Category Archives: Myspace

How AIM Can Decide What Type Of Person You Really Are

Today I have an AIM profile quote that my brother emailed me. It was in this 8th grade girl’s profile and I’m not quite sure what it means, but I will tell you a main thing that I gained after reading it: liver cancer.

There are different types of people in this world.
First there are the bitches- they just don’t have a life so they go around creating drama for entertainment.
Then, there are the whores.. pretty self explanitory.
Third theres the liars. These could be possibly a mix of the other two above; and everyone hates liars the most. You could probably name at least one person that you know of who used to be a friend who’s a liar now.
The last type of people are the chill people. These people are your best friends.

Please ignore the misspelling of “self-explanatory,” the improper use of a semi-colon, and the overall headache enforced by this worldly saying. I kind of, sort of get what this girl is hinting at—mainly that everyone who isn’t her friend is a lying bitchy whore—but I do feel that she left out some main categories of people in the world. That is why I have built off of this pathetic profile quote in order to make it the complete list of different types of people in this world.  Please note that if you do not fall into one of the catagories, you are not human.

Mountain Bikers– These are the people who won’t stop bragging about how cool their bike is. Oh wow I get it, you’re bike weight 14 ounces and you once road it up a hill, here’s an award.

Co-Pilots– They just sit in a cramped chair all day hoping that the pilot doesn’t die. The only time they see any action is during take off and landing, and even then they don’t do the real important stuff. The only cool co-pilot was Kareem Abdul Jabar in the movie Airplane. So unless you’re 7 feet 2 inches and won 6 MVPs, you’re job sucks.

Myspace HaversThese could be possibly a mix of the other two above; and everyone hates them the most. You could probably name at least one person that you know of who used to be a friend who’s got a Myspace now.

The People Who Invented Go-Gurts– Congratulations, you made it so that kids don’t have to look like dumbasses going to school with yogurt. That doesn’t mean you’re cool. (okay maybe it does).

People Who Watch Will & Grace– .. pretty self explanitory.

Cocaine Dealers– These are the people who threw their life away, ignored education, the law, their church, and their parents, yet still make more money than teachers, police officers, and priests. Nice life lesson we’ve learned there.

MTV Show ProducersThey just don’t have a life so they go around creating drama for entertainment.

Led Zeppelin Fans– Cool, you like the music of the band that plays Stairway To Heaven and a bunch of other drowsy songs. You’re much better than everyone else on this earth and should be worshipped. NAHT.

The last type of people are The Jackasses. These are the people who will do anything for a laugh, even if it results in them breaking a bone or losing a girlfriend. They have no life morals and generally think with their dicks. They can never be trusted and will at any point smack you in the balls. These people are your best friends.

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Filed under AIM, Comedy, Myspace

If It Ain’t Broke Don’t Cheez-It

If there is one thing I hate, it’s people who opt to complicate stuff that is naturally simple. Something that, unaltered, would be the easiest, most basic form of that entity, but people feel that is it there job to “make it better” because they drive a Lexus.

Take, for example, the art of communication; something that is constantly being developed and changed. Tens of thousands of years ago, man was a primitive species. He would sit around the cave picking the crust out of his belly button and grunting at his wife. Thankfully, man has evolved exponentially from this archaic time. Now we have Xbox. Back in the time of the caveman, the only form of communication was through pictures. Everyone drew pictures for everything. Stars, rivers, trees, bears, and rocks were all displayed as a genuine drawing on the cave walls. Unfortunately, the average caveman had the intelligence of apple juice, which led to some very interesting pictures. That is why, today, archeologists can all be found sitting in a circle debating over the meaning of a certain cave drawing. “I think it’s a dog,” one of them would guess, rubbing his chin; “although if you tilt your head this way, it looks like a volcano.”

These primitive wall drawings did not help the cavemen very much. They would be in their caves, gnawing on tree bark when, suddenly, a massive Tyrannosaurus Rex would come barging through the forest, demolishing the landscape and obliterating everything in its path. “Look out!” the caveman would want to yell, but he wouldn’t warn any of his friends without a canvas to draw on. So, acting quickly, he would have to scamper around the cave, find a piece of chalk, scan the walls for an open spot, decide how he’s going to depict a T-Rex, draw the T-Rex, and present it to his family. And by the time all this happened, the caveman’s house would have been ruined, his family would have been eaten, and his insurance premium would have been raised. Sadly, even with the great advancements in modern technology, innocent people who draw on their walls are still being relentlessly attacked by slanderous, blood-crazed dinosaurs: our mothers.

