Yeah I'm Pretty Much a Socialist... Don't Like it? Blow Me.

Whilst browsing the wondrous Facebook, I often come across a few updates from some individuals that are rather politically charge. Generally they're of the sentiment "NOBAMA!", or "KEEP THE CHANGE!", or "I'M GOING TO A TEABAGGER PARTY!". Which is fine, I actually don't mind because I used to be in a group called "Fuck this President!". Seeing all of these somewhat... hating posts has really solidified my view on one thing.

Don't like what's going on? That's fine, but don't try to change my mind on it. Because you're not going to. And I'll probably try to ball tap you (twat tap? if you're a female?) if you even attempt to debate a subject with me on the grounds of you attempting to persuade me I'm wrong.

I'm all about scholarly, intelligent debate. In fact I thrive on it. But I really am getting sick of the politically charged bullshit that is constantly bombarding my life (I'm partly to blame, I do subscribe to the Economist and I always jog on the treadmill at the gym with FOX News on in front of me... I find the anger makes perfect JOGGING FUEL). I've come to a few basic realizations, and I really with others would heed my fucking word.

1. Yes, I'm a fucking Socialist
And I'm actually a very well read one, as well. Y'know, I don't take pride in my political ideals. I know they're heavily idealized. I know they'll never come true. But I have them. So god damned deal with it. All too many times I've had someone (a friend, an acquantance, or someone I've never met before) ask me about my views on, oh, let's say, the stimulus package. I'll usually sit back, play it off and hear what the other person has to say. But oftentimes the poor soul makes the misguided attempt to label the package as "socialism". Generally, at this point I say "No, no it isn't" while muttering a profane insult under my breath. Then the person sees I'm on the "left" side of things, politically speaking. In Indiana, that tends to be a boo-boo thing. Then I feel judged and hated upon... Which usually doesn't bother me. But when I go out of my way to not be political, and some horse's ass continues grinding their thoughts into my face trying to make me agree with them... It tends to be bothersome.

2. Yes, I'm a fucking Idealist
95% of those that realize I tend to be very left leaning usually make some comment about me being a communist, or tell me to appreciate the freedoms I have because my Grandpa died in Vietnam, or some shit like that. Usually I write them off and ignore them, often feeling bad for the mental retardation that has obviously struck them. But there is a small 5% group that immediately go for the somewhat thoughtful response: "Well, you know socialized health care will never happen", or "Equal rights will never be completely equal", or "Love people? What? Shut up with your Hippie mumbo-jumbo and go get high on shrooms and screw a Hollister mannequin". To this latter, more intelligent group, I say "Yeah, yeah I'm an idealist". I wonder, what is their point? I understand how much of a farce global humanitarian equality is. But that doesn't mean I can't dream about it. It doesn't mean I don't think it's the best thing that can happen socially. I understand it seems unlikely right now. But you know what seemed completely unthinkable more than a hundred years ago? Women having the right to vote. So go fuck yourself. How can we ever achieve anything if we don't aim high?

3. I want to reach a middle ground
This is possibly the most hypocritical portion or my rant. Yes, I think I'm a socialist. Yes, I know I'm an idealist. But you know what? I'm willing to compromise my ideas and listen to you. When I read all of the Facebook notes about how "Obama is t3h p0rk m4st3r" and "g4ys r rong!" I'll likely initially want to punt your shin. But then I think of how uncompromising you are in your views. And since I'm an egotistical bastard, I want to be better than you. (Plus, frankly, this makes more sense). We need to reach a common understanding. Sure, I think you're ignorant if you believe gays are trying to kill God, and the Jews placed fake dinosaur bones in the earth to disprove the Earth only being 4,000 years old. But I at least understand you're ignorant. So the most I expect from you is to understand my pretentiousness, and the fact that I probably know more about social sciences than you do.

The primary problem with our damned political system is this ridiculous Democrat/Republican dichotomy. I classify myself as neither. No one I know of likes the current system. But if us, "The Masses", don't figure out a way to at least listen and understand the other side (without trying to persuade them they're wrong, or compromise one's own view) we will get no where. We'll continue with this two party system, and your beloved "United States, Land of the Free" will quickly be swallowed up by every other nation that has realized the only thing that divides people politically are their owned god damned egos.

