I made this desktop wallpaper for those of you who are interested in two really naked and really hot devil chicks.

That’s fucking metal.

 

When I used to write for the QW!, I was known as the one to write the EMO posts.  You know the type, the soul-searching, woe is me, make me feel better and kiss-a-boo-boo styled drivel that plagues most “online journals”. (read: Ego-masturbation)

With a box of tissues at the ready, I’m hunkering down to write my greatest emo masterpiece.  Are you ready to bear witness to my pussification?  I hope so.

I’m 26 years old, and in a little over a month, I’ll be 27.  I’m a married home-owner, who basically writes his own ticket at work.  Financially, I’m ok.  I’m not rich, but I also have just about everything I want (within reason).  My wife doesn’t care if I watch porn, smoke out, and play videogames all night.  I work from my home 3 days a week.  I pretty much have it made, right? 

Somehow, it doesn’t feel like it.  Now, listen, I’m not saying that I have it bad, but I won’t say I’m lucky.  I worked hard to get where I am, and I’m not afraid to say it. 

Here’s the ultimate problem:  I have all these things, all these positive things in my life, and yet, my life feels empty. Mind you, I’m not slitting my wrists or popping pills for attention.  I’m relatively happy, but at the same time, left with the feeling that at the end of the day, none of anything that happens in our lives really matters.  Nothing that we do today, will affect generations to come in a positive way.  Not in any real sense.  What can we do about it?  Not much. 

I’m also overwhelmed by the devisive vitrolic culture that has rooted itself in our society.  We’re at this point where you are damned if you do, damned if you don’t.  You know why I don’t give a fuck about politics?  Because when it’s all said and done, there isn’t really anything we can do about the things we don’t like.  Mostly because the entire system is flawed.

It’s not just politics, either.  We, as a general rule, don’t really give a fuck about our neighbor next to us.  Oh, we pretend that we do, but the reality is that most of us, myself included, are too wrapped up in ourselves to think about the next guy.  We have no sense of community, no great purpose.  We are bones and meat, a series of synapses and chemical reactions.  And frankly, we’re nothing more than animals who are self-aware.

I’m constantly asking myself, “So, what now?”, because I feel confused.  I’ve done the things that I’m supposed to do, and yet, still find no relief from the ever tormenting question.  Part of me, believes that there is more to life.  But for all you devout church goers out there, faith isn’t going to do it for me.  I’m too savvy to fall for a few tomes of magic tricks and ghost stores (read: Thanks King James’ Bible!).  But if not religion and faith, what can fill this void of unknown?  Can’t there be some kind of real tangible evidence that we are more than just evolved monkeys who can drive fast cars and fuck fast women?

Now, you’re probably saying to yourself, “Hey man, didn’t this guy just write about how shitty blogs are and why I shouldn’t give a fuck about the authors?”  And you are right.  You shouldn’t give a fuck that I’m feeling this way.  But you SHOULD give a fuck if YOU feel this way as well.  I may be just some dope-head geek with a penchant for violence, but you probably aren’t.  And if I’m not the only one feeling this way, then man, we’ve seriously got some problems collectively.  I see the end of our species on the horizion, man.

OR maybe I should just stop writing when I start smoking, if you know what I mean. *Sly poke, and taunting wink*

Listen, I don’t know if you’ve noticed, but just a few years ago, no one knew about blogs or ‘bloggin’. When I started my site (on blogger in the beta stages of what has now become the true bane of my very soul), it was about entertaining my friends. My buds, who were just as bored at work as I was, joined me. We wrote to make each other laugh. I never really gave a fuck what readers (that’s you) cared or thought. We had a solid run. We started gaining readership and readers, who we abused regularly. We bought a domain, got new hosting software, and basically invented the “blogreview” (We nothing, it was all Maine.)

And things were good. We had 5 authors at our prime. 5 of my best friends. And they made me laugh daily, and in Elwood/Jason’s (not JJ, for the uninitiated) case, sometimes 50 times a day. Man, that guy posted a lot. Eventually, we had to stop doing the QW! site. Basically, someone lost a job over it, and was then threatened to be blackballed by certain government organizations. So, when we quit, some of us branched into other sites.