Seeing as how the wall-drawing method of communication led to destruction, the cavemen—who, after thousands of years of evolution, had now discovered fire, weapons, and the Department of Motor Vehicles—decided upon a new structure of expression. This form consisted of four of five different grunts, moans and wails to relay ideas. For example, “Grr” may mean “I need food,” “Run for safety,” or even, “$13.47 is your total, please drive around.” This new system enabled the cavemen to still draw on their cave walls, but now they could label their drawings with words. The only downfall with this evolved form of intelligence was distinguishing the definition of each specific grunt, moan and wail. Archeologists were now found sitting in circles, Indian style, arguing over what each “word” meant.

“It obviously means ‘we need to find water’,” one would point out. “Clearly not,” another would rebut. “It must mean ‘look out!’.” But no matter how much they argued, not one of them would truly know because archeologists don’t know anything.

This type of communication progression continued over hundreds of thousands of years. As the cavemen evolved into human, forms of conversation also matured. Grunts became words; words became sentences; sentences became paragraphs, and paragraphs became Shakespeare plays. In time, people would be able to openly talk to each other, share stories, and—most importantly—scream at each other on Jerry Springer. At that point, thanks to man’s gift to comprehend one another through distinguished sounds, one could understand someone in case of an emergency. “Look out!” we would yell to each other; “A landscape demolishing T-Rex is about to consume you!” And instead of the hassle of scribbling on a cave wall or agreeing upon the definition of “Ugh,” we would avoid utter chaos. And it was at this point in history that all of mankind sat back and relaxed, knowing that they had created the perfect form of communication, right?

WRONG!!! People wanted faster, simpler types of language. They wanted to be able to talk over a great distance without much effort, and they wanted it NOW. Because of this, scientists invented things like smoke signals—which is where a complicated language is broken down into random puffs of smoke—Morse code—which is where the same complicated language is broken down into random dots and dashes—and carrier pigeons—which is where a heavily decorated army official relies it’s entire military strategy on a bird with the brains of confetti.

Needless to say, these forms of message-relaying didn’t last long (birdfeeders in New York were receiving blueprints to nuclear weapons). But luckily, a new invention was brought to life that would soon change the entire face of communication: the Cotton Gin the Internet. With the help of the internet, people were able to freely display messages that could be viewed by anyone from anywhere at anytime. Instead of relying on retarded birds to send a message, general could post their army orders on an online blog like this one for their commander to read overseas.

oH mii GaWd, the post would read; tOoDaii Wii aTtAcKeD dOzE gErMaN BiiTcHz. This would allow the army commander to track the progress of his army without “those German bitches” finding out. Of course, with every technological advancement comes a horrible downfall, and the convenience of the internet allowed opposing forced to intercept messages sent by their enemies. Fortunately, we don’t have to worry about that here because Germans are too stupid to use the internet.

As time passed and technology advanced further, communication fell further and further away from simplicity. The internet gained a list of complex rules that were never to ever be broken and was punishable by—at minimum—death.

1. Do not present any explicit images on your webpage
2. Cite everything you display to confirm clarity
3. Do not EVER use Wikipedia.

These laws of the internet made it much more difficult to communicate. Now, in order to send the daily happenings of a battle, the army lieutenant would have to write, “We are moving out forced northwest into Poland[1]” This citation would let the general of the around know that the lieutenant wasn’t lying and moving his forces somewhere else like, for example, Mars. Likewise, if a disaster were to strike and—somehow—a dinosaur were to attack a major city, innocent civilians would only be able to yell “Look out! A terrorizing dinosaur is about to crush your car[2]” otherwise people would doubt that it was actually a dinosaur and could confuse it for another terrifying creature, like Drew Carey.

According to the Arlington High School librarian, you must constantly cite your work. She says that whatever information you include in a paper/project/poster that is not “known information by all” must have a source available from where you got it. For example, if a person you were researching were said, “kill those pigs; death to police. I want to shoot all pigs in the head with my gat and bathe in their crooked blood,” you would have to include a citation in that essay to prove that the person who said that was, in fact, Mr. Rogers, because that is not known information by all. Also, you have to keep in mind that if you were presenting to a 3rd grade class, you would have to cite basically everything you said because 3rd graders don’t know anything.

In high school, citing sources in simple: you write down made up information, cite it with a made up website, and pray that no one checks your source. Unfortunately, even though citing sources has grown fairly simple (Step 1: Lie. Step 2: Lie about lying), communication continues to confuse people. With today’s modern innovations, anyone with a cell phone can send a message across the world; allowing people to openly interact without having to physically meet. This newfound convenience has led to pen pals, business negotiations, and pedophilic rapists. Over phones, computers, and organizers, child molesters are able to contact children without actually talking to them; something that is not only scary but very very real. Just two seconds ago over 4 thousands teenagers were kidnapped by abductors over the internet
(source: http://www.pleasedontcheckthissource.com).

