Okay, I guess I gotta apologize. I haven't been here much lately. I definitely have more to say, more chapters to add to this potential book I've been collecting material here for. (I also should apologize for the random, rambling nature of THIS post. I'm writing very quickly, not proofreading or anything. If you find a mistake here, well, I don't give a fuck.)

And I know people have left some comments, and I haven't had the time to read them yet. I will get to it, I promise!

And when I say I promise, I don't forget about it or make childish excuses why I didn't follow through, like the majority of the population.

Why haven't I had time to be here? Glad you asked. I've been working on a NEW screenplay, entitled, It Happened At The Porn Shop! (The exclamation point is part of the title - just FYI.) It's the story of a college kid who gets a summer job working at an adult superstore, and his interactions with the bizarre characters who inhabit the place. I am culling material from my own time working at such a place, which provides me with a plethora of stories and colorful characters, and spinning it all into a quirky, raunchy comedy. It'll make Vinny's Law look tame by comparisson. The outline is finished, and I'm currently working on the first draft. I'll keep ya posted on its progress.

That's where I've been, and why I haven't been HERE. But I will get back here soon, I promise. In the next few days, at the very latest. I'll check out the comments, respond, (undoubtedly, LOL,) post some new stuff. It'll be a party. Just be patient for a little longer.

Thanks.

Lemme ask you a question. Do you have a Facebook page? Chances are, you do. Most people do. I know people who don’t own computers, yet are on Facebook. Not quite sure how that works, but apparently it does for some people.

But that’s neither here nor there. And really doesn’t have a lot to do with the point I’m trying to make here. Which I will get to – in my usual meandering, circuitous way.

You’ve been here before. You’re used to it, so don’t start bitching and whining now.

I also have a Facebook page. And I keep it for a multitude of reasons. Probably the same reasons a lot of people do. Like to keep in touch with people you don’t get to see all that often. Maybe they live in another state, or work an opposite shift. Or maybe you don’t really want to hang out with them, but you don’t mind exchanging comments with them now and then. Whatever. I’m sure you all have all of these kind of people in your lives. And of course there are also the people whom you DO see, and it would just be… rude, if they weren’t on your friend list, wouldn’t it?

It’s also kind of a fun place to go when you’re bored. You can participate in some of those goofy little quizzes. They can be fun, if you don’t take them too seriously. You know, if you’re not a huge douche-waffle about it, like some people are. And there’re also the games on there, which I’ll admit, I sometimes play. I’m not embarrassed about this at all, and I don’t see why I should be. Yeah, I do play Mafia Wars, and the farming game. It’s a fun little diversion for ten minutes out of my day.

But hey – if you don’t get into any of those games, that’s cool too. It’s a BIG Internet, with room enough on there for everyone.

And you DON’T have to be a bleeding cock-socket about it like some folks are. With their little groups. “I don’t care about your mafia or your farm or your fish or your pets,” or any of that crap. Leaving nasty messages, threatening retarded shit like, “I will de-friend anyone who posts anything about games on MY page!”

Yeah, because THAT’S more mature than playing Fishville, or whatever it is.

Fuckin’ tools.

Should be, “To each their own,” right? But I know some people are gonna look at that and try to turn it around. “Well, you said ‘to each their own’, and what I wanna do is complain and whine like a spoiled schoolgirl about people posting their progress in a game instead of posting something REAL! They’re ruining MY Facebook page with all of this crap that I don’t care about.”

FUCK YOU!

That was my knee-jerk response to these people. But I suppose for, “to each their own,” to truly work, they have just as much right to childishly bitch as someone else does to brag about whacking seventeen “mobsters” and getting a special bonus. As long as you realize it does mean you’re a bleeding cock-socket.

And it’s NOT the same as what the game-playing folk are doing. They aren’t coming onto your page and leaving comments about what a waste of life you are because you’re NOT playing the game, are they? Of course not. Has anyone EVER done that? No!

Getting pissed at or making fun of someone because they managed to find a little joy in something, a few minutes of happiness, from something that really isn’t impacting you all that much, isn’t terribly inconveniencing you, well that makes you a bleeding cock-socket.

Have ya figured out yet that I kinda like that term?

Anyway, that’s not really what I wanted to talk about. I know, I know. I already said that once. What can I say?

I’m feeling somewhat whimsical today.

What I really wanted to talk about was an entirely different aspect of Facebook. And by extension, any of the other social networking sites. Because I DO have a small issue about them. One thing that just strikes me as ridiculous. Y’know, considering what the sites were all initially designed for.

That issue is the whole “privacy” thing.

I do not understand why everyone is so concerned with people being able to view their profile. That’s retarded. Unless you’re under the age of sixteen, which, okay – I’ll give you that one. That makes sense.

