monkeywithabutcherknife

Well I finally got the static pages to work on this bitch of a site. Believe me, reading through thousands of lines of php code trying to figure out what the hell was going on was no fun at all. Anyway, watch for new content.

I’m an irredeemably eejitous, liberal, tight as fuck, pathetically simple-minded, dribbling child!
See how compatible you are with me!
Brought to you by Rum and Monkey

AAAAAAAaaaaaannnnnyyyywwwaaaaayyyyy. The only really surprising thing to come out of this is that the word eejitous is apparently not a word.

A group of friends of mine were so impressed with my site that they decided to start their own. I’m flattered. Whatever. Be that as it may, they are new to this and it might be nice if you no commenting bastards that visit my site went over there and visited thiers. http://brokenwaterline.com

Conspiracy theories all have a few things in common: Someone
is watching and is genuinely interested in your daily life, and that if you
aren’t careful, then something really bad would happen to you. There used to be
many gods that would watch over different aspects of life. Crops, war, love,
etc. but this became cumbersome because you can’t balance it all. Too much
attention to the god of love may anger the god of war and visa versa. The
answer was to simplify this process and only have one god, simply known as God.
The capital G somehow makes it a proper noun and not just a pronoun. But that
couldn’t account for bad things happening to good people, and even more
bothersome is the idea that good things happen to bad people. If you’re toiling
and sacrificing something of yourself in an attempt to please God and someone who
doesn’t do that has it better than you it can shake your faith. So the devil
was needed to rectify this. The industrial revolution spawned a similar
conspiracy in that if everyone is working in factories making cars and such,
then who would grow enough food to feed everyone? It certainly must have seemed
like a justifiable fear. Then came television and the information age, where
nothing was actually created at all. This seems nearly impossible for the human
mind to comprehend.

Conspiracy theories usually come from some fundamental misunderstanding of the world. This
inevitably leads to Fear, Uncertainty, and Doubt. These are all powerful
emotions in of themselves but when you combine them all kinds of strange things
happen. Technology, in general, seems inspire more of each of these than
anything else in the history of mankind. The electric lights posed the threat
that the things that used to happen in the safety of darkness were now somehow
more visible. With the telephone it was a fear that others were listening to
your conversations and the idea that interpersonal communication would all but
deteriorate and die. Television was watching you as you watched it. Presumably
a team of well-paid government employees in an underground bunker somewhere
were logging the mundane details of everyone’s daily lives. Maybe it was the
same group of people who one time logged my phone conversations, it’s hard to
imagine exactly how the logistics would work. Around this same time, another
interesting phenomenon began to show up with alarming regularity: spaceships
and alien abductions. This is easily the most outlandish notion concocted by
the human race since God himself.

These things all seem to lend value to the participants. Religious folk insist that
God loves them because he made them and a book with questionable grammar and an
inconsistent plot told them so. Government conspirators insist that the
government is watching them and they’ll usually have some mundane reason why
they think so. Alien abductions, though, are much more rudimentary in that all
they know is that someone more advanced than them found them important enough
to travel unimaginable distances to stick a probe in their ass. Why them? They
can’t even fabricate a reason. All these things may be loosely based in guilt,
but I think more to the point, is that they contradict the anonymity of life.
The information age has punctuated this. Technology and specifically computers
have exaggerated this sense of anonymity. You can get on an Internet chat site and
no one talks to you. You can get an email address and no one sends you anything
until one day you get hundreds of messages; but their all advertisements. You
start thinking about making a web page and have trouble coming up with
something to even put on it. There are, literally, thousands of sites about
people’s car, and tens of thousands of sites about people’s pets on the
Internet. I don’t like to make judgments, but doesn’t that suggest that your
pet has a more interesting life than you? Then there’s the computer itself,
sitting there, humming knowingly. Aren’t there more things you can do with it?
I suspect that most people only use their computer for email, where they just
forward junk mail and crappy jokes to everyone they know on a regular basis, and
surfing the Internet where they bounce back and forth between dating sites and
pornography sites. And why shouldn’t people visit pornography sites on the web?
No one knows you’re there. It’s not like you’re going to run into reverend
so-and-so. It isn’t a real place and you aren’t you. People have started to
appreciate anonymity on the Internet. On the Internet, I can be anyone. I can
go anywhere I want, say anything I want, and nobody knows who I am. There’s no
signature, no identifying marks, the descriptions of myself only come from me.
The Internet is like a digital Vegas; everything you could possibly want to do
or see is there, its just a matter of how far you’re willing to go to get it.
The motto: ?What happens on the Internet never really happened at all? There
are differences however, in Vegas you can go to jail, on the Internet, no one’s
bothered to build one. In Vegas, a chance meeting creates a memory; a face, a
name, a time, and a place. Even if you lie about, say, your name, the fact
remains that you were still you at the time. On the Internet you can defy the
laws of physics and be in several places at the same time, which means an alibi
is difficult to come by. But then who would ask you for one?

