The School of Life Isn’t Accredited – Learn Something

If there is a phrase that I hate more than the phrase “street smart” it’s “the school of life.”

A lot of people who never bothered with college use it to make themselves feel better for not going to college. Like “I didn’t need to go to college. I have life experiences.”

Yeah, you know who doesn’t agree with that? Capitalism.

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News flash, everyone has life experience. Everyone has attended the school of life. Hell, even people in comas are in the school of life. They’re like the equivalent of those kids who slept through class in high school but passed anyway.

And people who fall back on the school of life as their only education are yet another group of people who want credit for doing absolutely fucking nothing. It’s like when guys get pissed because girls don’t like them, even though they’re nice.

“Yeah, I’m an overweight dude with no job and questionable personal hygiene, but I’m nice! Why don’t supermodels like me?”

For the same reason no one wants to pay you $100,000 a year to stock shelves. You don’t get extra credit when you do the bare minimum. The fact that you don’t punch a girl in the face on the first date is not something to be proud of.

It’s expected behavior.

Same with the school of life. The only requirement to passing in the school of life is not dying. Well, hell, I’ve been doing that for 35 years now….and I also managed to get a college education from a real, accredited university. Imagine that.  I’m like a double major.

And don’t bother with messages about how Einstein was a high school dropout and Bill Gates flunked out of college. For every one Bill Gates, there’s about 10,000 janitors with GEDs. The exception proves the rule. Extraordinary people don’t go to college because they don’t need it. The fact is, many people tend to think they’re extraordinary when they’re utterly ordinary.

Here’s the test to tell if you’re extraordinary. It’s one question –

In your free time you…

  1. Watch TV, play video games and update your educational status to “School of Life” while expecting people to pat you on the back for doing everyday things like parenting, not breaking the law, and going to work.
  2. Spend time in the garage that you’ve converted into a small-scale nuclear reactor in order to continue studying the potential of cold fusion

Here’s a hint. Chances are if you’re the kind of person who answers “number 2”, you’re not on this page.

You don’t get credit for being alive, so no, the school of life is not a thing. If the fact that you haven’t died yet is your biggest accomplishment, you seriously need to reevaluate your life, rather than brag about that.

Not being dead isn’t an accomplishment. It’s a status update.

You want credit, get a real education. Do something with your life. But stop saying you graduated from the school of life. From personal experience, I’ve found the people who attend that university are only experts at failing.

Explaining Libertarianism To People Who Think I’m An Anarchist

 

I’m not, by the way. An anarchist, that is. But I am a libertarian. That one usually gets me a few odd looks. People assume I’m some kind of conspiracy nut who claims the moon landing was faked and the government is watching my every move. They assume I’m in a militia, or inches away from joining one and that I don’t believe in paying taxes period.

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A lot of people believe I’m anti-American. Just an FYI, I spent four years as an enlisted soldier in the armed services…doing paperwork for people who can run much faster, and shoot far better than I.

Hey, I never claimed to be athletic.

Being a libertarian does not mean I’m anti-government. It does not mean that I’m anti-taxation or believe that my apartment should be declared a sovereign nation. It just means this.

I want the government to intrude into my life as little as possible.

I believe that a very small government should be in place to provide essential government services. I’ll happily hand over my tax money, provided it’s spent for a good reason, that reason being it benefits society as a whole and not just one person. Such services include public roadways, law enforcement and making sure my food contains less than 0.0001% random dead rat parts per million.  Were our government to just spend our tax money on these items, I believe that the people in these departments would have all the funding they need.

Here are the things I don’t believe in. Private corporate lobbyists, the electoral college, welfare, and private corporate welfare. I believe that you should be responsible for yourself. It’s a harsh stance, but a pure one. I don’t believe one individual should be held responsible for the health and well-being of another individual they didn’t give birth to. I don’t believe I should be forced to spend money to subsidize parties at political conventions. I don’t believe I should be required to pay for hair care services for the US senate or for Mrs. Obama’s image consultant.

In short, you want luxury, pay for it on your own dime.

That luxury includes having kids. Yes, I get that you’re working at the quick stop, have eight kids and can’t afford to put food on the table…but at no time at all did I sneak into your apartment with a turkey baster and artificially inseminate you. You made your life choices and you should be responsible for taking care of them. It is not ok to put your life choices on my shoulders.

