Hold the Glimmer

#Shit Duke Says…

Posted on: March 8, 2012

He awoke from the haze of a six month hangover on March the 8th, in this foul year of our lord 2012…

Shit.  It’s Thursday.  I’m stuck in a box with no windows.  And somewhere outside this dim closet the sun is shining on people who’ve probably made far better life choices than myself – or yourselves, for that matter.  Because if you had any brains you’d be out there enjoying the day too, instead of slaving away for time off you’ll never get to take.

Let’s stop right there before I take you to the dark place too early.  Explanations will not be administered for where I’ve been and why I haven’t written.  Those of you who know me understand that I tend to disappear for hours, days, months at a time.  If you don’t know me… well, you’re starting to get the picture.  Our inconsistent rapport will eventually lead you to the conclusion that I’m the trainwreck cousin who shows up at Thanksgiving with a different look and new trashy girlfriend every year, only to rail against an establishment I never quite challenged head-on, then leaves sloppy drunk and doesn’t call again until Christmas – to tell you things have changed and I’ll be doing missionary work in Liberia through spring.

There I go rambling again.  The point I was trying to make is that Whitney Houston was a terrific singer, and it’s a fucking tragedy what happened.  Whitney, and Amy Whinehouse, and Lindsay Lohan… what? Oh Lindsay’s still alive?  She can’t sing, either?  Sigh… where have all the talented drug addicts gone?  I wonder if heaven’s got a coke dealer…

Alright let’s reel this thing in, because I haven’t even started yet, I don’t think.  So let’s focus on the substance.  The real reason I haven’t written, besides the lack of motivation, time, or thoughts worthy of wasting paper/webspace – is that nobody reads anymore.  Sure, you read the headlines that NPR posts on facebook.  But when was the last time you finished the article?  No, you’re into the internet memes about what your parents think you do and what you really do (spoiler: your parents think you do nothing that matters, you actually do nothing that matters).  You’re checking out the gif of some kitty falling off a table, or the latest youtube video about Shit Douchebags Say (something  something something FAG! something something let’s get some PUSSY!).  And if you  feel the itch to make a difference in the world, update your status to what color bra you’re wearing to fight against breast cancer, or grow out your chest hair to show solidarity with Greek austerity.  But you’re certainly too busy being interesting to care about what anyone really has to say, or what’s actually going on around you.  You’re too fucking busy being an armchair activist.  Maybe you’re sitting there saying “well what the hell have you ever done to make a difference?”  “Not a mother flippin’ thing,” I reply.  And even if I had (which I have), I wouldn’t tell you – because I’d rather entertain you with my sins, and hedge them privately with good deeds, like putting strippers through college.

All you have to do, to change the fucking world, is watch this goddamn video, and share it with 13 people, or else Kony is going to steal your grandmother in the night and make her a Ugandan prostitute. Isn’t this just a sophisticated version of the old chain emails from myspace?  Facefuck has become an amazing place, where information is shared and movements have taken shape.  But I hate to burst your bubble, awareness is not a movement.  Cures, solutions, revolutions, they don’t come about because you’re aware of the problem.  If people sat around at work and sent each other videos of kids dying from Staph infection – we’d still be waiting for someone to invent penicillin.  Hitler didn’t burn in a bunker because of viral internet memes making fun of his Michael Jordan mustache and love for killing Jews.  And, as powerful as twitter is, it still couldn’t stop Ahmadinejad from stealing another election and throwing anyone who protested in jail.  So keep updating your statuses to complain about gas prices – just don’t forget who’s slapping economic sanctions on who next time you’re at the pump.  Hashtag just sayin…

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2 Responses to "#Shit Duke Says…"

What the fuck is memes! And I barely found out what SMH was a week ago from the guy who pisses sitting down. At any rate, I like the comment you made on being an Armchair Activist. I don’t think one person’s doing something will equate to anothers. Funny that we can do as a verb even when the verb is sleeping, sitting, or jacking off at 2am in the middle of the night.

And the part about “Missionary,” I’m hoping that was like a triple pun intend with you in a church and a Nun, doing a certain position where you’re on top of her with her… Well, you get the picture.

So chum, family only sees and hears your great stories during Thanksgiving huh?

And why does heaven exist? It’s suppose to be the happiest place on world where we could do whatever we like but I’m not guaranteed these pleasures until I die? If my heavenly dream was to bang that hot nun at Church, are you telling me I’ll be doing this in Heaven? Is that Nun in heaven even another soul that passed or some artifical “spirit” shit that was made for me to bang endlessly?

Or I could have that option now and fulfeel it like it was real, now. (And yes, I typed ful-Feel. Bite me asshole).

Damned mind virus memes…always popping out, here or there, maybe in a tunnel, maybe not…existing for the sole purpose of fulfeeling their own needs…I should be catching up (phrasal verb in the present progressive) on grading and writing quizzes, this partly cloudy afternoon, but instead decided to catch up on HTG rants…only one for April?

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