What doesn’t make sense is if you’re OVER the age of sixteen. C’mon, really? “People might be looking at the stuff I post.” Well, yeah. Duh. That’s kinda the fucking point!

“But some of what I post might be private.” Well then, DON’T POST IT ON THE GODDAMN INTERNET, EINSTEIN! If you have something private to share with someone, share it IN private! Dumbass.

Because part of the reason for the existence of these sites is to meet new people. Tough to do when hiding behind all kinds of privacy software. Really people, stop and think for a minute.

Oops! I just said a “bad word,” didn’t I? Sorry. My bad.

And while I’m thinking about it, I should apologize for saying “My bad,” when what I meant to say was, “My mistake.” People who say “my bad” always end up sounding like uneducated hicks. Like they can’t wrap their already over-taxed minds around a multi-syllable word such as “mistake.” Yeah, that is a brain-bender, isn’t it?

Anyway…

Where was I? Oh, right. People hiding on Facebook.

I first noticed this shit a few years ago on MySpace. And it has carried over onto ALL the social networking sites. Where you have 700 options for different things you can hide. Let only certain, special people see, or everyone, or only people whose names end in “ie,” or stuff people can only see on Thursdays between 4 and 6 PM. It’s fucking mind-boggling to me.

Seriously, if you don’t want people knowing something, DON’T POST IT! Period. Anywhere! At all! Seems fairly simple to me, but people really do seem to be dolts. If you don’t want people looking at your pictures or profile or comments or any of that crap, you don’t belong on a social networking website, plain and simple. You’re completely missing the point of why they exist in the first place.

Jackass.

And here’s another thing, on a somewhat related note. Over the past few months I have watched dozens of people posting this crap about these different applications. “Click here to find out who’s been viewing your profile.”

Again, why is everyone so concerned with this? Why is it such a big fucking deal? Why do you care so much who’s been looking at it? Why are we as a society so fucking obsessed with this shit? And the hypocrisy. “I need to know everything about everyone else, but I don’t want anyone knowing anything about me!” What the fuck is that? Seriously?

Does anyone ever really graduate from kindergarten any more? I’m starting to think not. In fact, i’m starting to think everyone out there is treating life like one long-ass episode of Romper Room.

I’m gonna let you in on a little secret here. Every single one of these applications is complete bullshit. Not a single one actually works.

Just for fun, I went to a handful of them. I clicked on some of the links provided whenever someone posts one of these, (which is, by the way, a far bigger waste of ones and zeroes than any of the game posts – just sayin’.) and followed the instructions.

I did each one several times, right in a row. Several times within the space of a few minutes. And I got different results EVERY SINGLE TIME. All they do is randomly grab names off your friend list. That’s all it is – completely fucking random. They have NO WAY of knowing who is looking at your page, or how many times.

The only place that information is stored is on the Facebook servers themselves. NO other application has that data. Facebook has released numerous bulletins about this, and still people ignore them. Facebook itself has no application for tracking visitors, and no one else does either. It’s all a bunch of crap.

Look, if you wanna know if someone’s been lurking around your page – ASK THEM! You stand a much better chance of knowing who’s looking at your stuff utilizing this method.

Of course, you gotta hope they aren’t lying to you. Surprisingly, people are known to do that from time to time. Right to your face, even! Could be a slight flaw in the plan. But it STILL stands a better chance of succeeding.

Now I think I’m gonna go round up my mafia, and whack a few unfortunate bastards.

Have you ever been sitting alone in the dark, wondering at the reason you can’t seem to make relationships in your life work out? You try and try and try again, bless your little heart, but something always seems to go wrong. You could continue to read my ongoing series of dating tips, (or wait for the forthcoming book.)

OR…

Have you ever thought that the problem might just be that you’re a whore, or a slut? But maybe you juuuuust don’t know for sure?

Well then, it’s a good thing you’re here. Because I can help.

Let’s jump right in and start by finding out whether or not you’re a whore.

Oh – and despite what many people seem to think, (and remembering that many people are idiots,) the terms “whore” and “slut” are NOT the exclusive province of chicks.

…

Okay, perhaps “whore” is… mostly. Despite the existence of the always inaccurately-utilized “manwhore.” (We’ll get to WHY that word is inaccurate in a moment.)

For now, let’s get back to finding out if you’re a whore. Which is a fairly simple test, when you strip away all the bullshit. It boils down to pretty much just one question.

Do you fuck people for your own gain?

Now, I’m not talking about emotional needs, or sleeping with your boyfriend/girlfriend so they won’t find a replacement who will. (Although that would be borderline.)

I’m also not talking about figuratively fucking someone, such as a lawyer or politician does. I mean intercourse.