So how can we use our new, sophisticated technology to prevent these men from harnessing our communication machines for evil? Simple, we just need to stop displaying our personal information everywhere we can. There is nothing worse than when a girl gets abducted and raped and then wonders how the guy managed to find her. The guy found you because you had your name, address, school, social security number, and favorite flavor of ice cream displayed in flashing lights for everyone to see. If everyone wants to stop getting stalked by these guys, eliminate the one thing that’s attracting them. Yeah, you know what I’m saying: DESTROY YOUR MYSPACE.

I’m not going to ramble on about how much I hate Myspace and how much is sucks because a) I don’t have that much time, and b) I may grow angry and punch my dog. Instead, I will simply remind you that the reason women and children are getting murdered, cut in into hundreds of pieces, and mailed to every major city in America is because they have a Myspace.

So here we are folks; in the present of our time. We are the most advanced species in the world; and by “we” I mean “Americans.” The U.S. Army is the most disciplined, best trained, and more expensive force in the known universe. We can literally aim a nuclear missile within four feet of our target anywhere around the world; we can digitally track and duplicate anything with a pulse and— best of all—we can rewind TV. The only thing American can’t do is kill Osama Bin Laden. A while ago I watched a documentary on the U.S.’s “relationship” with Bin Laden. The documentary was your typical type: boring and four hours long, but I did learn one interesting thing from it. According to some man, American soldiers were actually able to pick up the radio of a dead Islam and hear Bin Laden’s voice on the other end. Do your realize how close we were to him? We could have hit the most hated man in America with a thrown rock, yet he still got away. Why, you ask? Not because he doesn’t have a Myspace (he does: http://myspace.com/americamustdie), but because of communication.

You would think that in a time like this, in which robots vacuum our house and deep fryers cook out food, we would be able to communicate properly. You would think that upon the finding of Osama’s location, the troops would have quickly received orders from the Secretary Of Defense (or whoever the hell was put in charge of killing Bin Laden) as to what to do.

And thanks to today’s technology, they did. Upon hearing that Bin Laden was close, America sent an urgent message out to their troops. They did this by first starting up their computer, then by easily signing in, forgetting their password, remembering their password after hours of blindly guessing, waiting for their email to boot up, checking their inbox, getting distracted by a friend’s funny email, calling that friend to tell them how funny their email was, forwarding the email to everyone on their email list, creating a new message, writing out “Storm Bin Laden’s cave,” trying to send the message, realizing that they lost internet connection, reattaching the internet plug, rebooting their computer, opening their email again, retyping “Storm Bin Laden’s cave” (this time with a quick spellcheck), and finally sending the message.

Meanwhile, over in Afghanistan (or wherever the hell Bin Laden was hiding), the U.S. army was receiving the message. They did this by starting up their computer, signing onto the internet, moving around to try and find a strong wireless connection, accessing their email, double clicking the attachment, changing the batteries of their wireless mouse, double clicking again, uploading the file, downloading the file, installing the file, reinstalling the file, subscribing to the company that hosts the file, restarting their computer as to confirm the installation, opening the document, downloading the newest version of Microsoft Word, subscribing to the Microsoft Office gift package, re-visiting the file, and finally reading the message, doing the hokey pokey, and turning themselves around. By this time, Osama Bin Laden was thousands of miles away eating Dominos Pizza and watching Caddyshack.

What I’m getting at is that if the world had simply stayed with the simple form of communication instead of adding all the complicated crap to ruin it, we would all be better off. And even though I’ve just spend 13 hours rambling on about how communication is the only thing ruined by this technological innovation, there is something that has been destroyed even worse. Something that originally triggered my hatred for complexity; something that has been working perfectly for decades, and something more precious, more substantial, and more important that communication. Thanks to greedy, despicable lifestyle of America, they have ruined the Cheez-It.
The Cheez-It has gone by many different names. They include “America’s favorite snack,” “America’s favorite treat,” “America’s favorite food,” and “The best damn cracker to ever be made.” And it’s true! We all love Cheez-Its! Whenever I have friends over my house the first thing they grab are the Cheez-Its. And what’s better, the Cheez-It was even broad-minded enough to release different flavors of itself. Now, people who claimed that they didn’t like regular Cheez-Its could enjoy white cheddar, parmesan and garlic, cheddar-jack, and even reduced fat Cheez-Its. In a word, the Cheez-It was the balls.

