Character on a TV show or not, I apologize for procrastinating.

Myth- Maybe I won't really be dead when they sign my death certificate. It'll be too late for me if they've taken my organs for transplantation. I might have otherwise recovered.

Reality- In an episode of the Twilight Zone, this very thing happened. Well, a guy was dead, couldn’t move and all we heard were his thoughts and how everyone ignored him, until he let out a single tear and the organ extractor realized he was still alive. Even recently, a guy in the news they thought was in a coma wasn’t, for over twenty years!

Myth- Organ donation is against my religion.

Reality- Okay, how is this arguable?

Myth- I'm under age 18. I'm too young to make this decision.

Reality- This isn’t a fucking myth. It’s a law. Since when did the Mayo Clinic start hiring military recruiters to write for them?

Myth- I want my loved one to have an open-casket funeral. That can't happen if his or her organs or tissues have been donated.

Reality- I assure you, if you read the reality behind “myth” 1, and you used the half a brain you haven’t donated to marijuana research already, there is no need for that funeral. Just don’t sign that card.

Myth- I'm too old to donate. Nobody would want my organs.

Reality- The original script to the 2002 film, They, written by Brendan Hood and then rewritten to not resemble the original script, involved a race of organic machines who harvested body parts off of humans. However, this film was never produced, and instead we had an awesome film bombarded with horrible acting and plot holes, making it a less than enjoyable one. In short, these beings, protected by Hollywood devil-worshipers, will take any and all organs.

Myth- I'm not in the greatest health and my eyesight is poor. Nobody would want my organs or tissues.

Reality- You don’t’ take care of your own health and you want to help someone else with theirs? Please do not donate your brain. The costs to find it will be more than the transplant.

Myth- I would like to donate one of my kidneys now, rather than wait until my death. But I hear you can't do that unless you're a close family member of someone in need.

Reality- I have two answers to this myth. One, the reality is that the one in need of that kidney will be you when one fails, dumb ass. We can survive with one kidney, yet we have two. I’m pretty sure it was intended for you to keep both of them in case one of them quit. Second, you’re donating your kidney to companies that sell chili. Learn to read.

Myth- Rich, famous and powerful people always seem to move to the front of the line when they need a donor organ. There's no way to ensure that my organs will go to those who've waited the longest or are the neediest.

Reality- Organ donation is a scam. It’s a big money one, too. In fact, the 2002 film, They, was financed completely from the harvested organs of college students, Mexicans and cans of chili.

Myth- My family will be charged if I donate my organs.

Reality- You’ll be dead, so why do you care? Normally, people are only charged for “donating” their sexual organs. Sadly, they’re usually charged twice. $20 the first time, Soliciting the second.

Myth- Ancient organic machines, who run the world and harvest organs from the living and the dead, have covered up their secret existence and their link to organ donation, all while making their existence seem completely fictional because Wes Craven had the script to the 2002 film, They, rewritten to suck.

Reality- It’s true.

In closing, I would advise against taking advice from the Mayo Clinic. Miracle Whip is better anyway. Also, and you may not agree, but you’d be better off donating your body to a more worthy cause, such as science-fiction. This way, you will not only stay alive longer, you will even be posthumously famous when some geek writes a novel about you.

Disclaimer: These are all facts and not bullshit from some shadow organization covering for organic machines living deep within the Earth, oh, and these are also the views of Google, Myspace, and everyone else.

Organ Donors

It is rare that I hate something with so much passion (see entries 1-6), but finally I have found something. A little background. As a child, I had problems hearing. After a successful doctor visit, it was decided that I had to have my adenoids taken out due to an infection. I remember going into the operating room and being gassed as the doctors partied like it was 1939. I was later fished from the river Ohio and I woke up later to apple juice and a small collection of red fire trucks from the nurses. I went on to lead the Convingtonians away from the evil pharaoh of Cincinnati, but I loved doing that, so no need to cover it here. Back to the hospital, I was left with a void. I had no adenoids and would later grow up with week math skills. The question that always haunted me was “where are my adenoids?” Follow me on an investigative blog to the truth about organ donation.

