Friday, February 22, 2013

"I've Smelled Better" and Other Possible Auto-Biography Titles

Jack of All Trades, Master of Jack(ing) 

Allergies, And God's Other Subtle Ways of Saying"Fuck You, But Not As Much As Africa" 

Another Spoiled Douche Who Doesn't Know Dick About Africa Writes a Book 

Running Out of Ideas

Resorting to Dissolving the Fourth Wall (A Self-Help Guide For Fiction Writers Who Just Want to Be Understood, Man)

I still think I'm going with I've Smelled Better.






Saturday, February 9, 2013

Idea for "Intervention"

If I've already told you about my idea for jazzing up the television series Intervention, pardon this instance of regurgitation (if I begin to regurgitate something else at any point, however, do grab me some form of receptacle).

The show focuses on crippling drug addictions, but I want to see them broaden the scope of the addictions that they encounter. I'm talking less about crystal meth, more about nuts. No, not someone addicted to eating nuts (though that could work, that's not where I'm going with this), or merely someone addicted to porn, but someone who is actually quite nutty. I want an episode that focuses on a person who is undeniably addicted to their own craziness.

I think the perfect candidate for an episode of Intervention would be a conspiracy theorist. Seriously, imagine the bulk of the episode focusing on some pudgy, non-drug-addicted white guy who goes to work and completely isolates himself from his coworkers by denouncing them as "Bilderberg sympathizers." Later, he gets drunk with his one friend who he shares books with, and very jovially tells the camera,"but what I really mean by 'Bilderberg' is JEW! HAH!" His family has to disconnect the internet just to get him away from his Alex Jones videos and seated at the dinner table. They watch in horror as he twitches, foams at the mouth, and screams about the New World Order. Worse, they can't save any leftovers for him, because he's already used up all of the foil. He'll show the closet where he stores his homemade "exquisite, Jew-loving" hats that he's crafted from all the foil, as he clumsily tries to fold and hide his swastika flag.

The best part, of course, will be the actual intervention. Picture the pudgy protagonist, the one who believes everything is a conspiracy and ostensibly everyone is out to get him, surrounded in one room by everyone he knows. As George W. Bush would say, "nük-yul-urr!"

To find out what happens, Intervention actually has to make this episode, and you have to tune in (or just find the clips from the end online, even though I bet you wouldn't steal a car!).



Sunday, February 3, 2013

NRA-Fucked Skull

I know I've said that the gun control debate is less relevant to me than most any other issue, but there is one recurring argument that I've been seeing for years. It gets stuck in my head, like a Rihanna song, and it actually makes me want to buy a gun.

If you seriously think that "cars kill more people than guns, so why don't we just ban cars?" is a good argument against any kind of gun regulation, you've probably had your frontal lobe (among other previously functioning parts of your brain) dislodged by Wayne LaPierre's calloused and chaffed cock. He's fucked you; through your nose, and into your cranial contents, you've become the NRA's little bitch pussy.

What the flying fucking cunt makes you think a CAR is in anyway comparable to a FIREARM? Aren't you the same people calling a firearm the "great equalizer"? Aren't you the same trembling puddle of LaPierre-puss that wonders how anyone can possibly protect themselves and their family, from CERTAIN and OH-MY-GOD-BLACK-PEOPLE doom, without a gun? Could it be that a gun has no purpose other than killing or seriously injuring human beings? Could it be that cars are far more, however regrettably, valuable to our society than you feeling like you're in control?

And how shallow is your appreciation for detail that you assume "gun regulation" or "gun control" means the absolute outlawing of all guns? It doesn't. It never has. Obama has never once been "coming for your guns," and he never will. Yet it's not surprising that you're so hysterically afraid of something so unlikely.