Fast forward a few years. Now, it seems that everyone and their brother (including fucking characters from tv shows) have a blog. I imagine these individuals rushing home to blog their thoughts (which are, at most times, neither interesting nor entertaining), and show the world “just how special I am”. I imagine them with smug little looks on their face as they spout out their “Mundane Ramblings On the Edge of Reality from a Crazy Girl/Guy On a Quest to Find Himself/Herself”. (Did I miss any shitty blog titles? Come the fuck on, people) I imagine them fastidiously clicking the “Get Mail” button to see if anyone commented on their funny post about how people in the coffee line are really dumb and how Sheila, the bitch at the office, pissed off the wrong person today! I imagine all of this with clarity, constantly reminding myself that the world is full of fucking retarded, trite, ignorant, callous and decidedly petty people. Am I dismayed at this revelation? Not quite. Do I liken the blogging world to an adult High School? Fucking Absolutely.

Which brings me to today, on one hand, I can name at least 8 ‘die-hard’ bloggers who have ‘quit’ blogging. Usually with some dramatic statement, indicating just how profound they really were. It is these people, who have renewed my dream of the End of Days. Am I a dick? Absolutely. But are you not entertained? Wait, let me put on my gladiator’s costume and scream that, “ARE YOU NOT ENTERTAINED?!?!?!!?”

The thing I love about guys like JJ or Maine (from that QWMaine site) is that while they put a lot of effort into their “Insane Ponderings of A Girl in the City”, they take it with a grain of salt. They’re self-deprecating, and aware that their blog is just as stupid as any other, and not some Tome of Lore that will be mulled over by Bambridge Scholars.

But you see, that’s what seperates the cream from the whey, as it were. These guys are truly like that. When we get together, we might talk about some existential theory on the true meaning of life (thanks, MaryJane!), but at the end of the day we know we’re abso-fucking-lutely retarded and no one cares about what we think. Does it stop us from being ourselves? No. But we’re not going to be winning any Nobel Peace Prizes anytime soon, either.

“So, Ev”, you blithely ask, “What’s your fucking point?” My point is merely this: No one cares about you, your life, or your blog. The only readers you ever really had, were most likely friends of yours (or friends of friends). Anyone else, just came to your site to get traffic, or spam ads for penis enlargement, free prescription medications, or games of Texas Hold’em. To quote Tyler Durden: “You are not a beautiful and unique snowflake. You are the same decaying matter as everything else. You are the all singing, all dancing crap of the world.” Get the fuck over yourself.

Incidently, if you now hate me and want to tell me off, please feel free to do so. Just don’t be surprised if I don’t care.

Yes. It’s true. I’m posting again. And it’s gonna be a long one. So grab a snack, roll a j and let’s do this.

Most of the time, I’m a nice guy. But, like everyone else, I have push button topics that set me off. Education is number one. Or the state of education in this country, rather. Apathy in politics is number two. And the third, and probably most important is ….Religion.

You see, I don’t believe in anything. Not because nothing exists, but because I’m pragmatic. You see, I believe that religion existed at one time to guide civilization. And it served that purpose. It gave people dumber than Jessica Simpson and Homer Simpson combined a simple and clear direction on how to live life. Complete with “top 10 rules you should never, ever fucking break - GOD”. Eat that, Letterman.

And so it went that religion was basically a way of using fear (all that wrath and hell fire gives me a nice rubbery one) to afford humanity an opportunity to survive each other and further the human race.

And honestly? That’s something I can get into.

But the problem now, today, lies in the fact that Religion is a crutch. People pray for miracles and for the world to be fixed, instead of trying to fix things themselves and/or getting involved. This isn’t the only problem with religion, I mean, there is all that magic, ghosts and D&D shit. Seriously? Water into wine, plagues of frogs, hail and urine? Where’s the +99 Staff of Jesus? The Ascended Ark of Duplication? Fuck.

Another problem with religion today is the “My morals make me better than you” mentality that certain religious right members are strutting around the country.

Before I said that I’m pragmatic, but in my heart, I’m still an optimist. I keep hoping that something will happen on this planet to make us realize that the things we keep doing to each other are monstrous. That maybe if we really tried to cross boundaries, show how different we are from our ancestors, and really work together as a world race, life would be immensely better. And yet, I know that there cannot be any kind of God, because the irony is that we will never, and can never make that utopian society happen; because we are violent and somewhat evil by nature. That’s why being bad feels so good.

Who’s to say? Tom Cruise could be right, and there could be some Alien SuperGod out there. Right…..And tomorrow I could be crowned King of America, but I’m not polishing my scepter any time soon.

Ok, I’m actually going to write a post for The Churn-stile.

