Thursday, March 20, 2008

Wave Of Mutilation

People always ask me "have you seen (insert TV show title here)?" and my response is always the same; no. I generally don't watch TV shows, with the exception of Family Guy and How I Met Your Mother. South Park occasionally, when they don't get too political. But other than that, I can honestly say that whatever pathetic excuse of a half-hour waste of time the networks can vomit out of their creatively-drained brains is on TV, chances are I have not seen it, nor will I. And for some unknown reason this always fascinates people. Even now as I type this, the television is on, but it's on mute and I am listening to my iTunes playlist (the Pixies for those keeping score). This country is fascinated with television, and I can honestly say "I just don't get it".

My main complaint against television is not so much the content I am exposed to as much it is the general public's inability to resist this continuously regurgitated crap. How many reality TV shows does it take for you people to be content? And an even better question, why are you so fascinated with watching other people pretend to live real life? Reality television is the ultimate contradiction in terms. These people are not being themselves, they are being who they think you want them to be, and the idiots of this country eat it up. Case in point; that dumb bitch who told the whole world she fucked her ex or whatever on that Moment Of Truth show. Do you really think she did it because it's true? No. She did it for ratings and a possible future in television. She even admitted it. But the reality TV whores are still eating this shit up.

Speaking of whores, why is this country obsessed with watching celebrities fuck up? Here's a scenario I want you to try and imagine; you spend every moment in the public. You have no privacy, you can't drive your car due to the photographers swarming around it like bees, and your entire life is on display on every magazine rack in the world. You are constantly criticized and judged for the shit we all do every day. You are attacked for your looks, weight, lifestyle, love life, parenting skills, and for your basic desire for privacy. Would this not make you turn to drugs and alcohol? Then you get the whole world talking about your reaction to their invasion of your privacy. If you were some random person, this would be a nightmare for you and your family, and those who exploited your hardships would be stoned and thrown to the fucking wolves. But if your name is Britney Spears, it's considered entertainment?

Reality TV is this generations opiate for the masses. Hollywood has no sense of originality anymore, so it just force feeds us this crap because we don't know any better. We enjoy watching others fuck up their lives all the while judging them because we have somehow convinced ourselves that we are better than they are. Are we? I mean sure, we're not the ones on the television, but is the prey any better a species than the laughing hyenas? Every predator is another hunter's prey; it just looks different on the other side of the glass. All reality TV does is prove that even someone's fake life can be far more entertaining than our own, and that is just sad. I will never understand getting joy out of the suffering of others. Oh yeah, one last thing; American Idol is a crime against music, and quite possibly against humanity, and the people in charge of Fox deserve to be shot.

cease to resist, giving my goodbye

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Thursday, March 13, 2008

Imitation Of Life

After the walls of my virtual world came tumbling down, hurdling data packets and random bits of code out into the unknown oblivion, I felt my mind starting to slip from its grasp on reality. I suddenly felt cold, unclean and delirious, convulsing in my own madness as the information super-highway drifted further and further away from my cold, dead fingers. The days seemed dark and dreary, passing by like a river flowing into some unknown terrain. It was hell. But it would soon pass. I would soon be saved from my own personal hell, much like that douchebag from Creed. You know, the Eddie Vedder doppelganger who preaches a lot and his music sucks but it sells anyway, thanks to the religious fanatics who find some sort of comfort in his facade of religious faith and flowing bangs and tribal armband tattoos. Anyway, back to me trying to sound pretentious and deep. My world soon found itself turned upside down. Then the doorbell rang. My savior appeared, my white knight on his trusty steed (read: minivan) here to slay the dragon of boredom and restore order to my village, and possibly rape my women and enslave my children, I'm not really sure. His name was AT&T, and he brought me back to this world. And I am forever in his debt. I am back online bitches, and damn it feels good.

No one can see me cry

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