Don’t get me wrong. What’s going on in Mexico is a bona fide emergency and a genuine humanitarian crisis, but you’re cracked if you think that it’s going to be any kind of crisis north of the border. The reason that this is such a crisis in Mexico has more to do with the fact that Mexico is a developing country whose development deficits are mostly in the areas of access t food, clean water and air, and medicines. I know that it’s weird to think of Mexico as a developing country because much of it is pretty much indistinguishable from the US other than having more history, culture, narcotics-gangs and zapistatas, but it is.

I know you like to think about the end of the world because you don’t like this one. You want to escape your everyday life because, by and large, neither it nor you are anything exceptional or interesting and you’re convinced that if only the world were a post-apocalyptic hellscape like Fallout 3 you could be some kind of hero. This is the same kind of self-delusion that drives people to Wicca or Objectivism. But it’s simply not the case. Firstly, you are largely speaking, no one special. No matter how “prepared” you think you are, a genuine pandemic would probably kill you unless you’re rich, in the army, or otherwise insulated. Secondly, Pig Flu will not create that kind of epidemic. It just won’t. It’s nowhere near deadly or infectious enough. Third, even if it did, and even if you survived, you wouldn’t be some kind of hero leading a charmed life of adventure. Life would suck because you’d be deprived of the amenities you’ve come to enjoy.

On top of that it’s sort of ghoulish to figure people who are actually dying into your bullshit self-gratification fantasies. And by kind of ghoulish I mean it’s utterly disgusting.

I am: Kurt Vonnegut For years, this unique creator of absurd and haunting tales denied that he had anything to do with science fiction.

Which science fiction writer are you?

Also apparently I'm vonnegut.

So what have I been up to?

I've been writing shitty microfiction for 4chan's /x/ board. It's been OK, and some of it I'm actually proud of. But most of it sucks.

I'm engaged to be married. We haven't set a date yet and I'm having second thoughts.

I'm utterly horrified at the fact that next week I'll have two Bachelors Degrees with honours but no idea what I want to do with the rest of my life.

I can't sleep for fear of the things I've been dreaming of lately.

I've come to the uncomfortable realization that, thanks to the MAGIC OF THE INTERNET I've got like two degrees of seperation from a bunch of people I laugh at on ED and have, in fact, trolled in what I *think* was a very hateful way.

When I was young, every year my high school did class trips to this summer camp north of the city. I always used to sneak off into the woods and find a tree to sit beneath, then I'd blow the whole week sitting under the tree smoking and reading. The first year we went up, I didn't smoke and read old Sci Fi novels I'd picked up at a used book store. The second year I smoked and read camus. The third year I smoked, smuggled some beer up to drink, and read Aristophanes and other Greek dudes.

It occurs to me that not only did I miss out on a chance to parley this into genuine coolness, I was also far cooler and smarter in highschool than I am now. There are no words for how much this depresses me.

Oddly, for the first time in about twelve years, I have no complaints about my meds.

And he has no idea what a cargo cult is:
http://klausler.com/cargo.html

Seriously. Shouldn't someone who's "educated" that much have at least a modicum of cultural literacy?

Fuck Fuck FUCK. Why do I still bother going to church when all I get is hung over in class the next day and Matt looking at me like he's going to cry when I finally drag my ass to bed.

You know the worst part? He's going to fucking ask me to marry him because he's too dumb and sweet to realise that I'm poison.

Everything I touch turns to shit. You're all fucking furries and I hope you die.

I wrote this monologue, because I was bored. The details are true, the rest isn't.

Life is fucking nuts, y’know? Like, the other day, I was reading Poz and it turns out that this guy I knew in school is like, a Gift Giver now. He was on the cover, some story about Gifters...

Shit, you’re straight. Poz is a magazine for guys that have AIDS. It’s called that ‘cuz “poz” is what us hip, happening young queers use instead of “Stupid Faggot”. I know, it’s stupid. Not as stupid as gifting, believe me.

