Monday, September 30, 2013

Clear and Present Doggie

Despite my endless love of the feline species, or whatever they're called, I am the proud owner of a small "dog". I used the word dog loosely because I am quite certain that the creature is a combination of Scrappy Doo and that homeless guy who lives under the Wilson Station: he picks random fights with anything larger than him and barks and howls at things which don't exist, possibly the ghost of Joe Barbera.

I am the cause of my own pleasant and joyful misery, as it was I who picked the crazy pooch out of the line up. He had such a handsome little pimp strut and I just had to bring him home. But then we got him groomed, and he let his little brohawk go to his head.  The moment this little bastard sees another dog on the street, you'd think I was on a date with a sober Joan Rivers.

Taking this accursed dog for a walk is a lesson in futility: there is always another dog on the same block, and the dog's owner is always some clueless mouth breather who doesn't see the large black man swinging a 11 pound, flailing, slobbering dog around heading their way. Even if they don't think that the presence of them and their pet is the cause of my dog's reenactment of Jimmy Carter's presidency, common sense should have told them not to keep walking in the direction of the flailing mess of human and canine.

Occasionally, me and the little runt will encounter a dog smaller than him, and they will proceed to sniff, hump, lick, and hug each other while I stare at the other dog's owner uncomfortably, not sure if I should be doing the same. I eventually decide that my dog has had enough of being reminded that he had his missile silo decommissioned, I break him away from the other canine sex offender and move on and wonder just how long the other owner would have stood their and allowed our pups to sniff each others respective taints. And this is every time we come across another dog my dog has decided he doesn't want to frame in my Man Cave.

The one joy I do have is playing with the little bastard indoors. He has terrible traction; the simple act of turning a corner sharply will send him skidding into the next solid material available. He can't move faster than a fat midget walking backwards down an up escalator without falling into an embarrassing heap of doggie parts. This is infinitely entertaining.

The little lady sometimes thinks she is in competition with me for his affection, and boy is she wrong. The little bugger gets away with anything with her, and have to eat shit for the same mistakes! Like when he grabs her bra with his teeth and runs through the house, that's some how cute and acceptable. When I do it, it some how makes me a "sexual deviant". I swear, one day i'm going to take him to the beach and let him loose and see if he will try to run off with girl's bikini tops, like in [INSERT 90'S SUMMER COMEDY HERE]. Then we'll see who's the sexual deviant.

My money is on the dog

Friday, September 27, 2013

Accountability Versus Intelligence: Requiem

Being well versed in Internets, I often find myself browsing the comments cesspool section of different blog posts, Opinion pieces, pictures of ugly people, and other web content. I find this part to be the most enjoyable as it is the most important part of the internet experience. Why you ask? Simple: The whole point of posting something on the internet is to mine the world for reactions. This blog that you yourself are reading now (not you, YOU, dumbass) is made to reach as many people and see what you think about what I just said/did/ate/fondled. As a matter of fact, the miniscule response to my first post saddens me. I'm going to go cry in the car.

What could possibly go wrong?

Ok i'm back. Moving on. *sniff*

While the vitriol which collects in the comments section used to anger me, it continues to enlighten me in my quest to understand stupidity which emanates from mankind, allowing me to get through my day without going GTA in my Cruze. Sometimes, I think about the amount of dumbshit I say around my girlfriend, and it is immeasurable: honestly, I didn't know I could think of so many different ways I could effectively use my penis. But since she loves me (til this day I still do not know why) I get away scot-free! Just like me while on my penial escapades, internet commenters are not held accountable for the garbage that they force their poor brains to translate through their finger tips. Then I thought about it: people who feel that they are not accountable for something will treat that with no regard, interwebs or not.

Seriously. People have absolutely no accountability for our actions, the actions of our peers, our environment, or the people who we give our money to or vote for. That lack of accountability leads to a lack of knowledge: why do I need to know about X if someone else is going to take care of it?

It is common knowledge that most ~isms stem from a lack of understanding or respect. Everyone tries to fix that part through education or out reach. But that's a symptom. The cause is a lack of accountability. Look at every instance where two opposing view points came together to save the princess. Common enemies, desire to succeed/not fail, guilty conscience, cake: whatever it may be, that change did not come into place until one or more people were endanger losing something or missing out. For example, most people probably don't know that Asians have squinty eyes so that they may better aim their ninja stars. Had they had more ninja encounters, they would understand and respect that small difference.

It's hard to be accountable for something you can't see until you die.

This is why people can honestly admit with a straight face that they think all gays should burn in hell, or that all black people steal or that all muslim people are terrorists: there is absolutely no consequence for them to think so, and no benefit for them to think otherwise.

A huge detriment to our personal accountability is our reliance on technology. We don't need to remember anything because it's one Google search away. Kid's don't have enough sense to go outside by themselves because they don't need to: they just facebook their friends to play with them on X-box live. Women don't need to know how to make sandwiches because you can text, call, e-mail or skype Jimmy Johns.

So the solution is simple: in order to make our world more intelligent, we need to make people accountable for every action that they take. And nothing promotes accountability better than a punch in the face.

TLDR version: The world would be a better place if stupid people were regularly punched in the face.

Introduction Part 2: Origins

Imagine that you are at work. Chances are you are, so shame on you. With that aside, you are at work, and if you're like me, your job requires you to remain glued to a desk and stare at a computer screen until its time to clock out, you die, or some hapless moron asks for your attention. What is one to do in the interim?

Perhaps you will try to learn a new language. Maybe even learn to program. Maybe you will cast aside your oppressive, digital overlord and read a book. Some of us will try to write one.

If you're like me, you will do all of the above. Also, if you're like me, your hatred of the average person and the copious amounts of stupidity they release into our world knows no bound. But enough people devote their spare time to ranting about shit that they cannot change. I prefer to just think about anything which happens to come to me as I sit between these three walls. This blog is my invitation for you to join me while I ponder on anything and nothing of importance.

I cannot promise you that this journey will be entertaining. I cannot promise you that it will be intelligent. I can promise you, however, that one day, you'll be dead. And if I'm wrong, screw you and anyone who looks like you  tell me your secrets magic man*.

*Any magic women who may be offended by this can go kick rocks.