No, by gain I’m talking about material goods. Tangible items or services. For example – money. (Yeah, I started with the most obvious one.) But it’s not only money. Fucked a guy you aren’t in a relationship with, just because he bought you something? Be it jewelry or dinner or drinks or paid to have your car fixed, or whatever. You’re a whore. Slept with someone to coerce them into keeping a secret you don’t want anyone else knowing? Whore. Spread your legs for the teacher to secure a passing grade, or to improve your grade? Whore. Had sex with the boss to get or keep a job or promotion? You guessed it.

Whore.

That’s what the word means. Offering sex in payment for goods or services. Doing this makes you a whore. It’s that simple. No exceptions.

Which also kind of explains why “manwhore” is a misleading, inaccurate term. It’s used to describe guys who will fuck anyone, any time. You know, guys in rock bands. And that’s NOT, as we have demonstrated, what “whore” means. The proper term would be “manslut.”

Or, y’know, just… slut.

And that provides the perfect segue into the second part of our test. Are you a slut? And fret not! There’s an easy way to figure this one out as well.

First, figure out how old you are, in years. I know the law of averages dictates that for some of you, this could be difficult. But here’s a little trick you can use, free of charge, if you’re having trouble with this.

Look in your purse, or pocket, or wherever you keep your wallet. Locate said wallet. Pull it OUT of the purse, (or pocket, or wherever.) Within the wallet, locate your driver’s license. Printed somewhere on the front is your birthdate. Grab a calculator. (I can’t help you find that, having never been to your home.) Look at a calendar, (or your cell phone,) and figure out today’s date. Subtract your birthdate from today’s date.

This is how old you are.

Really.

Now, if you don’t have a driver’s license, because you aren’t old enough yet to get one, but are still stuck on the age question, ask your mom or dad.

If you’re an orphan, or don’t have a driver’s license because you’re a drunk – fuck you. You’re on your own. There’s only so much I can do to help you from here.

Okay, now that you know how old you are, (or you’ve assumed the fetal position under a table because you still can’t figure it out,) it’s time for the next part. Yes, this half of the test has multiple parts. But don’t worry – I’ll continue to walk you through it.

And the second part is… how many different sexual partners have you had? I know, I know. If I thought the age question was tough for some of you, this one could cause some folks a fuckin’ stroke trying to figure it out! AND it leads to the math portion of the test. Don’t worry though – we’re almost to the part where you find out whether or not you’re a slut.

All you have to do now is compare the two numbers. If the number of partners you’ve had is smaller than the number that represents your age… REJOICE! Call your mom and let her know everything’s okay. (Again, unless you’re an orphan. In that case, no one will care.)

However, (here comes the down side,) if the number of partners you’ve had EXCEEDS the number representing your age, (that means it’s BIGGER, for the morons,) then yep, you guessed it.

You’re a slut.

Ya might wanna reserve that off-white wedding gown now, just to save time later.

There. That wasn’t all that tough now, was it? Sure, you might have to live with some bad news, depending on whether or not your goal was to be a slut. I should mention however, (and perhaps should have earlier, but better late than never,) that if you aren’t honest about either of the numbers, (SHOCKING, I know, that some people would lie!) If you try to… fudge either of them, you’re automatically a slut. Simply because there’s no other reason TO lie about it.

And I know that some people might not look at being a slut as a bad thing. They’ll try to rationalize it by invoking the time-honored adage, “Practice makes perfect.” And perhaps that’s true – if you’re talking about playing darts, or learning a second language. But in this case, practice makes for a disease-infested, morally ambiguous Human cesspool.

Y’know. A slut.

And there you have it. You can now easily know if you’re a whore or a slut.

And knowing is half the battle.

(I won’t sing the theme song.)

Oh – and in case you were wondering whether or not I passed, (and yes, to me “passing” means not being a whore or a slut,) I will say I am most definitely not a whore. And I do have… some open spots left to fill before I am a slut.

Well, the “holiday” season is over, but that doesn’t mean the pointlessness and outright stupidity need to stop, does it? Not if the various entertainment organizations get to have their way.

And they do.

Actors, directors, producers, and all the myriad hangers-on. The sycophants and pseudo-celebs jockeying to position themselves to suckle from the teat of actual accomplishment – only to find that actual accomplishment hasn’t shown up tonight, and is in fact, out actually accomplishing something. The endless, mind-numbing repetition of the acceptance speeches. Some half-witted or washed up, (or both,) comedian spouting tired jokes, trying to bring humor to the spectacularly unfunny.

That’s right. Award season is upon us again.