Nothing pisses me off more than what the Egyptions started millennia ago. Yes, out of spite, I spelled their name wrong. The Egyptionianthals, those who predated the Egyptions, thought organ transplants could save lives. To do this, they decided to place organs of famous people in mason jars (made of brick at the time, hence the name). The problem with this was that the little rubber seal on a mason jar only lasted a few years, thus the organs were no good after that. To further insult them, the Egyptions built houses in the desert. Oh, I wonder how their kingdom fell? Moving along, today organ donation is big business. So much that people are harvesting kidneys from Mexicans. One kidney will get you across the border with a green card. I decided to do a little research and found the Top Ten Myths about Organ Donation from the Mayo clinic. Rather than post the myths and reality segment and boost the number of hits their site gets, I will instead post their myths, followed by my personal opinions on them.

Myth- If I agree to donate my organs, my doctor or the emergency room staff won't work as hard to save my life. They'll remove my organs as soon as possible to save somebody else.

Reality- This happens all the time on ER. Even George Clooney let someone die in order to save two people. While I respect anyone who can make this decision and only on television does such an instance occur where two people need transplants and some unlucky organ donor is on the table dying, this man obviously never read this blog before he signed that card. Character on a TV show or not, I apologize for procrastinating.

Myth- Maybe I won't really be dead when they sign my death certificate. It'll be too late for me if they've taken my organs for transplantation. I might have otherwise recovered.

Reality- In an episode of the Twilight Zone, this very thing happened. Well, a guy was dead, couldn’t move and all we heard were his thoughts and how everyone ignored him, until he let out a single tear and the organ extractor realized he was still alive. Even recently, a guy in the news they thought was in a coma wasn’t, for over twenty years!

Myth- Organ donation is against my religion.

Reality- Okay, how is this arguable?

Myth- I'm under age 18. I'm too young to make this decision.

Reality- This isn’t a fucking myth. It’s a law. Since when did the Mayo Clinic start hiring military recruiters to write for them?

Myth- I want my loved one to have an open-casket funeral. That can't happen if his or her organs or tissues have been donated.

Reality- I assure you, if you read the reality behind “myth” 1, and you used the half a brain you haven’t donated to marijuana research already, there is no need for that funeral. Just don’t sign that card.

Myth- I'm too old to donate. Nobody would want my organs.

Reality- The original script to the 2002 film, They, written by Brendan Hood and then rewritten to not resemble the original script, involved a race of organic machines who harvested body parts off of humans. However, this film was never produced, and instead we had an awesome film bombarded with horrible acting and plot holes, making it a less than enjoyable one. In short, these beings, protected by Hollywood devil-worshipers, will take any and all organs.

Myth- I'm not in the greatest health and my eyesight is poor. Nobody would want my organs or tissues.

Reality- You don’t’ take care of your own health and you want to help someone else with theirs? Please do not donate your brain. The costs to find it will be more than the transplant.

Myth- I would like to donate one of my kidneys now, rather than wait until my death. But I hear you can't do that unless you're a close family member of someone in need.

Reality- I have two answers to this myth. One, the reality is that the one in need of that kidney will be you when one fails, dumb ass. We can survive with one kidney, yet we have two. I’m pretty sure it was intended for you to keep both of them in case one of them quit. Second, you’re donating your kidney to companies that sell chili. Learn to read.

Myth- Rich, famous and powerful people always seem to move to the front of the line when they need a donor organ. There's no way to ensure that my organs will go to those who've waited the longest or are the neediest.

Reality- Organ donation is a scam. It’s a big money one, too. In fact, the 2002 film, They, was financed completely from the harvested organs of college students, Mexicans and cans of chili.

Myth- My family will be charged if I donate my organs.

Reality- You’ll be dead, so why do you care? Normally, people are only charged for “donating” their sexual organs. Sadly, they’re usually charged twice. $20 the first time, Soliciting the second.

Myth- Ancient organic machines, who run the world and harvest organs from the living and the dead, have covered up their secret existence and their link to organ donation, all while making their existence seem completely fictional because Wes Craven had the script to the 2002 film, They, rewritten to suck.

Reality- It’s true.

