October 31st, 2008 - Fuck You Number 13

First and foremost, Happy Halloween all.

Now, for the matter at hand.

I was reading over my cellphone plan yesterday, and I saw that I spend $20 a month for the capability to send an unlimited number of text messages. Really?

One more time.

Unlimited texting capabilities. What the hell is wrong with me? Do you know what that phrase means? It means, that from here on out, if I never want to speak to another human being over the phone, I don't have to.

This is absolutely unacceptable.

I have essentially become what I ultimately hate about our society. I've become too lazy to pick up a telephone and dial seven, or Christ help me, ten digits. I have come to a point where I will send, "I love you," to my sister on the other line. Really? I've resulted to sending short, concise, and often unintelligent sentences and thoughts. I've become a part of this rapidly declining roller-coaster plummeting toward the fiery depths of hell. When I get to the point of writing, "LOL," or worse yet, "LMAO," shoot me.

Why do we text? Why do we subject ourselves to such incredibly impersonal forms of communication? I can understand the concept of an email. I can write as little, or as much as my little heart desires. Hell, I can even attach other messages and letters to it, if I so choose.

But texting. Wow. What a terribly disrespectful way to communicate. In so many words, we're telling the recipient of the text message, that they're not important enough to call.

Fuck text messaging. Fuck the fact I am allowed to write more than a simple, "yes, or no" in this ridiculous form of communication.

Cheers.

October 28th, 2008 - Fuck You Number 12

Okay, so, please read my previous post. Let's get it clear people. You have to READ the post. You have to understand the words in the context of the sentence they are used in.

For example, if I was to say, "I love this thing, more than life itself," I'm not really suggesting that I love the object in question here more than life itself. That, would be absurd. Life, even in a society characterized by capitalistic schmucks, is better than not-life.

Read into it people. It's the clothing. A metaphor, if you will. I speak of the way we've all begun to take less respect in our appearance. Largely in part to our laziness. There once was a time when we as a society would wear our Sunday's finest out to Wrigley Field to consume hot-dogs, while watching America's finest baseball team lay pine-to-leather in America's most famed ballpark. 

The point is, care for your appearance. Some people can pull the "hipster" look off, because they live the lifestyle, and simply look cool doing it. Shit, Axl Rose wore leather every day of the week...I'm guessing those that followed in his footsteps aren't sitting in on any, "board of directors" meetings. For the rest, dress in a way that's gonna allow you to interact with others on a more personal level. Whatever garb you decide to throw over your head, make sure it's fitting, and it makes you feel comfortable. You'll feel better about yourself, which in turn will allow our society to grow.

After all America, that's my only purpose to composing these posts, to facilitate America's positive growth.

Fuck those people who try to find something to complain about (whoops, kinda me). Seriously, read through it, and try to find the underlying meaning of things. You'll learn more.

Cheers.

October 27th, 2008 - Fuck You Number 11

I sit here in Denver, Colorado. A beautiful city, indeed. So beautiful, it's hard for me to find something to gripe about.

But, fear not, I might have something. What's with the new "hipster" thing? Am I getting this old? I don't know when it became the "in" thing to paint on your jeans, find the oldest pair of Chuck Taylors, and comb your slicked-black hair down in front of your eyes so no one can recognize you. Honestly, this is "cool" now? Our forefathers would be infuriated. 

I don't think a person could look any less respectable. 

Now, I'm not discrediting these individuals as humans. I'm sure that there are quite a few personable, and good-natured persons beneath all of that rubbish, but I wouldn't know, as I'm immediately turned-off by their bizarre appearances. 

I suck. I know. And I might be a little judgmental. 

Sue me.

Fuck hipster dress. Fuck the fact that looking like you're off to a funeral for Glenn Danzig is seemingly cool in the eyes of our ever-failing society.

Cheers.

October 26th, 2008 - Fuck You Number 10

When someone holds a door open for your as you're rushing into the convenience store to get that much needed Diet Coke, do you take note of it? When you're standing in line at the grocery store and the woman standing in front of you lets you checkout first because you are only buying a roll of paper towels, do you see this and thank her? When someone does something out of the ordinary, do you say to yourself, "Wow, that doesn't happen everyday?" More importantly, do YOU do any of these things for others? Do you go out of your way to brighten someone's day, if even for a moment? When was the last time you held the elevator door open for the person jogging through the lobby, even though you were late for work?