How to Get a Girl to do Anything in Bed PART TWO

Ahh, this earthly realm. Is all that makes me happy receiving sexy spam emails?

Maybe, but not quite. Upon other things, I just registered for classes for the Fall 2009 at Villanova; however more on this when I A) have more time and B) am sober.

For now I leave you with my response to this email I received...

By yudhishthira the just, of great intelligence. O sinless
one, that i am about to tell thee is. Proceeded to demonstrate as he explained. Thenmy the lower bunk. He was dragged out. Another saturday morality. A brave
man, if bereft of understanding, hath been uttered by thee,
o king, with respect possible. 'my god! Thou deserted me!'
he murmured. Feeling greatly relieved that her suspicion
was back in america only a year. We met early in the parker
pillsbury, another preacher and lecturer, once more returned
to battle, proceeding to the illness, had been his favorite
beneath the tall flowed away, even so, o king, are these
lamentations is, that hardy plants under glass demand skilful.

Beautiful. As a point of clarification: the italicized portion of this entry is actually something I received in an email entitled "How to get a girl to do anything in Bed". There is a link at the top of the email, followed by this fantastic piece of literary genius.

This shit is heavy. I feel very bad for Parker Pillsbury... Has he indeed been released from this mortal coil!?

How to Get a Girl to do Anything in Bed PART ONE

So I would really like to update this fucking thing. But the past week I was busy doing big-people things. Like, visiting a grad school, getting a scholarship, visiting friends in Boston, and getting inebriated at a Chicago Cubs game with the donor of my Y chromosome (that means my father). Since I have such a passion to use this as some sort of artistic output/locale of things I find funny/self-pleasuring love blog I found something I can post that will NOT take up much time, but will be abso-fucking-lutely mindblowing. I present something I received in my SPAM file on gmail. Followed by 3 or 4 more when I gain the initiative to post them.

"With a hateful smile on his face. There was something at
one of the doors. Macleod became his fellowspectator within
the rail. There is a certain amount of."

Yes. This is the text for an email that promised to make my wang have more bang (HAH! It took only like three seconds to think of that, kapow!).

Macleod has quickly become my nickname for my close friends. Kind of like "Jobin". This email was a nice introduction into the intricacies of questionable prose. What is to come, however, will poetically blow your pants off of your face.

That is, if you wear pants on your face. Otherwise it'll just rock your world.

A Man of the Hair

I'm a man that fully supports facial hair.

And god damn it, I don't care if sacrificing talent, skill, and an overall winning record is sacrificed for a full chin, cheek, {and neck}, of hair. When I was young, I was taught the virtues of true manliness. Those were: 1) Physically harass and beat anyone of a different school of thought than yourself; 2) Eat a lot of meat; 3) Slap things with your penis; 4) Grow and maintain a full face of hair.

Of those items, I only fulfill two at any specific time (Hint: They probably aren't the first two); this is likely why I grasp so tenaciously to the two virtues which I do fulfill. Of which one, I effectively fulfill without blinding nearby persons. To this, I stiffly defend the virtues of facial hair growth.

And this, simply, is why I do not support the Chicago Bears' decision to trade Kyle "The Neck Beard" Orton (along with two first round draft picks and a third round draft pick) with Jay "I Really Like Fall Out Boy" Cutler (as well as a third round draft pick). I don't care if it is a wise decision for the upcoming Bears season, in terms of victories. Because I know that it is a complete loss for the upcoming Bears season, in terms of facial hair that make even Grizzly Adams jealous.

Well, It Was Fucking Lame

For whatever reason, I decided writing on a somewhat daily basis would foster an environment for my creativity to not die. It happened when I was driving to a Goshen Community School this morning to sub. Some bitch cut me off. Being cut off by what I presumed to be a fat cow, my body spasmed and I mustered out a "You FUCKER" whilst in the middle of singing one of my favorite "Driving to Goshen Soundtrack" songs.

It's by the Guillemots.

I then proceeded to burn my tongue on a delicious, oh-thank-heaven Seven-Eleven 24 ounce cup 'o Joe. I muttered various swear words under my breath for the next two or three minutes, before finally forgetting why I was creatively assembling phrases that included both "ass" and "fisting".

It was at this point I realized I'm not nearly as angry as I sometimes catch myself acting. But I should probably write about it anyways.