technobang

Ooooh, a twist!

Last year I made some convoluted update whining about how the universe sucks and as a result, I should never have gone on vacation. To make a long story short: it sucked. It was vile, and I mean vile. It basically started off with this line:

“There, you finally did it karma. You balanced the universe back out so I’m a bitter, angry fat fucking nobody. Congrats.”

Here I am approaching a year later, and you know what I’ve found? That statement is actually accurate. I am a bitter, angry, fat fucking nobody working a dead end job and becoming fatter. By all rights I should be pissed at myself, God, the universe and shrinky dinks—yet I’m not. What the fuck, why not?

I guess I have hope.

I got stuck on this line right here. This typically happens when I write about subjects far too close to home. I freeze and try to figure out how in the hell I can explain anything without revealing too much or looking like a blogging faggot.

Anyway, I have hope. I guess being chained up for 6 months gave me a lot of time in my head, and when I finally came back out I realized I wasn’t the same person. Still a bitter fat guy, but yet… where’d my cynicism go? My belief that humanity is on its last legs, that as a society we’ve misprioritized and failed miserably? The fuck?

EDIT: The cynicism was right where you left it, fatass. It went in hibernation because you were free! I’m sure the blacks felt a similar feeling after they were let go from slavery, and look where it lead them? Wait, President of the United States… never mind… bad example. Sorry racism, I know you wanted in.

Whatever, that’s something I’ll sort out. Who knows? Maybe I’ll pull my head out of the clouds and go back to my normal bitter brooding ways.

I should also take a moment and apologize to people who have been trying to contact me since my halfassed return to the land of the free. I’m not ignoring you, I swear, I’m just on a mission.

A few odd notes over the course of my journey:

I miss cooking, and I’m actually going to attempt complex recipes now. Neat.

I have come to love the show Doctor Who—thanks a lot, England. I fucking hate you.

After reading through the old updates, which as we all know are rather erratic and almost bipolar, my favorites are the ones I wrote with my eyes shut. There was a girl in my head; call her a muse. She’s still there.

I’m going on vacation soon. Watch out for me, I might appear in your town. This warning is void in towns I’ve been before, so watch out Houston!

Okay that last sentence was a lie, I’m too poor. The thought counts though, right?

Right?

SHUT

YOUR FUCKING

MOUTH.

Now I will be the first to profess ignorance here. I know nothing of the series, of the books, of the characters, or of the genre. I know nothing of vampires. As far as I know, vampires should still look like Eddie Munster—yeah, that’s the best example I could come up with. So, frankly, if I mess up a few details of your precious storybook, allow me to invite you to perk your lips nice and tight and give my left asscheek a good kiss. While you’re there, give the rectum a good tongue-washing while you’re at it, because as far as I’m concerned that’s about all you’re good for if you’re going to argue with me here.

For days and weeks I’ve heard about this upcoming movie based on some cunt who wrote a series of books in the first person. I HATE ALL BOOKS WRITTEN IN THE FIRST PERSON. One person’s perspective usually bores me, and I back this up because I actually tried reading the first page of Twilight and was immediately repulsed by the constant use of the word and or letter “I”. I do not care how great the rest of the book is, I am a person who solely judges books based on their cover. Yes, I shit on the morality lesson that says you shouldn’t do that.

Someone explain to me why beings that are supposedly hundreds upon thousands of years old happen to look like pre-teens that washed out of auditions for The OC? I don’t get it. A 17 year old vampire? How conveniently marketed toward our target audience! “Now all our screaming 15 year old fangirls can imagine having their cunt plowed by a teenage dreamboat, but still maintain the illusion that he’s ancient! Hooray!”

Seriously, I don’t get it.

So from what I’ve gathered from the previews, it’s supposed to be some kind of love story between a strangely thin and strongly homosexual kid and his pasty black-haired female acquaintance that looks like Christina Ricci’s coke-addicted cousin. And since I’m assuming that vampires are supposed to be, you know, eating humans in some fashion that this breaks some sort of horrible vampire code. So now fucko vampire, feeling the urge of teenage hormones (which is funny because I’m pretty sure he’s supposed to be ANCIENT) has to go off and fight all the other vampires who think he’s a complete dumbshit. At least I hope that’s the premise, because if the other vampires just met up and said “look at this emo faggot and his dumb girlfriend, are you SEEING this stupid shit?” I would go and watch it just for the comedic value.

To be fair, I’m sure there are those of you who genuinely see some kind of value in this kind of overplayed bullshit lovestory between vampires and humans, and if it really is something beyond basic fangirlism and having the desire to have your cunt punctured by someone with a bad haircut and long teeth then good for you, I salute you. Otherwise please, PLEASE stupid fangirls, stop flapping your fat lips already.

Good evening.

Actually probably more than 5 months because the last update I did? Terrible.

I’ve concluded that my own writing stinks. I have this terrible tendency to write long unending paragraphs only to delete them and then replace them with a short sentence. I’m doing much the same right now, however these sentences are actually long and uninteresting.