But that wasn’t good enough for the big bad Kellogg Company. They were under the impression that the old fashioned Cheez-It wasn’t good enough for the advanced society of America. They thought that the old Cheez-It was like the cave drawings in that it needed to be updated. So they invented Cheez-It Stix, the newest form of cracker. The Cheez-It Stix is essentially the exact same as a Cheez-It, only it looks different, tastes different, and was hated by all of America the second it was made. I realize that people want new things, but no one truly recognizes the damage that we’re doing with the invention of this new snack. If Cheez-It Stix replaces the classic Cheez-It, who knows what could happen to the old cracker (“Old Cracker” would be a great name for a band). My guess is that it would become a beggar on the street; a washed up has-been asking for change only to be ignored by its once loving fans. This would, in turn, lead to it committing suicide and leaving a painful note:

To the few who cared and the rest who changed. You can not live life knowing that someone is better than you; knowing that someone will always be younger, stronger, and taster. That is why I have taken my life.
~~Cheez-It

Of course, we wouldn’t know if he actually killed himself or not, because he would have forgotten to cite his sources.

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Filed under Comedy, Myspace, Something

Touched By An Aiken

Once in a lifetime, a person gets the opportunity to do something amazing; something that they may never be able to do again and will remember for the rest of their life. These close memories include graduating high school, getting married, having a child, and talking to a pedophile.

Statistically speaking, there are over 146,000 pedophiles located in your house. They hide in your cabinets, dressers, sofa cushions, and closets, waiting for you to go to bed so that can beat off on your face—leading to the infamous saying, “go to bed with gum in your mouth, wake up with cum in your hair.” And even though these men are all around us, we rarely see them, let alone talk to them. Hell, they could be your neighbor, teacher, parent, or even priest, and you would never even know. Oh sure, there is the occasional molester who gets recognized for a retarded talent they barely possess, like, for example, Clay Aiken. If anything, Clay Aiken has taken pedophilia to the next level by writing a song about it! His one hit wonder, “Invisible,” was released in 2003, a few months after losing American Idol to a big sweaty grizzly bear. The song is a vocally active ballad talking about a crush he has on a secret lover, most likely a young child. Here are a few lyrics taken from Clay Aiken’s song, “Invisible”:

Whatcha’ doin’ tonight
I wish I could be a fly on your wall

If I was invisible
Then I could just watch you in your room

Wish I could read what goes through your mind
Wish you could touch me with the colors of your life

If that’s not enough proof to put this man in jail for being the most pedophilic person alive, then I don’t know what is. “Wish you could touch me with the colors of your life”?!? What the hell man!?

Although everyone knows who Clay Aiken is, few have actually talked to him. It is very rare to talk to a child molester, and if you do talk to them, it’s very hard to tell them apart from regular 40 year old wierdos. A huge problem of this being Myspace.com, which surprisingly only lasted a few years, and has since decreased. Myspace allowed people to talk, message, watch, and share pictures with thousands of pedophiles, all the while thinking they were 14-year-old boys. Luckily, the amount of Myspace users has dwindled down to nothing, because America as a whole has matured greatly over the years, and we now like being stalked via Facebook.com.

I have talked to a pedophile. I have laughed with a pedophile, and I have been invited to a pedophiles house. Only I didn’t contact this molester through Myspace or Facebook; I conversed with him/her through the next best thing: AIM. Here, we discussed many important topics such as where I live, how old I am, where (s)he lives, how old (s)he is, and if (s)he was willing to pick me up from school to hang out.

Not to worry, it’s not like I told him the truth. In fact, according to the pedophile, my name is Sedoc Rab (“Bar Codes” backwards) and I live in Harrison, Maryland and I’m 17 years old. And, according to him/her, she is 16 years old, lives in New York, New York, and is willing to have sex with me for money. The guy/girl who wanted to do the molesting was very convincing, except for the undeniable fact that (s)he forgot one detail: Girls never want to hook up with guys. It is always the guys that are forced to do the pressuring and convincing to hook up. At no point in your life has a girl ever approached you and gone, “hey do you want to hang out after school? My parents aren’t home and I know where my dad hides his condoms.” It is always the guy who is forced to trick the girl into hanging with him, so you can understand why I was a little suspicious when I had this conversation with him/her:

iiMaTeEnAgEriiSwEaR987: hEy

RandyQuenchVFM: Hey, who’s this?

iiMaTeEnAgEriiSwEaR987: Kriisten, who’s this?

