Dysfunctional Family Circus #1

My bid for 15 minutes of fame and a moderately lucrative bathroom book deal

So it's been like two and a half years since my last blog post. I feel that's a good thing. It's a bit of conceit to think that my opinions are of any worth to anyone. It's even more conceited to think that regular prattlings and clever observations will change the world. They won't. Blogs are really just mental masturbation.

So why, you may ask, am I posting again on here? To three followers that are all acquaintances, which means they don't count. Maybe you didn't ask. Frankly I don't care. I'm not writing for you. I'm writing for a simple reason. People seem to be getting bathroom book contracts for this sort of thing and I feel I'm missing out on an opportunity to make money for doing something of little value. I want to cash in. So this shall be my attempt at getting published.

Unfortunately I am terribly lazy and will no doubt get tired of this in six or seven minutes. We'll see what happens.

On Really Big Car Crashes

Call me crazy, but for some reason, seeing a car smashed beyond recognition actually causes me to smile. Maybe it's because I know that more than likely, someone was being stupid and got punished for it.

On Whoever Started The Whole "Specialty Coffee" Epidemic

Why is it that I can't go into a coffee house and ask for a cup of coffee anymore? It's a simple enough request. "I'd like a cup of coffee, please." The only variables involved are cream and sugar. Now every pretentious little jerk-off is ordering a "half-caff-double-tall-skim-mocha-quasi-vanilla-neo-frappa-crappa with a frigging side of biscotti. DAMN YOU ALL TO HELL FOR MAKING COFFEE COMPLICATED.
Eventually, the whole smugness of the "coffee scene" is going to cause me to become uncontrollably angry, and when that happens, I'm going to start throwing nuclear hot fast food coffee in people's faces and pelting them with stale cheese Danishes until death ensues.

The Grand List of Ways To Be A Totally Vile Asshole Pt. 1

1) Make an anonymous call to the FBI and explain that your neighbor has been talking pretty seriously about "whacking that lying bastard in Washington"

2) Spit on a homeless person.

3) Go ahead and use your cell phone in the hospital, they're just being paranoid.

4) Tell someone their religion is wrong.

5) Try to fit everyone into stereotypes.

6) Don't leave tips. If you do, just make it some loose change.

7) Condemn someone for their beliefs.

8) Be petty.

9) Force your way onto an elevator before anyone has the chance to get off.

10) Patronize a disabled person.

On Anyone Allergic To More Than Three Unrelated Items

We all new someone like this in junior high. The kid with hay-fever who couldn't drink milk and would break out in hives if he got within fifty feet from a cat. What the Hell is wrong with these people? Isn't natural selection supposed to weed out this sort of thing? Everybody is deathly allergic to something. What is going on? There are people who will drop stone dead if they walk into a room where someone has recently been eating a peanut butter sandwich! Send these people back to the gene pool! Since when have peanuts become a deadly toxin?

Shit wasn't this bad when I was a kid. When I was a kid, anybody with multiple allergies would just stop showing up for school, and no explanations would be given. "Jimmy won't be with us anymore." Parents are doing something to their kids that's pussifying their immune systems. Can't have peanuts, can't be near a cat, pollen gives them the sniffles, pus comes out their eyes if they eat fish from more than 10 miles to the south of the equator, they go into anaphylactic shock if you stare at them too hard. Christ! Maybe allergies are Nature's way of saying you aren't cut out for anything other than composting.

On "My Son/Daughter Is An Honor Student/Achiever/Good Citizen/Productive Member Of Society/Blah Blah Blah Student At Loser Jr/Sr High" Bumper Stickers

You know, when you really get down to it, nobody really cares at all that you even managed to successfully procreate, let alone how that particular offspring is doing scholastically.
So please, if you're going to live vicariously through your children, at least spice it up and choose your teenage stoner metal head child (My child can clear a six-foot bong at Hooterville High).