(Calm down, just breathe. JJ will probably post tomorrow, and I’ll go back to making weird cartoons. It’s ok. I’m ok. You’re ok. Actually, fuck that. I. AM. NOT. OK. And you fucking aren’t either. Doesn’t honesty feel better?)

So I’m talking to this friend of mine (and yeah dude, it’s gonna be vague, because I don’t know if his/her significant other reads this site.), and I get told that he/she (henceforth known as Dana) is thinking about having an affair with a coworker.

Now, you guys know me, I’m married. My wife was married once before as well. To a guy who cheated on her like there was no tomorrow. So, naturally she has a skewed view, in regards to “cheating bastard cockpricks”[sic]. And like Jules tells Brad, that pretty much means I’m required to subscribe to the exact same doctrine.

But, seeing Dana so excited, yet miserable and torn has made concrete a theory that I’ve been working on.

• Guys cheat because they truly and completely think with their dicks.

• Gals cheat because their significant other simply doesn’t communicate with them. Or doesn’t go carpet diving. You know, either one.

*Note: You’ll notice that these are vague, broad generalizations about human nature and I’m basing it on absolutely no proof. Hey!, if it’s good enough for Dubbyah then it’s good enough for me.*

So, Dana is torn about cheating, and yet still plans to do it. And the following conversation happens:

Dana: So, does this make me a bad person?

Me: I don’t know…jeez…I hate to say it, but I think so. I mean, jesus, you’re married.

Dana: Yeah, and I love (SUSIE/JOHN), but lately things have been so difficult. We hardly talk, and God, I can’t remember the last time we (George W. Bush Whisper Style) liberated our sexual freedoms (/George W. Bush Whisper Style).

Me: But don’t you owe it to (SUSIE/JOHN) to be honest? I mean, what if (SUSIE/JOHN) is having an affair. How are you going to feel if that’s the case?

Dana: Well, that’s different. I don’t think I can forgive that.

Me: Are you fucking retarded? You expect to be forgiven for what you’re going to do, and yet admit that you wouldn’t forgive (SUSIE/JOHN)?

Dana: I mean, yeah, that’s what I’m saying, I guess. Why are you so hostile, aetheist?

Me: Excuse me? What does aetheism have to do with fucking around on your spouse?

Dana: Well, I mean, Marriage is only a religious thing, right? So why do you give a fuck?

Me: ……

Dana: What?!?

Me: You’ve got to be fucking kidding. You’re using aetheism to validate your need to “bus’ a nut”[sic] and at the same time negate any responsiblity for your actions?

Dana: Well, yeah. I mean, seriously, we’re not meant to be monogamous. I’m just lonely, you know? I want to feel that connection.

Me: No you’re not. You’re bored. And you want some excitement. Do what I do, download some porn, get out the lube and rub one out. Then, tell me if you still want to cheat.

Dana: That’s not going to fix the problem.

Me: Well, yeah, considering your problem is your marriage.

Dana: What?!!?!?!

Me: Look, if you’re that hard up for a lay that you’re going to cheat; with a coworker, no less, then you need to go home and talk to your spouse. Because obviously things are seriously wrong.

Dana: You’ve never lusted after someone else?

Me: Oh, no, I’m not saying that. I lust after chicks all the time. Hell, at any given moment on any given day, I’m probably lusting after some chick. I mean, raw dog hardcore degrading shit, you know? But then this weird thing happens in my head, I have an entire relationship with that chick inside of 5 minutes, and you know what?

Dana: What?

Me: At the end of the day, my wife treats me better than any of them would. Look, if you can honestly tell me you don’t love or respect (SUSIE/JOHN) then do it. Fuck who you want, when you want. But if you can’t tell me that, you owe it to them to either: A) Fix things at home or B) GET A FUCKING DIVORCE.

Dana: Whatever. I don’t even know why I talked to you about this. You’re such a dick.

Me: You’re just mad that I’m an aethiest (that’s an entirely different argument) and I happen to be right about fucking everything. And the worst part? You feel guilty because you don’t have the stones to face up to what you want or want to do.

Dana: ….

Me: *sigh*Fine. You are right. Cheating is fine. I suppose that’s why it’s called ‘Cheating’. Do what you will, who am I to judge?

So, in the end, I guess Dana’s friendship is more important to me than Dana’s marriage. Sorry, Dana’s spouse. My bad.

To me, the thing that is revolutionary about this is that I called Dana out. Not only did I say what I honestly thought was right, but what I really felt. And that kind of honesty, amidst all this Cloak and Dagger Co-Worker Fucking, gave me a chubby.