RandyQuenchVFM: My name’s Sedoc Rab, how did you get my screen name?

iiMaTeEnAgEriiSwEaR987: iiDk, ii tHiiNk mii cOuSiiN gAvE iiT tO mE

RandyQuenchVFM: Who’s your cousin?

iiMaTeEnAgEriiSwEaR987: Rachel

RandyQuenchVFM: I don’t think I know her. Where do you live?

iiMaTeEnAgEriiSwEaR987: ny ny u?

RandyQuenchVFM: Maryland

iiMaTeEnAgEriiSwEaR987: how old r u

RandyQuenchVFM: 17, you?

iiMaTeEnAgEriiSwEaR987: o00o iim 16 :-*

RandyQuenchVFM: Are you hitting on me? For all I know you could be a tuke chick that smells like diarrhea.

iiMaTeEnAgEriiSwEaR987: lmao rofl lol roflmao

RandyQuenchVFM: You wouldn’t even be able to see me, you live mad far away

iiMaTeEnAgEriiSwEaR987: id drive down to see you

RandyQuenchVFM: Really? You weirdo

iiMaTeEnAgEriiSwEaR987: yeah especially since youre hot :-*

RandyQuenchVFM: What the hell? You don’t even know what I look like! And how come you’re not talking LiiKe tHiiS aNiiMore?

iiMaTeEnAgEriiSwEaR987: lmao rofl lol roflmao

This continued on for a few minutes until I finally just came out and yelled “I KNOW YOU’RE A 40 YEAR OLD WHO WANTS TO TOUCH MY PENIS!!!” and then (s)he stopped talking to me. Too bad though, because it would have been cool to have a pedophile as a friend, especially if it turned out to be Clay Aiken.

Something I’ve been wondering:

I have groups on my AIM buddy list labeled Kids, Younger Kids, Family, and WTF?!?! (people I don’t know). What are the groups labeled on a pedophile’s buddy list? A few guesses are:

Kids I’ve Touched
Kids I Haven’t Touched
Boy Who Think I’m A Girl
Girl Who Think I’m A Boy
Myspace Victims
People I’m Going To Kill After I Rape
Family

If you are a child molester, or know one, please help me answer this question because I don’t think I’ll be talking to this pedophile again. In fact, I doubt I will ever talk to a pedophile again seeing as how a) I will never meet Clay Aiken, and b) I don’t live in Los Angeles. I’m just glad that I have fulfilled one of my many lifelong goals. Next goal: to get chased through a crowd of people naked, all the while getting chased by all of my pissed of friends who are carrying iron weapons (sort of like Jackass, only my friends will beat the crap out of me if they catch me).

Regardless of your race, sex, intelligence or religion, I highly suggest getting hit on by a pedophile. I guess it’s just always good to know that you’re hot enough to seem attractive to the people who are at the bottom of the social chain. Like, for example, Clay Aiken.

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Filed under AIM, Comedy, Myspace

I’m At My Culmination Of Anger

Okay, I have to get this off my chest because I am getting more and more frustrated at MySpace as I speak. Today’s topic: Why people find it acceptable to think they can affect another’s life through their Myspace name.

As much as I hate Myspace, I end up using it because most of my favorite comedians have it. Dane Cook, Jim Gaffigan, Demetri Martin, and Patton Oswalt all have famous Myspaces that post all their upcoming albums, TV shows, and tours (not like I’d be able to go to any of these tours because I’m too poor and I have no friends, but still). And when I read these comedian’s profiles, I see the pathetic retards that leave them comments. Rich bastards who managed to see these guys on tour and felt it absolutely essential to tell them:

Saw you in Lakewood last night, it was the culmination of my being… Great show!!!!

I’m confident that no one will ever benefit from this message, nor will Jim Gaffigan (whose Myspace I took this from) ever read it. And if he does read it, I’m sure he’d stare at it blankly and think something along the lines of

What the hell does “culmination” mean?

But that’s not what I’m talking about now. I’m talking about when people take the space they’re supposed to insert with their Myspace name and substitute it with a sentimental, impractical, piece of crap saying that they most likely stole from a Fall Out Boy song. For example, one of my good friend’s name is Sara, but for some reason she refuses to put that as her Myspace name. Instead, she found it more appropriate to have it read:

Its like: this year, my year, you here, who cares?

Likewise, I say someone else’s “name” read Carpal Tunnel Of Love, to my surprise is actually a Fall Out Boy song.

If you are reading this website and laughing to yourself, you a) have no life and b) most likely have a Myspace. I suggest you go and change your Myspace name to an actual name, or I will find you.  And when I do, I will make sure your children grow up to become drug addicts and then when you go to your 20 year High School reunion all of your peers will laugh at you. And if you don’t have a Myspace, you and I are probably wondering the same thing:

What the hell does “culmination” mean?

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Filed under Myspace

What?! Girls as BULLIES?!?!