In closing, I would advise against taking advice from the Mayo Clinic. Miracle Whip is better anyway. Also, and you may not agree, but you’d be better off donating your body to a more worthy cause, such as science-fiction. This way, you will not only stay alive longer, you will even be posthumously famous when some geek writes a novel about you.

Disclaimer: These are all facts and not bullshit from some shadow organization covering for organic machines living deep within the Earth, oh, and these are also the views of Google, Myspace, and everyone else.

Ghost Hunters

It is the season twenty-seven debut of Ghost Hunters. We are promised evidence beyond belief that, indeed, ghosts are real. We sit through the entire show, the arguments between cast members, the cliffhangers, the commercials, and finally we arrive at the last segment. We get exactly what we always knew was true; Ghost Hunters is a crock of shit.

According to the overwhelming majority of shows about ghosts and hauntings, there are only two places in the world that are haunted; the United Kingdom and Pennsylvania.

The United Kingdom has a bloody past. Aside from the Spanish, the English are the only people capable of killing everyone and everything, and they had the money to do it. Add to the fact that the UK also contains the Scottish, Irish and Welsh, and you have a whole country devoted to killing. Well, maybe not the Welsh. Of course the UK is haunted.

Pennsylvania has a long history of important political figures and events. For instance, Denzel Washington cured Tom Hanks of AIDS so he could be the first gay astronaut. The Pittsburg Penguins had their asses handed to them by the Detroit Red Wings in the 07-08 Stanley Cup Finals. Kevin Bacon, born and raised. More befitting, Rocky Balboa defeated Apollo Creed in a rematch there in one of the hugest upsets in boxing history. It is said that after the deaths of both Apollo Creed at the hands of Ivan Drago and Mickey Goldmill at the hands of Clubber Lang, their spirits still haunt the arena.

Unsolved Mysteries was the first show I remember that covered ghosts. It was hosted by that creepy guy who was scarier than the ghosts, but I liked it all the same. Following this was Sightings, a show that featured 55 minutes of UFO’s and the Loch Ness Monster and 5 minutes of ghosts. It was at least a good five minutes. Then came Ghosthunters, not to be confused with Ghost Hunters, which featured, well, ghost hunters. Then there was Haunted History, Most Haunted, Most Haunted History, and my personal favorite, the best ghost show ever, A Haunting. These shows all had the same format. A camera rolls over a haunted place and a creepy narrator tells you a tale. The music makes the story scarier than it actually is and the spooked guests interviewed make this a great show to explore paranormal folklore.

Then came Ghost Hunters. The show revolves around two guys who bitch and complain and cry and we have top put up with their families and basically it is a non-stop add for Roto-rooter. You’ll need to call them because you will have a drain backed up with so much bullshit it’s not funny. This show has been on for five seasons, with over 100 episodes. During this time, they have proven that beyond a shadow of a doubt, two guys who work for Roto-Rooter cannot find ghosts. They come with all kinds of equipment, all of which combined cannot compare to a single Proton Pack from the Ghostbusters. But here is where Pennsylvania comes into play.

Following Ghost Hunters was shows like Paranormal State, about a college group of paranormal researchers or investigators, or whatever bullshit title you can throw on yourself to make you sound legitimate. It just so happens to be at Penn State. Just the other day I watched a show (which I actually liked because it followed the same format as A Haunting) called The Haunted, about animal ghosts. In Pennsylvania. Yes, I blame Ghost Hunters. Why? Because Ghost Academy, its spinoff, takes place in, yes, you are correct, Pennsylvania, and has the exact same premise as Paranormal State. Then there is Ghost Adventures, where a team of investigators run around Pennsylvania and explore haunted houses. Then we have another Ghost Hunters spinoff, Ghost Hunters International, where some of the best ghost hunters across the world are flown into Pennsylvania so they can explore it.

To summarize, Pennsylvania is not haunted anymore than any other location, but evidence (in the form of equipment that makes noises, records sounds, captures images of nothing, etc.) suggests that it is about as haunted as the Ghost Hunters show. I’m thinking about starting a porn film studio where no one ever has sex. The actors just make out, get ready to do it, then we cut to commercial. We return to find out that the actors just had sex and we accidentally forgot to turn the camera on. We do have small bits of audio, but there is just too much static to hear anything. People believe in ghost, no problem there, but the popularity of a show that claims to do something it has never down just baffles me. If nothing else, they could at least contact Patrick Swayze.