Everything on the Internet is a dream. Everything on the Internet is fabricated and wrong.
It’s all a lie. It was specifically evolved into an instrument for overcoming
the limitations and frustrations of real life. It’s a secret meeting place for
people who don’t want to admit membership. For someone who feels alone and
unimportant in the world, who goes to an awful job only to come home to an
unappreciative spouse, who’s life didn’t even get close to working out the way
they intended, the Internet is a dream that doesn’t have to end and isn’t limited
to sleep. You can completely fabricate your persona, or several. You can make
yourself as important, talented, successful, wealthy, or intelligent as you
want. There are millions of places to exercise this persona. Places it can grow
and mature where you can see what works and what don?t. If you make a big
mistake and your past starts to catch up to you, simply disappear. You never
have to apologize because you never did anything wrong. It?s difficult to
imagine the possibilities because so much about good and bad, and right and
wrong has been ingrained into us over the centuries. The understanding has been
if you do something bad, especially if it’s profitable or enjoyable, then there
should be repercussions. But for repercussions to happen, someone has to know
you did it. If no one knows, and no one cares, then why don’t more people do
bad things? What’s the motivation to be good? The world could exist on the
principal that you get what you can take and take what you can get. This, from
what I understand, is basically how prison life is. So if you actually get
caught doing something bad and go to prison, at least you’ll be around
like-minded people. The Internet functions the same way only the prisoners are
in the wild, lurking around with the rest of us. If they can get something of
value, like a credit card number, or a social security number from you, they’ll
take it. Just like the real world, the Internet’s full of predators and prey
but it’s been a long time since mankind has had to think in those terms. There
are a few out in front that see this new world as a tremendous opportunity.
They are the explorers, the researchers, the hackers.

It came to my attention that UPN is conducting a regional casting call for America’s Next Top Supermodel today at the New Orleans Center. I noticed on the site that the casting call runs from 10am to 5am. At first I thought this was a typo but then it occurred to me that it may be that they want the strippers that work the day shift at Hooters to have a chance to audition as well. At least it explains all the additional crack-headed hoochie mammas running around the mall today. So sad.

THL’s post today reminded me of something sort of important and easily forgotten. I vaguely remember it from school: non compos mentis. It’s latin and means something to the effect of “not of sound mind”. Thing is, a couple of thousand years ago it was considered a significant problem to be out of your mind. There weren’t “chemical imbalances” and “disability”. People were more vulnerable then so they were a little more cautious. You can’t really blame them, just imagine a situation where your little town or tribe (whatever) has harvested the crops and stored them for the winter when your boy fuckitupitus goes and burns the shit down cause he thinks there are evil spirits in your stomach that make you hungry. Well, clearly, that’s a problem. But there were no ways to define the problem beyond “crazy”. Now, some people can be helped and that’s great, but its not what I’m talking about so just delete the hatemail you were about to send. The last thing I want to do is piss off every psycho on the internet who’s meds aren’t working.