If you haven’t already figured out by now, I have way too much free time on my hands. In school I generally sacrifice my class work to write jokes, and I have given up homework at an early age. The extraordinary amounts of spare time I have on my hands usually leads to me reading a book, scanning the internet, or—when I grow extremely bored and begin to contemplate suicide—watch Mad TV. Today, I was taking a break from my Spanish project (and by “taking a break” I mean “not doing”) and was surfing the net for a funny news article. I stumbled across a few good ones, to which the titles read:

Cell Phone Catches Fire
Burns man over half his body

Mom Who Threw Sons into Bay Convicted Of Murder
Woman claims “they were dirty”

American Idol Back For another Year
Everyone still wants to kill Simon

Out of all these articles, I seemed to find this one the most interesting. According to the article, a group of so-called “female bullies” beat the crap out of this 12-year-old girl, and then posted to video of the attack on the internet. Bystanders claimed that the 7th grade girl was chosen at random, and the 9th grade bullies:

Pulled her hair, kicked her in the head and body, repeatedly slapped her in the face, and then stole her Pokemon cards.

I have referred to my friend’s site countless times (and my “countless” I mean “3 or 4”) to show people how annoying middle schoolers are. He has experienced first hand the annoyance and disruptiveness—along with body odor—that 7th graders emit. I for one will be the first to say that this 7th grade girl probably deserved to get the crap beaten out of her! Maybe it wasn’t necessarily her who annoyed the 14-year-olds to the point where they kicked her, but it was probably someone who looked exactly like her!

“There’s a lot of fights that people just tape now and then they’ll stick it on like, YouTube or Myspace,” one female student told FOX News. “It doesn’t happen really in school, it happens like a lot, like somewhere else, and they just tape it and put it on the Web site.” Unfortunately, we can not be sure this student is telling the truth, due to the morbid amounts of “like” used in her interview [pause for you to glance back up and check], the fact that she should have said “There are a lot of fights . . .” and the undeniable evidence that she is, in fact, a woman. Apparently, this girl is an expert at “fight video taping,” seeing as how she has admitted viewed many. This also furthers my point as to proving that Myspace ruins lives, being a major contributor to the displaying of many inappropriate fights.

When clinical psychologist Jeff Gardere was showed the tape of the girl getting brutally destroyed, he was downright enraged. “Can you imagine what it must be like for someone to actually see themselves being beaten in that way? To actually seeing those images?” he asked people, who obviously didn’t know the answer. “So you’re outside of your body watching this happen. I think it makes it doubly or triply worse.” He later added that, if shown the video twice, the person may begin to feel “Quadruply or fiveply times worse.”

There is really no way for me to tell what was going through these girl’s minds when they beat the living snot out of a 7th grade girl, but I’m going to guess it was something along the lines of:

I really dislike this woman

If given the opportunity, I would not cease to punch my 7th grade brother and a few of his friends in the face. I figure that the beating would teach them to respect their elders, which is what everyone should do.

But hey, this is coming from a kid who wouldn’t fight a punk named “Repo” and who watches Mad TV.

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Filed under Myspace, School

How To Prevent Those Old Guys

Undoubtedly due to the rising population of rape victims on Myspace, Arlington High School had started a seven week program in which, every Thursday, we are forced to discuss with our teachers the dangers of the internet. We all put our desks in a circle, hold hands, and share our feelings in a calm and humane way. “Screw that,” we will yell; “If any faggot rapist tries to touch me I’ll punch him in the face.” We will then share concerned hugs and some of us will cry.

But before we discuss the prevention of old men meeting you at the park and duct taping your mouth shut, let us reflect back on the history of Internet Danger

2850 B.C. – Ancient Mesopotamians (Slogan: “We don’t meso ROUND!!”) would come back from work to find that someone had somehow manages to elude their electronically controlled home security system, pick their steel house lock using a battery operated power drill with a 4/9 drill bit, and –unbelievably—push back the leather drape over their front door to get into their hut. After realizing that none of their fur skins and round rocks were stolen, they would be outraged to discover that a sex-craved online predator had carved on their dirt floor:

Do I Make You Horny?

5 B.C. – The Chinese (Slogan: “For the last time, we’re NOT Japanese!”) build the Great Wall of China in an unsuccessful attempt to eliminate sexual predators. Unfortunately, the despicable, sex-craved perverts (or as they call them in China: “Mongolians”) found ways to catapult large rocks over the wall. The rocks would crash into small Chinese villages, injuring dozens and harassing young teens when they read the message carved into it:

Do I Make You Horny?