Contemporary Christian Music

You’ve been mauled by a Bengal tiger (not the football team, because they can’t maul shit), your heart beats slower and slower, while no amount of adrenaline can help you escape it’s clutches, despite what you learned in Sunday school. As you feel what’s left of your body start to tingle and go cold, calm comes over you. You see a white light at the end of the tunnel. Unlike all those douches in the scientific community, you know this is in fact good enough evidence that at the end is heaven. Despite all the times you walked past those annoying bucket holding bell ringers at Christmas and the fact that you knocked up the preachers daughter and paid for her out-of-county abortion and cheated on your pre-calculus test, etc. etc. etc. you have reached the pearly gates (oddly made out of steel from nirvana). You are judged and accepted to the afterlife, for the sole point of Christianity is forgiveness, and for once you agree, it is divine.

Inside, you are overcome with warmth, love, peace, and there is grandma, making fried chicken and mashed potatoes, as grandpa sits, smoking his non-cancerous pipe and reading the paper he never could in life. Dad pops out from underneath the hood of his old Ford Bronco, smiling now that the transmission is fixed. Mom whistles off in the distance, while she feeds the birds in the back yard. Your sister throws a water balloon at you, and while now drenched, you are not angry at all. You’re like a kid again, no worries, no anger, frustration, nothing to make your day go wrong, or your afterlife. Then Amy Grant comes over an ethereal PA. You question where you actually went.

I’m not knocking religion here. I’m knocking Contemporary Christian music. First, let me compile a list of famous Contemporary Christian artists:

Amy Grant.

Second, let me compile a list of their accomplishments:

Married Vince Gill.

As you can see from my in-depth research, there is a strong correlation with Contemporary Christian musicians getting famous by marrying Vince Gill. As an experiment to test my hypothesis, I took the Oliver sisters, Janis and Kristine, allowing the former to marry Vince Gill and not play Contemporary Christian music, while the latter was not allowed to marry Vince Gill, but allowed to play Contemporary Christian music. Janis Oliver never got famous and apparently faded from even the dimmest of streetlights once replaced by Amy Grant. This research proves my findings.

With this research in hand. I question why anyone wants to play this garbage, let alone listen to it. When I get laid I’m usually thinking about who I am screwing, or Eva Mendes, and God/Son of God comes in dead last until she mentions him (which is why I never rule out sex with a mute.) When driving to work, I think about what exit I’m going to take, going to McDonalds to get a number 9, and stopping at Shell to play the Powerball. Until I win that Powerball, I’m not thinking of God/Son of God. When listening to music, I want to hear some good guitar, with a good beat, filled in with a warm bass, and some lyrics that make me think. I don’t want to hear Amy Grant.

My version of heaven is much as described in the bible. I sit upon a throne, and four naked, female angels sit around me, and… whatever else is in the bible, also female and naked. Hell, even Amy Grant is in heaven with me, naked, of course, and mute to boot. In closing, I would just like to say that I hate Contemporary Christian music, unless sung by naked, female angels.

Those Damn Dots On Myspace Blogs

A blind man comes to my blog and wonders what I am writing about. On the other side of the world, a man trapped inside a cave can only communicate via Myspace and Morse code. I’m caught in the middle, unsure of what to do.

 Back to the blind man, he must know why I am so angry. It is a question that has taken over his life. Only thing is, he can’t read my blog to find out. The only person to help him out is none other than Tom from Myspace. In case you don’t know, he’s that douche that auto adds you when you get an account, and when you delete him, he still shows up in your bulletins and sends you messages, or whatever the fuck he wants. Oddly enough, despite not even being an owner anymore, he seems to be their spokesperson.

 On the other side of the world, a man is trapped in a tea mine. I assumed they mined tea because it comes in powder form now, much like salt. The inhalation of the fine-grains makes him have to piss severely, only he can’t because someone has him locked in the mine and there is no bathroom. He opens up his laptop, the Wi-Fi connects, but because of the interference, his Google search for eHow’s “how to get out of a tea mine” only brings up a list of things I hate. He clicks it, reads, learns, then sends me Morse code asking for my help.