I’m sitting at a customer’s house removing the mess made when a customer attempts to install Norton AntiVirus on their own. I have been doing this for nearly two years. I look back on my life and wonder just how I thought this job would be a great opportunity. I think perhaps I’ve turned even more cynical than I was in the past. Two years and I’m actually making less money than I ever did. Fantastic.

Jesus, fucking depressing enough? Shut up, fatso.

I have resorted to posting little bulletins on Myspace when my website is updated, mostly because I’ve allowed my rabid-duck.com domain to slip into the netherworld. After 5 years I have no intention of letting it return, and there is a high probability I’ll wind up starting some other blog somewhere else to promote my useless brand of wit.

By wit I mean weight. Ho ho ho. I’m funny.

I’ve been paying some measure of attention to the DOW falling almost 500 points today. After some useless drivel by news reporters, President Bush commented on the situation by prattling on about how he missed Texas but wouldn’t be able to stay because he has work to do. Well I’m glad the fucking voice of confidence spoke up, next time I’m in Texas I’ll make sure to take a shit on the roadside in honor of our President for leaving his home in this time of crisis.

Wait, back up. The President is whining that he can’t stay at home? What is he, 12? “MOMMY I DON’T WANT TO GO FIX THE ECONOMY MOMMY NOOOO.” Yech. You’re the leader of the free world, you couldn’t say something inspirational to perhaps calm the nerves of the millions of people fearing a global economic collapse? Oh, no, I guess missing Texas is also a valid point. Good job. I feel better already.

I want to start a newspaper column called “Stupid.” Guess what it features?

I’m done and I’m going back into hiding.

There’s a bit of a revolution going on inside of my apartment that I feel the need to squash here and now.

Here at rabid-duck we believe that the duck and all forms of Anatidae bird are in fact the highest form of life on this planet. Perched high on the Mountain of Quackitude, the emperor of all ducks sneers down upon all that is beneath him—including the dreaded menace to all things good and true: the llama.

A little backhistory on the llama:

Llamas were first introduced during World War II. During the planning phases of the Pearl Harbor bombings, the Japanese realized that by using mild amounts of German superscience, inexpensive and ruthless foot soldiers could be genetically engineered to land on the harbor and combat the American soldiers hand to hand. However during a long, sweaty, drunken gropefest between the lead researcher and several Japanese hookers (and something he lovingly called “Captain Tentacles”) large quantities of goat semen contaminated the incubation chamber. Thus, the llama was born. With the sex drive of a Japanese scientist and the rage of a thousand goats, these horrible and bloodthirsty creatures burst from their chambers, ready to strike.

The llamas made their way to a small village in New Guinea where, after slaughtering all the men and raping all the women, they formed a small llama community. After living in relative peace for roughly a decade, they turned their rage on the outside world. Using their natural ability to command many forms of sea life, the llamas used sperm whales to capture a handful of Russian nuclear submarines carrying atomic bombs which, incidentally, were bound for the United States.

Little is now known of the llama menace. Their genetic and societal impurities have led several of their offspring to flee their small village, reproducing in several areas of the United States and Mexico and posing as domesticated, slack-jawed fools. However, as spokesperson for the emperor of all ducks, I can safely say that as the offspring of a Japanese researcher, several hookers, and goat semen, ducks are clearly the superior beings.

So let us turn to the matter at hand. The spokesperson to the llama governor seems to believe that, even though they lack opposable thumbs, llamas will conquer the world. The duck army has mobilized to counteract this laughable threat, and soon the llama hierarchy will stand in ruins.

Frankly I can’t wait to see the duck emperor drink a beer while dozens of llama lie dead at his feet. It will be a glorious sight to behold.

I was going to write an update about driving and it fizzled out of my head almost instantly. I’ll sum it up in a few quick sentences:

Women cannot drive. Ever. Apparently having a vagina removes any ability coexist with something that goes faster than 20 miles per hour.

Chicago drivers are way too angry when behind the wheel. I’m always curious to see what important event you two-bit cunts have to get to in such a hurry. What, you don’t mind if I take 2 seconds to hit the gas after—okay, I’ve lost all desire to write about driving. It tends to happen when she looks at me; I’ll be pissy about something, even if it’s faux anger, and it’ll just fade almost immediately. It might cause the end of this website, honestly, because even though I do occasionally have little spurts of my faux anger, I really can’t pull off one of my fantastically angry updates anymore.

Being angry requires a certain mindset that I really don’t possess anymore. It’s like trying to beat up a baby seal—fundamentally they piss me off, however they look just so damned CUTE!

I would however trip a baby seal down a flight of stairs, should the opportunity arise.

Previously I’ve not updated my website because I haven’t had the drive. I would look at this place with disdain and call it names and probably racial epithets (which frankly make no sense: this website is -clearly- white.)

