Waxing poetic about paper
And yet again, a new year. A new beginning – which means I can offend a whole new generation of kids. I’m starting to feel downright old and it feels like I’ve been writing this site forever. Mind you, this is a good thing for you since you get to enjoy a fat back-catalog of Mastercard priceless content. And fatter it gets, just like every girl working down at Tim Horton’s. You do know that those cappuccinos have as many calories as Big Macs right? If you disagree, give it some thought when you finish your fifth extra large while ‘studying’. Ahem. Fat pig.
The ultimate weight loss program in Canada
Thanks to the gross ignorance of modern readers, I’ve now been dubbed “that guy who wrote that iPod MySpace article” or more often “That guy that quit Verizon and wrote that exit interview.” Let’s clear a few things up right now. First of all, your amazing iPod trendy fad generation has once again selectively ignored all the extra work I put into my site. Why should I even have more than those two articles anyway? I know the Verizon one is a legitimate comedy masterpiece and is canon to all humor on the Internet. I certainly know that the iPod MySpace article is New York Times-quality writing and should be read by anyone with a pulse. I’d know because I wrote them – easily, and without effort. I’ve been writing since I bought my first typewriter at a yard sale. I don’t even know a PC did things other than word processing until my friend showed me “copy a:\simcity\*.* c:\simcity\”. I pressed on, writing nonsense until I believed I was writing better stuff than what I was reading at school. Well, to be fair, Mrs. Frisby and the Rats of Nimh and Maniac Magee were absolute stunners, in the same way that watching Amy Reid videos can tighten your pants. Hell, reading Who was that Masked Man, Anyway? was an absolute revelation to me. A book entirely of dialog, with nary a single line not inside quotations.
Yes, they made a wrongly-titled movie out of it. Yes, it was horrible. Yes, they made a sequel
It was the first time I realized that you could paint a picture without any sort of description or exposition. It made crap like The Hobbit or Lord of the Rings an exercise in futility. I was a child with imagination – I certainly didn’t need JRR Tolkien telling me what the blades of grass looked like. He spend all day telling me what the texture of the wall felt like and not a single moment making me feel like a kid. I denounced his nerdy crap and enjoyed Hustler instead. It’s amazing what you can find inside a dumpster back in those days. Mind you, this was back when Pluto was a planet, priests didn’t marry altar boys and a computer was that Asian kid in your class (the one that smelled like opening a brand new Nintendo game bought at Toys ‘Were’ Us).
Truth is always stranger than fiction
I don’t read much these days. Children’s books are now nothing but a screenplay hoping to get pressed onto a 2-disc Special Edition DVD, and ‘adult’ books are just a hardcover version of Penthouse Forums. I turned to videogames for my literature, but wouldn’t know you it – they all now have full voice acting. Oh well, there’s always Archie comics. Oh wait – you need an empty USB port and at least 450MB of hard drive space for that. A 4x CD-ROM drive and Soundblaster or compatible sound card help, too. It’s a shame what’s happened to all of us. We’ve lost our innocence and it’s been replaced with Starbucks gift certificates so we can “catch up with an old friend.” I’d sigh if I wasn’t so into the sound of stroking my own egocentric contribution.
Cue up the Beavis and Butthead laugh for a good two minutes
That last sentence sounded so articulate, eloquent and sophisticated until you realized it didn’t make a fucking lick of sense. Careful about what you read, generation xxy. You can’t polish a turd. All you “poetic bloggers” can cram your emo crap – the only emo you’ll experience will reside inside a subdural hemotoma. I had to change the spelling to make it work, but most of you would have never noticed anyway. Sadly, I also had to italicize the punch line just so my cleverness wouldn’t be lost to some unknown percentage of you, uh…readers.
I kept writing over the years, always developing writer’s block whenever things started to sound awesome. I just kept writing new stories whenever I got discouraged. I held onto my 3.5” diskettes like they were tomorrow’s lottery ticket. You can replace everything with insurance money except your state of mind in the past. Like with Greedo shooting first, sometimes things aren’t like you remember. No one has the right to rape our childhood, and I’ll be damned if I let myself change one sentence of my old work. It’s silly and it’s stupid, but it’s my only physical memory of a life that led me to be who I am today.
I apologize so far if it sounds like I’m changing my tampon while watching Failure to Launch. These heart-felt emotional outbursts are caused by my distinct lack of watching Fight Club or American Psycho lately. Tyler and Patrick, I salute thee.
Moving back. I’m writing a book as many of you know. It’s called Regret Zero and it’s going to be the next great American novel (written in Canada). It chronicles my oft-misunderstood journey from being a miserable teenager to being a miserable 24-year-old with much too much free time. You get to be there for such entertaining antics such as losing my virginity (twice!), getting my ass kicked, telling off snobby exes and embarrassing the educational system. You’ll literally feel your balls or labia shrivel when I expose the shady past of the artist formerly known as Tommy v1.
I had previously announced the release date as April 31, 2005. A few concerned emails came the day before, or after
As for comedic content, it’s funny in the same way that you laugh at someone slipping on their icy front porch steps. In case that doesn’t amuse you, it’s also written by me and I’m a comedian. You will laugh, you will cry, and it’s better than watching Full House when Danny takes the Dustbuster to clean his vacuum cleaner. Don’t get me wrong – I think it’s hilarious. What you won’t find is anything like Friends or Frasier. I said it was going to be funny, after all. Frasier sucks. “Hey check it out, I’m the actor that plays Sideshow Bob! I’m funny because I’m English and speak quickly. Har, har <insert British colloquialism here>.” Sadly, Friends doesn’t even get a ribbing from me this time. I’d rather perform a hysterectomy on a rabid giraffe with scurvy than watch Friends. No sir, I don’t like Friends very much at all. Not very much at all.
I think 2007’s going to be a hell of a year for me. As my fan base grows and the hatemails keep pouring in, I become reenergized. Just remember, there’s more to v2 than some spiffy document scan or bitch slap for an entire generation of music listeners and social networkers.
Oh yeah - buy my book when it comes out; and girls – send topless pics with your fanmail. It won’t make you famous but it will make me happy to be alive. And that’s all we really want, isn’t it?