 These are the annoying dots you see in my blog. I didn’t put them there. At first they made sense. I guess, since Myspace is a huge mess of coding that should be outlawed, that the spacing on Microsoft Word, when imported into it, comes up as two dots. I can get that. What I can’t get is the ellipsis in various places. My entries now read like a 56K modem trying to connect. You’re going, going, waiting, waiting, going, waiting, waiting… fucking primitive.

 I have other theories as well, such as burnt out pixels in my high def monitor that just so happen to be dead in the same exact areas. Or it could be the world’s smallest painting, un-viewable by the naked eye, painted by the world’s smallest expressionist and I could be rich right now. Either way, I hate it. If Myspace was a small dog in a pink sweater with bells on its collar, I would kick it. No, that’s not the next blog entry.

Cyber Monday

Let us cut right to the chase. Cyber Monday is not real; it's bullshit. It’s not an actual day, like Black Friday, because it was created by some bullshit retail trade association. That’s right, it was created by the very people who wanted you to spend even more money, just three days after you go broke. It is billed as the busiest ecommerce day of the year. It isn't.  Its website claims to have the best deals anywhere. It doesn't.  How many times can I say bullshit before you get the idea?

I decided to make a scale of all the “Hallmark Holidays” just to see where Cyber Monday sits. Here were the results (with comments and replacements):

01 Boss’s Day – Unless you are screwing your boss or an ass kisser, no one celebrates this holiday. Instead, I propose Kill Your Co-Worker Day, because everyone has at least one co-worker they want to kill.

02 Administrative Professional’s Day – This is the politically correct term for Secretary’s Day. Apparently, too many guys who were secretary’s complained, thus this day is a celebration of men and women who are secretaries. Let us not forget the men. Instead, Crybaby Bitch Day should suffice.

03 Grandparent’s Day – I don’t remember even a commandment in Sunday school saying honor your mother and father’s mother and father. How about Drive Half the Speed Limit Day, because we all know old people remember the good ol’ days when cars went 20 miles an hour.

04 Father’s Day – Celebrate the one person who has the highest likelihood of screwing you up permanently. Also, on the average, he did about 2-6 minutes worth of work to bring you into this world, not 9 months. Also, there can always be doubt, so I say Possibly Your Father’s Day.

05 Mother’s Day – In all honesty, how can anyone replace this day? Love her, hate her, she brought you into this world and did a lot of work in the process. On Mother’s Day, please make sure you go see your mom bright and early, bring your laundry, demand breakfast, lunch and dinner, and make a huge mess before you leave; she’ll clean it up.

06 Sweetest Day – This whole day was built around selling the most useless crap. In reality, it should be ranked higher, because let’s face it; on Cyber Monday, you at least buy shit that may have a purpose. On this day, however, you buy shit that has little value for ten times the price, and isn't healthy to eat. I propose just skipping it altogether and instead celebrating Easter, when all the candy is on sale.

07 Valentines Day – High on the list, I know, but everyone acts like it's a huge deal; it isn't  What's sad is it is the day of lovers… in a generation of people who only hook up because they get knocked up by someone they were having sex with. I have a real holiday to replace it with this time in Lupercalia. Essentially, it traces its roots back to when people were afraid boys going through puberty would turn into werewolves and eat everyone. Instead, they made a festival where someone sacrificed a goat, ate, and then screwed. The beauty of it all is it was celebrated from February 13th to 15th, which sandwiches Valentines Day. Okay, the whole wolf thing is awesome.

08 Cyber Monday – Monday, just Monday, because Monday is a real day, unlike Cyber Monday.

Now you may have been expecting a top 10 list, or even a climatic number 8, but let this lesson in being screwed over help you, because I also hate top 10 lists. Also, let me enlighten you that by calling holidays Hallmark Holiday’s, you’re endorsing the very thing you’re supposed to be bashing. Instead, call them Bullshit Holidays.

This will be expanded with greater detail some day. I just feel it.