Barack Obama will loose Utah this November…guaranteed!

I happened upon this old blog of mine the other day. I was struck, as often happens when one revisits ones work, by the utter inanity of it. Retarded was the resonating word. Admittedly, I did have a little chuckle over that Creed diatribe-no apologies there. And my encounters with dear Rich were worth remembering. Other than that, this blog has been an unfulfilling endeavor, easily discarded among the virtual wasteland of detritus that wastes a good chunk of space in the network of tubes and midgets that comprises the Web. The one faithful reader I had evidently died of necrotizing fasciitis. Poor guy. Of course, he would have laughed at anything in any attempt to mitigate the pain. (To his credit, though, it is amazing how funny he made the fasciitis out to be! I remember, right before he went completely blind and lost his penis, he had dressed himself up like the leper from Braveheart and started reciting lines from old obscure French films. I think it was supposed to be funny. Anyway, I laughed.) So, after he died in what sounded to be a horrible, gruesome death, I felt less compelled to participate in the masturbatory endeavor that is the weblog. Seemed less important, somehow.

 

Still, without the time sink that is blogging, I needed a new form of pissing away my life. I considered a brief stint as a nude model, but the money was too good and I worried about, as they say, ‘keeping it real.’ Plus, the only people willing to hire me were old bridge clubs. So I passed on that one. Next I considered making a difference. I thought that making a difference would be an effective employ of ones time and resources. The difficulty, it turns out, in making a difference, is that in order to make a real difference one should have some idea about what to make different. I have never liked the street light that governs my walk in the morning. I’d like that to be different, I thought. But, as is the case with people with no desire or motivation, I had no idea where or how to begin. Plus, I didn’t really care all that much; evidently one should not suppose one has the ability to truly make if difference if one finds himself utterly indifferent to that which he would make different. So, the street light remains.

 

But, nevertheless, I appreciated the idea of making a difference. At this point in the narrative it becomes necessary to indicate that it was now late January. Soon, Utah was going to be participating in Super Tuesday! Elections-of course! If I was truly going to make a difference in life, then whyn’t here? Well, whyn’t? So one fine Saturday afternoon I went down to the good Senator Obama’s Salt Lake headquarters. Proud of finally, as they say, ‘doing something,’ I pulled into the parking lot, went inside, and immediately returned back to my car. Turns out, I wasn’t anticipating hating everyone inside Obama headquarters, but I immediately did! Why in the hell does every democrat in Utah have to be freakishly abnormal? So many bastards volunteering their time, trying to be all hippy and free-love and all about change and making change and doing things differently. What the hell’s up with that? Why can’t people make a difference without being so enthusiastic about it? Whatever happened to good old fashioned people who keep to themselves while changing the future of America? Douchebags everywhere, all wanting change. Of course they want change! They’re douchebags! Ask any douchebag, “what is the one thing that sucks about being a douchebag,” and they will invariably tell you, “being a douchebag. Sure wish I could change that.” Now, you might argue, if I was so concerned about making a difference, why wasn’t I willing to stick around and help the douchebags with their douchebagginess? Seemed like a lot of work. However, I can and will unequivocally state: Barack Obama will loose Utah this November. I’ve seen his most ardent supporters.

 

So, gave up on change. Went back into hiding. Closed myself off to the world. When I finally remembered that at one point in my life, I did a half-assed job of maintaining a blog, I reluctantly went back. After Larry’s horrifically disgusting death, it wasn’t as easy as I thought it’d be. Nothing to do with Larry and the thought of him loosing an ear in a windstorm, just my own laziness. Plus, with Larry dead, and all the other occasional readers of this crap long gone, it seemed irrelevant. But that is when I realized that I can do irrelevance! I am irrelevance, baby! Irrelevance is what I got and irrelevance is what I have to say! So here it is: total irrelevance.

 

Enjoy your day. (And I am already well aware the above post did little to offset my initial claims regarding the inanity of this blog.)

 

From WebMD: When necrotizing fasciitis occurs in the area of the genitals, it is called Fournier gangrene.