A Gift Giver is a guy who has AIDS and gets off on spreading it. Yeah, fucked up. It’s like a Darwin thing or something. Your body knows it’s dying, so it starts to make you really horny, so you start to want to fuck a lot, to pass on your genes. Only, you can’t exactly make babies by sticking your prick in a guy’s ass or jizzing on his face while he slobbers on your knob. The body doesn’t care, though.

The body is fucking stupid. But hey, at least they can bareback again.

Most guys with AIDS just jerk it a lot, or fuck other people with AIDS. Some dicks don’t want to fuck that skanky, diseased ass though. They want the fresh shit. So they lie about being sick. Even Gifters are worse than them though. Giving someone a terminal disease is a fetish now.

I said life was fucking nuts already, right?

So Gifters are assholes, but the guys that actually look for them, hoping to get AIDS? They’re the bottom of the fucking barrel. Maybe the APA was wrong to say faggotry’s not a mental illness if this is the kind of shit we wind up doing.

So, like, I was reading Poz, don’t ask me why I was, I’m not positive, it was the only thing in this coffee shop in the gay district- Yes, Calgary has a Gay District. I was surprised too- that hadn’t been snatched up. I was kind of tempted to not touch it, well, not without forceps and a biohazard suit, but there was nothing else. So this guy I knew in school, real cool guy. First string halfback, banging a cheerleader, played trumpet in the band-

I know, I fucking suck at telling stories, but I gotta say: Have you ever had a trumpet player go to town on you? Tell him to play Taps on your dong. It’s fucking heaven.

-Anyways, this guy’s this popular, normal guy. And it turns out now, like, years later, he’s a Gift Giver. How fucked is that?

This crappy Canadian comic has been pissing me off lately. It should have ended a couple years ago, before it sucked. See, what makes FBoFW special is that the characters age in real time, gradually getting older, maturing, allowing readers to follow along and grow along with the strip. This is, to be honest, an amazing achievement for a Newspaper comic.

Which is why it's so frustrating that it SUCKS.

Gone are the days when the comic's creator, Lynn Johnston, was content to sensitively and realistically explore a teenager's coming out, or make wry observations about life in a nuclear family. No, now she's got to hammer her characters into roles that JUST DON'T WORK and make us all suffer through it.

Anthony Caine is funny and charming, despite the fact he never actually demonstrates it, and instead comes off as a bland, latent homosexual. We're told this over and over again by various characters, and that he'd make a good husband for Liz, despite the fact that his first marriage failed. Why'd it fail? Why, it was his wife's fault! Her fault for telling him up front she didn't want children, and him marrying her anyways. Her fault for being bitched at until she let him make kids with her on the grounds that she wouldn't have to be a stay-at-home parent, and then she had the gall to continue to have her career! Yeah. Totally not his fault.

Michael Patterson is a brilliant Novelist despite the fact that his book sucks, he knows nothing about writing, and he relies on his mother to practically ghostwrite his book for him. But he's a brilliant novelist. So brilliant that he rushes back into a fire to rescue THE SOLE EXISTING COPY OF HIS BOOK which is on his laptop. Because he has no hardcopy, backups online or at his office, or anything.

April Patterson is a spoiled brat. Why's she a spoiled brat? Why, when all her obnoxious, self-centered siblings move home, she has the gall to be bothered by the fact that they drink all the milk, she has to sleep in the den or whatever, and there's neither hot water nor a free bathroom to use it in. This is accomplished by clumsily contrasting her with refugees from South America and the mentally handicapped.

Ellie Patterson is calm, centered, longsuffering and knows what's best for everyone, despite shoe-horning everyone into all these stupid roles and being the worst author-surrogate ever.

I hate it I hate it I hate it but I can't stop reading.

Current Mood: angry
Current Music: Alert Status Red - Matt Good

I hate Wikipedia, like, tons. I've sort of been on a Wikipedia hating kick lately, and so I made an account. Mainly to open a deletion review for Lackadaisy. Problem is, I don't think I did it right. Oh well. Not my fault if I can't understand the byzantine formatting and obscure review system at 3:00 AM whilst under the influence of illegals.

Seriously. Fucking assault on objective truth.

Stealing from Esteban is fun!

Comment on this entry and I'll tell you what David Bowie song you remind me of.