Several groups have already had their night. I don’t know who won, since I didn’t hate myself enough to actually watch any of them. I did look up the “winners” afterward, but somehow in the intervening weeks I have managed to forget who won, well… everything. Not really a surprise, or that big a deal. Nor am I alone. Nearly everyone except the winners have forgotten who got statues. Or plaques. Or ten dollar gift certificates to White Castle. Whatever it was they “won.”

Hell, I’m willing to bet some of the recipients themselves have already forgotten. That’s what happens when every single group in the movie, music and television business has to have their own awards. They become completely meaningless.

And now we’re right around the corner from the Big Daddy of them all – the Oscars. Which of course have been completely meaningless and just plain… wrong for years now.

I mean, just look at the winners in the “Best Picture” category over the years. I’m almost 40, and only TWICE during my lifetime has the Academy gotten it right. Only twice has the film that won “Best Picture” actually been the best movie released that year.

Twice in 40 years is NOT a good track record.

(In case you’re wondering about those two movies, they were Rocky in 1976, and Unforgiven in 1992. Both exceptional films in pretty much every way, and well above and beyond the competition those years.)

In the (relatively) distant past, the true best film of the year would at least get nominated. But even THAT doesn’t happen any more. Just look at this past year. The two movies that stood out the most were Star Trek and The Hangover. Two VERY different films, to be sure, but both outstandingly well done.

Neither one was nominated. Not really a surprise, given the Academy’s history.

Even though this year the Academy expanded the nominations in the Best Picture Category from five to ten. They doubled the number of nominations, and STILL didn’t manage to nominate the actual best films of the year.

Go ahead. Try and tell me the Oscars aren’t a bad joke. I dare you.

And what did get nominated instead? What “gems,” what little-known, barely-seen piece of cinematic poop have they dragged into the limelight, pretending they were the only ones who truly “get” what the filmmakers were trying to say?

District 9.

I am one of the 100 or so people who went to see this movie. And I DO “get” what the filmmakers were trying to say.

They were saying, “We have NO fucking clue how to make a movie worth watching.”

District 9 is garbage, plain and simple. It was a pointless story, without an ending. The acting was crap. The script was crap. The direction was crap. The effects were crap. The movie was just… crap. And not one of the people coming out of the theater I saw it in had anything even remotely good to say about it.

So naturally it gets nominated for Best Picture, while movies that didn’t suck ass are ignored.

Offhand, I can’t recall what the other nine nominees are. I could easily look it up, but I don’t care enough. The fact that District 9 was nominated most effectively proves my point.

STOP!

Don’t read this entry yet. At least not until after you’ve read this one, Just in time for Hallmark Day.

It’s okay – I’ll wait.

…

…

…

Almost done? I’ll give you another minute.

…

…

Okay then.

This is sort of an addendum to that other entry. A chance for me to address one of the things that was left out of that one. I touched on most of the major dating mistakes chicks make, but for some reason missed another one of the really big ones.

The “second chance.”

Second chances are a funny thing. Not the typical “Ha-ha” kind of funny, of course. (Although I pretty much never mean the “Ha-ha” kind of funny when I say something’s funny. I could almost stop saying that, but then I remember that there are new people reading, who might not have read all the other entries, and thus will not know I don’t mean the “Ha-ha” kind of funny. I don’t want them to be confused. Also, a lot of people are just retarded, and need constant reminders of simple things. And after all - I’m here to be helpful.)

So as I said, I mentioned most of the bigger dating mistakes chicks make, but left out one of the important ones. As we’ve already seen, most chicks seem to have a thing for douchebags. And a lot of ‘em don’t seem to ever outgrow that particular idiocy. Oh sure, they’ll get rid of a guy now and then, and swear up and down that, “That’s the last time!”

But we all know it isn’t.

Yeah, they might spend a few days, or even a couple of weeks, insisting they just want someone who will care about them, support them and their dreams and desires – a nice guy. And we ALSO all know they’re gonna ignore that nice guy when they find him, (although odds are they already know him – again like I mentioned in the previous entry.)

But first – they’re gonna give the douche a “second chance.” Because everyone deserves a second chance, right?

Well, no. That’s not exactly true. The nice guy – if he ever gets a first chance – does NOT, apparently, deserve a second chance. Perhaps because he is never the one who causes the relationship to fail. Hell, he never did really have a chance.

But the douche? Yeah, he is inevitably gonna get that second chance. And sometimes MORE chances. And the situation gets exponentially more retarded each time. Until she is finally done with him, (because everyone on the planet except her KNEW it was gonna end disastrously,) and moves on to the next worthless turd who promises to treat her like crap.

You know who else gets a second chance? Murderers. Rapists. Pretty much any kind of criminal - even child molesters.

But never the decent guy. Kinda makes ya wonder, doesn't it? (It should.)