30 A.D. – Son of God, Jesus Christ (Slogan: “I’ll Be Back”) is crucified on the cross, accused of being a sexual predator. Although he was shut down at only the age of 26, it is said that he signed back on 3 days later and still watches over us today.

1829– Andrew Jackson (Slogan: “I’m on the twenty, bitch!”) becomes the first sexual predator to be elected president.

1978– The internet is actually invented

July 2003– Myspace.com (Slogan: “Don’t worry, it’s completely safe”) is invented, not only allowing sexual predators to gain the edge on teenagers, but also making is too easy to rape someone. On the average Myspace account, there is a list of the person’s favorite food, smell, color, dog, chocolate, word, football team, sports event, parent, date, bear, restaurant, and rainforest tree frog. By simply scrolling down the list, .stalkers and predators become capable of virtually anything. Within one year, Myspace was able to raise the bar for sexual predators and basically endanger all of America. Also, Tom Anderson is deemed the most dangerous man in the world, and is reported to have raped over 140 billion young women.

September 29, 2006– Republican politician from Florida Mark Foley was forced to resign from the House in September, after reports emerged that he had sent sexually explicit messages to a teenage male. Apparently even Myspace couldn’t stop our top government officials from trying to touch the children. It is reported that Florida is trying to change their slogan to “Yeah, we voted a sexual predator into office, did you?” but there has been no news yet. The FBI is still searching to see if Foley did anything wrong, and they said the only real evidence they have is a message the politician sent that read:

Do I Make You Horny?

So how do we prevent all of these sexual predators from getting into our lives? Do we shut off out computer and burry it under the ground before building our house over it in order to insure it is never dug up ever again? Do we lock all our door and nail our windows shut and never leave the house except to celebrate for a short while when the Patriots win the Super Bowl? Do we constantly carry around a hot girl so that when the predator comes to attack you he chooses the hot chick over your fat sweaty body?

No. According to Arlington High School, there is only one way to prevent sexual predators. In a recent survey we were all forced to take, it is said that over 80% of students at AHS have once raped a small animal. I know that has nothing to do with online predators, but it is sadly true (I raped a squirrel). The survey also said that nearly half of the AHS population has given out personal information online. This includes names, ages, where you live, what school you go to, and your favorite type of tooth paste. I know everybody reading this right now is thinking “How the hell did he manage to rape a squirrel?!” And after that you should start saying “I know I’m not going to get raped online,” and that is not true. According to scientists, 6 out of every 4 people are sexually molested without even realizing it. Generally when you’re asleep, in school, or doing your laundry, sexual predators come up and insert their rod A into your slot B before you can even yell “Heinz Ketchup”!

Arlington High School is going the distance to teach their students about online dangers, and yours should too. I don’t care if it means you have to lay off 20% of your teaching staff. I don’t care if it means you have to eat dry wall for school lunches, and I don’t care if it means you get an abortion based upon your biblical views! Your school must answer the burning question that is in students’ minds:

Do I Make You Horny?

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Filed under Myspace, School

Myspace vs. Facebook The Saga Continues

I have good news, and I have bad news. The good news is that I just saved a bunch of money on my car insurance by switching to Gieco; and that bad news is that I have genital warts. No, but seriously, the good news is that– although people still use it– the amount of news about Myspace.com has decreased drastically. There have been no recent reportings of girls gone missing, or kids getting killed, and no arguments about “not being on Katie’s top 8.” The only recent problem with Myspace is that police continuously report that a white/black man with a high pitched voice and gloves keeps inviting kids to play in the amusement park in his backyard, but I think we all know who that is.

The bad news is that one of my friends has joined the dark side. It was me and her, fighting Myspace together; little did I know that she was living a double life, and that after our deep discussions about how Myspace sucks, she would actually sign onto her own Myspace account! I have already made it known in a past blog that I despise Myspace more than a fat person hates Jenny Craig, but I don’t believe I shared with you people the actual activities that people enjoy on Myspace. You can:

• Log in
• Check your comments
• Log out
• Log in seconds later
• Check your comments
• Log out
• Shoot heroin

My friend claims that the reason she joined Myspace was because her friend made her one, so she decided to try it. Sadly, this is the same response most drug addicts use when they are asked why they first started smoking crack. Let this be a lesson to all you youngins that having friends is wrong, and that if you ever have any friends ever, they will ruin your life.

Fun Fact: More that 65% of all Myspaces were made by a friend

Another Fun Fact: Most that 65% of all American deaths are due to the above fact.

Q: But seriously, what is there to do on Myspace?
A: That’s simple! The average person enjoys hours of looking at people’s pictures, commenting on them, and then nagging their friends about why they didn’t comment back. And for an extra thrill, they bitch about why they’re not on people’s Top 8.

