Howdy folks, I’m back. Sorry about that little freak-out last week. What can I say? Sometimes you just gotta get in touch with your feminine side… then get the hell away from it before it turns you into a sweater-vest wearing interior decorator. Anyways, on with the show.
I’M FAT, DON’T BOTHER ME
Since I was eight years old, I’ve had a weight problem. I blame myself for this, and my heroic love of carbohydrates. Since I was nineteen, I’ve also had another annoying habit. I’ve spent a lot more time listening to chicks complain about their boyfriends than any man should be capable of.
For instance, I had this one friend, who was a real winner. She hooked up with this guy, and within two months she boned her ex-boyfriend… before boning the guy she was dating. Then she, sobbing, begged for his forgiveness and, being whipped and nowhere as good with women as he thought he was, he gave in.
I get this call while I’m trying to study for my fuckin’ FINALS from her. It’s her bitching for about an hour about how he’s hanging out with his friends instead of her. I get to Searcy, kinda ready to give this guy a talking-to, when the first thing he says when I walk in is, “I hate those guys”-meaning his friends she was talking about-and he “hadn’t seen them in weeks.”
Strike One: Cheating
Strike Two: Bothering a fat guy
Strike Three: Bothering a fat guy with lies, lies, lies!
Girls, if you see a fat guy, don’t start complaining about your relationship with some guy who’s taken care of his body. It just pisses them off. If you want to make a fat guy happy, give him a twinkie or a hamburger. Bitching is just a way to release negativity, but instead of transfering it, as some selfish bitches hope to do, it just spreads it. Then, instead of one sad person, you’ve got a sad person and a bored person.
Unless the fat guy is directly involved in the proceedings, don’t bother him with your bullshit problems.
There, least funny of my seven deadly sins out of the way. Now what?
THE NIRVANA MYTH
I never really got this, seriously.
I got Public Enemy. Do you have any idea how hard that is? To be an upper middle-class white boy, and ‘getting’ Public Enemy? I had to listen for hours to get into the mentality of them. To understand the appeal, and where they were coming from.
I can say no such thing about Nirvana.
I just…don’t… get it.
I’ve heard “Smells like Teen Spirit” and “Come as you Are”, and I’ve been put through their other stuff, too, all while the people playing the music tell me, “Can you believe this? Can you believe how good this is?”
“No,” I had to answer, “Because it really isn’t.”
Maybe I just missed the point somewhere. It just seems to me that Nirvana is liked because legally, people between the ages of thirty and ten are supposed to like them. They’re supposed to symbolize some form of depressed rebellion or something. But they don’t.
When “Come as you are” came on the radio when I was a kid, I changed the station. The song bored me. It still does. I just don’t get Nirvana. I don’t want to.
GUD SHARLOT SOLD OUT ROTFLMMFAO!!!!11!!!!!11!1!
Much has been said of this band, this “Good Charlotte”. Much has been mentioned of their initial goodishness and their quick descent into hatability. Will I say more? Yes.
This happens all the time. I remember people telling me how there was this cool new Mexican dance back in 1996. I saw the dance, and it sucked. I have a keen eye for this. Just like when all my ‘bros’ were rocking to Nookie, I didn’t. I saw that Durst was a bitch. Just like when Fifty Cent popped up on the scene, and I saw that he sucked, so I didn’t listen to him. I’m pretty good at this. I’m like the Annie Oakley of suckiness.
So when “Lifestyles” began to play nonstop, and my friends were “rocking out” to it, I heard that siren song of shit. The lyrics just weren’t that inventive-in fact, rather juvenile. The singers just looked like children going out on Halloween. They remind me of Avrile Levinstien-grr! Look at me! I’m this stereotype! Grr! Look, my lyrics are spelled with numbers! Argh! I’m a pirate!
Popular music bores me. It has since 1997. When “Push” became a hit, they should have just loaded up a bus with all the popstars, present and future, and driven them into the roaring, fiery mouth of hell.
I’M DEPRESSED, KILL ME NOW!
You know why teen suicide is up? Because music has changed.
Back in the old days, songs were happy. Did you know in the 90’s…1890’s… “The Cat came Back” was a big hit? Like a monster hit?
“The cat came back, the very next day, the cat came back, they thought he was a goner…”
God! How could you kill yourself to THAT song? You couldn’t. You’d be too embarassed.
Flash forward a hundred years, and you’ve got Ben Folds singing about his girlfriend getting an abortion, and how sad it is. We now have music styles that appeal to any emotion- Alternative (Depression), Metal (Hatred), Techno (Shamelessness), Pop (Homosexuality). If you’re depressed, pop in something depressing… and get more depressed!
Half these people who write depressing songs have nothing real to complain about. Eric Clapton lost his son, and he had “Tears in Heaven”. That was justified. What do these kids have to complain about now? Did your mom make you take out the garbage? Did your girlfriend not call you back on time? Jeez, share your grief and depression for when you need it, and trust me, there will be a time. Like right now, since my column’s done.