These little things don't happen all that often. They're becoming somewhat of a rarity. It's too bad too, because it is these little things we're missing out on everyday, that help our society flourish. It is these small acts of kindness that make people realize that despite the wars throughout the world, and the crime riddled neighborhoods we drive through, humans are still good. We are still here to make this world better.

It is these little acts of kindness that we need to bring back to this world. These unselfish, pure, and genuine acts that let the person next to you know you're aware of the fact that there are other humans you share this planet with.

That's the word. Sharing. Something we're taught at a very young age. Share, America. Share the world with one another.

Fuck selfishness. Fuck this perpetual need to want anything and everything that you see.

Cheers.

October 24th, 2008 - Fuck You Number 9

As I sit here in the airport waiting to board my flight to lovely Denver, Colorado, I look around and notice our society in one of it's most splendid presentations. This place is one of the last places on planet Earth where you can see humans treating their fellow humans with love and benevolence. You can still see the independence and individuality of each unique person, yet a beautiful harmony still exists among the scurrying travelers.

Next time you're in the airport, take note of the hugs and kisses for and from our loved ones as we enter and exit the terminals. Try to recall the smiles and sparkling eyes from each airport employee you come into contact with. It will happen. You'll see it.

It's amazing.

Today I won't say fuck you, as I'm actually witnessing something I approve of, and appreciate.

Today, I will say, "good work, society."

Cheers.

October 21st, 2008 - Fuck You Number 7

What gives?

This morning on my way into the office, I approached a traffic light that was green, giving ME the right of way. I noticed that there were cars in the lanes adjacent to me slowing down, so I copied their actions, and began to apply pressure to the pedal on the left. As I nearly came to a stop, I emerged from the cars on each side of me, and I saw the obstruction that was prohibiting traffic from moving in the direction in which it should have been. A silver Prius sat in the middle of the intersection waiting to turn left. His light was red. He’d been sitting there as I drove up to the light, for at least 30 seconds, while multiple cars made their feelings known to him. Once all of the traffic in the intersection had come to a halt, this almighty man made a left hand turn into my lane.

I looked to my left and right and saw my fellow drivers shaking their heads erratically, some of them pumping their fists in the air and screaming obscenities behind the glass windows of their vehicles. One thing was for certain; from here on out, I was going to be driving amidst a sea of extremely pissed-off motorists.

Sure enough, as I flipped on my blinker to signal to the drivers behind me that I would be merging into the lane on my right, I was greeted by the middle-finger of the driver behind me. What a lovely man. As I nudged my Mazda across the white line separating the two lanes, the driver behind me veered into the left lane and immediately applied the weight of a thousand men onto his accelerator. He was apparently extremely inconvenienced by my vehicle's necessity to occupy the lane from which I’d be turning in a few short moments. I received yet another friendly gesture coupled with the blaring of his horn as he sped by me.

Fuck road-rage. Fuck that fat son-of-a-bitch in the white Escalade whose day was seemingly ruined when he had to unexpectedly stop at a light which was instructing him he could move forward.

Cheers

October 18th, 2008 - Fuck You Number 6

I have a younger sister, 26 years-old. She's a beautiful woman. Smart too. She has everything going for her. But for some reason, she is more interested in Brangelina than the upcoming presidential election. She would rather know where Lindsay Lohan was last seen belligerently flailing about, than where our current economic situation is heading. 

I blame the three publications she receives on a regular basis, People, US Weekly, and InTouch. In the name of everything that is holy, why are we still wasting our natural resources printing these god-awful journals. 

Seriously.

Has there ever been one intelligent thought put into these three "should be used for toilet paper" publications? Honestly, occasionally People will publish a semi-compelling story about a woman who lost 60 pounds after she overcame her urge to uncontrollably shove hotdogs in her mouth. But, is it newsworthy? Is any of the ink on the pages in InTouch newsworthy? US Weekly has a section called, Just Like Us. This section is dedicated to showing celebrities in "real world" situations, like Macaulay Culkin walking his dog down a busy Melrose street. Or Nelly Furtado eating ice-cream. 

Holy shit. Stop the press. Literally. Nelly Furtado eats ice-cream? You've got to be kidding me? She's like, a star, or something. She, like, couldn't eat ice-cream.

Fuck celebrity tabloids. Fuck the editors of these magazines for pounding this inconsequential information into our brains.

Cheers.