moving on…

I also vaguely remember something about being declared non compos mentis was like having you membership to the human race revoked. The important thing to remember here is that if you’re not considered a human being anymore in the eyes of the law, then someone killing you isn’t murder. That’s a pretty cool concept. Instead of the death penalty you just declare someone ncm and if what ncm did pissed someone off enough – well, lets just say the problem will take care of itself. Saves the tax payers’ money and allows for a democratic exercise of justice. Real simple: you molest my kid = I stab you in the face and dance around in your blood. Now we’re even. But there’s more. Imagine all those serial killers out there having a ball looking for ncm(s). Now there’s some active participation in America’s Most Wanted. They’d be hunting you down for the rest of your life because they know they can get their bloodlust quenched without the whole ‘hiding from the cops’ thing. You’d be lucky to get out of the courthouse. There would be people hanging around waiting to old school your ass in the back with a sword before the echo from the gavel stopped bouncing around the room.

It’s not a perfect answer, mostly because of the whole guilt vs. innocence thing. But I do believe that there are things you can do that prove that you are unworthy of membership in the human race. Ideally, people would realize this about themselves and take one for the team. I mean, if you’re digging a torture chamber under the house and trying to figure out how to get little kids into it, then it might be time to think about hitting the ol’ 12 guage cosmic reset button so the only person you hurt is yourself. But then, not being of sound mind would probably hinder that kind of self actualization which is why the world is the way it is.

Look, Hippies, close the fucking door. The door is made of glass so you can see the different varieties of ice cream. There’s no reason to hold the fucking door open! This is the only section of frozen foods that is consistently all frosted over. I don’t have the patience to go into “the whole water vapor – condensation thing” but trust me when I tell you that the frost is from you and your fellow glossy-eyed, mouth-breathing cheeba monkeys holding the fucking door open. Stop it!! It’s a simple request. It’s not like I’m asking you to get a job or anything – and, wait, wait, before you start: selling “tobacco pipes” out of a duffle bag in the parking lot of a 311 or Dave Mathews Band show – or whoever you fucktards are following around these days since Jerry ate some cosmic ass a few years ago does not count as a job.

Now, close the fucking door!!

What are you supposed to say about Bastille Day anyway??

Quick history review: The French government, king ‘what’s his nuts the comical’ spent so much of the nations money supporting the American Revolution because croissants are more superior to english muffins, that the French people were starving to death. So Victor Hugo and that guy on the Le Mis’ poster got together and raided the Bastille at the advice of the three mustateers. The largest battle in the revolution is known as D-Day and was one of the largest troop mobilizations in the history of the world. Alexander was, of course, victorious over the Huns at the end of the day. Hitler killed himself, the Japanese signed a peace treaty aboard the U.S.S. Missouri, Manuel Noriega fled Florida in shame after not being able to find Pete Fountain, and as a result, we now have a free, democratic Iraq.

Look people, it takes more than drinking Molson on Cinco de Mayo to be cultured. The holidays of other nations, cultures and religions are a great opportunity to look into something you’d never otherwise have an excuse to be curious about.

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Above you see a baby macaque (right) and the winner of some ugly-ass dog contest (left). So here’s what I’m thinking: I want to get them both together; really together. Not in a biblical sense you sick asses, it’s just a baby macaque. Instead, I want to super glue the abdomen of the baby macaque to the head of the ugly-ass dog. Then put the dog on a leash and go walking past the PETA protest, into the Proctor and Gamble Test Labs. I’ll come walking out about fifteen minutes later counting a stack of twenties. That should do it.

Well, apparently, more people read this shit than I imagined. I realize it isn’t impressive from the standpoint of all the people on the internet but the site doesn’t even show up on search engines because my dad always told me not to litter. So it’s either from word-of-mouth or places like technorati.com who track and index blogs. I do index with them because it’s impossible to litter in a junkyard. Either way, thanks for reading and I’ll do my best to keep you laughing or cringing depending on how depraved you are.