Q: What’s a “Top 8”?
A: A banner of 8 of your friend’s Myspaces designed to ruin relationships

Why am I only number 3 on your top 8?
Because you’re a bitch!

Q: Are there any games or activities on Myspace? What do people do for fun?
A: Are you kidding me?! What’s more fun that finding out that one of your friend’s friend’s friend’s friend’s friend’s friends named Brendan Shires’ favorite ice cream is vanilla, and that he was wearing black jeans and sandals while working on his Myspace profile!!!

Q: So there’s nothing fun about it?
A: Exactly

Q: Well then why does everyone come to Myspace, aren’t there more than like, 150 million users?
A: Myspace– like the Backstreet Boys CD– emits waves of nicotine into the system of the user, forcing him/her to become deathly addicted. When cut off from their supply, most Myspace addicts resort to cannibalism and DDR.

Q: Why don’t people do something about it?
A: Oh they have made many rules and restrictions on the site. For example, Myspace has sided with the cigarette company and is beginning to put labels on their site informing users what will happen if they use Myspace. This is also a perfect transition into my connecting sentence that will help lead into my segue for the next topic. But before I do, I would like to share another true quote from my friend on what she thought of Myspace:

It got really bad because when people stopped nagging me about getting a Myspace, they started nagging me on “why the hell don’t you ever comment on m y pictures?” or “why am I not on your top 8?”

I hope you non-Myspace users remember those words before you allow your friends to make you one. And for all you who are sick of comments, sick of pedophiles, and sick of that annoying music that plays the second you open up the webpage so loud that (God forbid) you open more than one Myspace at a time your computer sounds like an orchestra warming up; then there’s something different for you!

Facebook.com! Now you can enjoy all the luxuries of communicating with your friends and gossiping about pointless information without the hassle of leaving your room! Plus, stockers and pedophiles can now see more pictures of you partying, as well as pictures of your friends partying! It’s all the fun of Myspace without the hassle of music!

Sadly, all the users of Facebook do not know this, which is why if you ask them– which I have– why Facebook is better, they will simply respond (in a snobby, malevolent tone of voice, as if Facebook is the best thing ever invented and anyone who doesn’t use it deserves to be turned into road kill and be forced to consume scabs their entire life)-

Because it’s not Myspace . . . duh!

Unfortunately, I am not as educated in the Facebook subject as I am in the Myspace subject, and this is simply because there really aren’t any huge newspaper articles regarding the bad characteristics on this website (at least nothing that hasn’t been said about Myspace). Although, I do remember seeing on headline that read:

IT’S NOT MYSPACE
Duh

The only real problem that occurred with Facebook was then some underaged kids posted pictures of themselves drinking alcohol in their picture album and authorities found it. When asked about the situation, one of the kids said

I’m just glad they didn’t look at my other friend’s album

Q: So what is there to do on Facebook?
A: The possibilities are endless! You can look at your friend’s pictures, look at your friend’s friend’s pictures, you can comment on your friends pictures, and—if you’re feeling lucky enough—comment on your friend’s friend’s pictures.

Q: Isn’t that the same thing as Myspace?
A: NO! DIDN’T YOU READ THE FACEBOOK SLOGAN?! WE’RE NOT MYSPACE! DUH!
Also, on Facebook you constantly get reminders about whose birthday it is. This enables you to give them a comment like “happy birthday” without having to bother wasting space in your brain. The empty space that once would have been designated to remembering birthdays can be put towards more important memory information, like, for example, how many of your grandparents are still alive.

Q: What if I don’t have a Facebook? Who will remember my birthday?
A: Your parents. If you’re lucky

Back in the day, stocking someone would actually mean something. You would be forced to put aside all your other responsibilities and dedications, and spent countless hours staking out, researching, and fishing though that person’s garbage to find out what type of shampoo they used. You would be forced to befriend her bitch-ass friends in order to get vital information, and even have to pick out the glass from your leg after accidentally smashing your foot through her window when you had to get out of her room fast because she came back from soccer camp early (which is why I not walk with a limp). Nowadays, with new technology like Myspace and Facebook, stocking a girl is made thousands of times easier! Simply type in the girl’s name, and you are given a list of things she likes, things she dislikes, what her favorite types of food, candy, restaurants, desserts, pets, and virus activated illnesses are. Whether you like this or you don’t, Myspace is truly ruining the youth of America.

As my good friend Johnny Cash once put it:

If a dog were to shit out a URL, eat it and throw it back up, you would get Myspace.com

Well said Johnny Cash, well said.

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Filed under Comedy, Myspace