I’m sitting here trying to figure out how to organize the jumble of thoughts in my head. It’s a struggle nowadays, because my thoughts tend to turn more into feelings and images rather than my usual cold and logical words.

I no longer lay around and contemplate the universe. I’ve found my seating in the universe I once struggled to understand.

I no longer dwell on everything that’s gone wrong in life. To be fair, I didn’t really before, however these days the thoughts never cross my mind.

I had spent years emulating emotions that I should’ve felt; no longer. I feel complete. I feel.

I don’t know how to end this so I’ll just kind of float away on this cloud I’ve been riding.

EDIT: Really fatass? REALLY? You feel, seriously? I can’t believe I wrote this. I look at this and want to find this scumbag and just take a huge steamer on his chest because this is the most god-awful contrite crap I’ve read, and I WAS THE ONE WHO WROTE IT. Expect more editorials on my own idiocy, and I’ll leave it all up for all to see. I have no problem looking like an idiot.

EDIT 2: Writing updates for, to, about, or because of women is the absolute worst thing I ever could have done. I try to be this sappy romantic dipass when in reality I’m just not there, so when the relationship fizzles (and future ladies, it will fizzle, they all fizzle, unless it doesn’t then I’m wrong) I look back on it and feel really stupid. Point and case, future ladies: I’m never writing about you on this website, ever. Take your feelings and shove it. Don’t cry about it either, I’ll get annoyed.

I want to say the past few months of silence are as a result of writer’s block, but I’m not a writer.

I also want to say the past few months of silence are as a result of being busy, but I’m no more busy than I have been.

I think it’s been a complete lack of inspiration. Few things that annoy me lately have been worth writing about. There’s generic things; traffic in Chicago reminds me of my bowels after eating old pizza—obstructed and moves and spurts. See how uninspired that was? I just made a shit joke.

I’ve been setting up a lot of Macs lately, and the conclusion I’ve come to is that new Mac owners are akin to children lost on a public trail. Sure, the path is extremely easy to follow, but kids are so fucking doped up on corn syrup and iTunes that they’re distracted by the most inane shit.

Calendars annoy the shit out of me. More to the point, people being hopelessly dependent on their calendar is annoying. Are you telling me that you people are fucking incapable of remember basic day-to-day tasks? That having your calendar go missing for a few hours while I set your computer up could, quite possibly, end the world for you? You’re not that important, fuck off—it’s just soccer practice.

Kids are fucking spoiled and babied. I think I was part of the last generation where it was okay to smack your kid around when he acted up. Hell, I’m sure I had it spoiled too, but it’s a slippery slope down to the bottom. It’s grotesque. I was listening to this girl gush on about her graduation the other day, and I’m thinking to myself “well gee, she’s awfully young to be graduating highschool.” It was a stupid thought in itself, but the truth became clear pretty quickly: it was a middle school graduation.

Beg pardon?

Since when was it necessary to give these stupid kids entitlement and a false sense of responsibility by giving them huge graduation ceremonies when moving up to highschool? “Congratulations, welcome to highschool! Hope you don’t get knocked up!” That’s fucking stupid! How mentally undeveloped are kids today where they have to be patted on the back and given a gold sticker at 13 years old? I’m surprised the Asians haven’t sauntered over and shit on your faces for being so goddamn far behind.

With that kind of behavior, I’m really not shocked at the sudden springing up of emo culture. I used to agree with Opie and Anthony in this situation. They said that we now live in a homo culture, but that’s not entirely accurate. The emasculation of the male species isn’t a result of a feminine touch. Oh no, it’s occurring because kids aren’t being kicked around anymore and males grow up to be soft, whiny little faggots. “But they’re in touch with their emotions!!!!!” – Okay? I’ve been listening to my female friends whine about their respective (ex)boyfriends… how they whine and cry about everything in life, and how they shovel piles of shit onto the women because they’re demanding sympathy and attention.

You know what I have to say to that? Fuck you. You’re ruining my goddamn gender.

Don’t get me wrong, I grew up a little whiny faggot. That’s part of the culture. The difference is, instead of continuing to be a whiny faggot into adulthood, I managed to, uh, emotionally mature. So no, I don’t whine and cry when things go wrong. I don’t shut myself in an emotional closet and cry myself to sleep. I don’t guilt trip the entire world into feeling bad for me. Why the fuck would I?

I HAVE TESTICLES. ATTENTION: MY TESTICLES STILL FUNCTION. THEY’RE STRANGE LOOKING AND MISSHAPEN BUT I STILL RULE YOU.

Shape up, faggot men. Women will hate you less if you hop to it.

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I’ve invented this word, and I want it on google.

Bowelfuck.

Make it happen.

23:42 < crispy> So wait what're we storing on the server nowadays?
23:42 < Dan> child porn


00:40 < Cenobyte> quicktime has issues
00:40 < Dan> your mom has issues
00:40 < Cenobyte> yeah but she doesn't crash when I try to update her

Indeed.