Yeah, I got knocked up unexpectedly too, so I did the smart thing and went to college while working full time so I could do what I wanted with my life without having to answer to anyone.  That allowed me entrance into the middle class, where I’m able to support my family on my own, again, without answering to anyone. And no, I don’t believe a parade should be held for me. The pedestal the single mother is put on annoys me in the same way that I get irritated when the crowd cheers on Maury after a dude who just learned “he is the daddy” announces he’s going to take care of his kids.

Why the fuck does he get applause for that? It’s what you’re supposed to do.

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The next thing I believe in is free market. I believe as long as the item cannot commit mass genocide with the pressing of a button, it should be available for sale with no government intervention. So do I believe you should be able to buy a nuclear warhead on eBay? No.

But I do believe you should be able to buy a kilo of coke and all the hookers you want to snort it off with minimal government intervention? You’re god damn right I do.

I know my belief in the free drug trade might sound extreme, but to that I say this. I really cannot comprehend the ridiculousness of a society where heroin is illegal, but several direct derivatives of heroin are available with a prescription. How does that happen?

Lobbyists. Turns out drugs are only bad when Pfizer doesn’t hold the patent.

As a libertarian, I believe in one thing. Personal responsibility. As long as I’m not hurting anyone, I should be able to do what I want. I take care of the kids I chose to have, and pay the taxes I need to pay to provide valuable services to society as a whole.

And Mitt Romney needs to go to Supercuts to get his hair did just like the rest of us.

Giving Thanks – A Lesson in Gratitude

I don’t know if you could all tell this from my posts, but I’m a very negative person. I’m not negative in that annoying ‘oh, my life is so bad’ kind of way. Instead, I find myself often being negative simply for the purpose of being amusing. If there is one life lesson I can pass on, it’s this;

If you’re going to bitch, at least make it funny.

As a massive cynic, I find myself complaining about just about everything. I have no right to. My life is good. I get paid to do what I love, have a lot of friends that tolerate me no matter how many times I drunk and text them, and a supportive family of enablers who will happily allow me to drink and smoke myself to death. I have a kick ass Wi-Fi connection, an unlimited weed supply, and access to a completely free, completely streaming porn site.

So why the hell do I complain so much? It’s time to start being grateful for things. That is why I give you, in no particular order, the things I am grateful for everyday.

#1 Minivans

I have a theory about minivans. I think if you get the lowest possible score on the driving test at the DMV (while still passing) they automatically assign you a minivan. This is so the rest of the world will know what a terrible fucking driver you are.

Whenever I see some asshole doing 35 in the fast lane, with their left blinker on the whole fucking time, they are in a minivan. Something about these vehicles was designed to say to the public at large “pass as quickly as possible, in the breakdown lane if you have to. The driver of this stupid looking vehicle is guaranteed to hit something in the next five minutes.”

So thank you minivan manufacturers, for telling us which drivers truly are idiots before we find out the hard way.

#2  The phrase ‘no offense intended.”

I love this phrase, because it lets you say whatever you want! Then, if the person gets offended, they’re the one who’s the asshole. Here’s an example;

Girlfriend: My mother invited us to brunch this weekend.

Boyfriend: I don’t want to go.

Girlfriend: Why?

Boyfriend: No offense intended, but your mother is a fat whore.

See how easy that is? I don’t know who invented the phrase ‘no offense intended’, but I’m grateful. I’m also sure whoever it was, they were a massive asshole… no offense intended.

#3 Foreign content writers

As a freelance writer, I often find myself competing for jobs with people who bid $10.00 for ten 500 word articles. People who need writers will contract with these guys to save money. The funny thing is, these people never consider the fact that to make a living, someone would have to churn out like 50 of these a day. They always make excuses, like “oh, the cost of living is lower in (insert country client usually knows nothing about). That’s why they can charge so little.”

That’s not why. The reason they can charge so little is because they can write an article in about 25 seconds. Let me show you how.

Step 1 – Google the topic. For today’s purposes, my topic is ‘ass warts’

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Step 2 – Pick the first article that comes up and copy it, word for word.

Anal warts (also called “condyloma acuminata”) are a condition that affects the area around and inside the anus. They may also affect the skin of the genital area. They first appear as tiny spots or growths, perhaps as small as the head of a pin, and may grow quite large and cover the entire anal area. Usually, they do not cause pain or discomfort to afflicted individuals and patients may be unaware that the warts are present. Some patients will experience symptoms, such as itching, bleeding, mucus discharge and/or a feeling of a lump or mass in the anal area.

Step 3 – Slap it in a spinner with no regards to the end product at all.

Butt-centric warts (likewise called “condyloma acuminata”) are a condition that influences the zone around and inside the rear-end. They might likewise influence the skin of the genital range. They first show up as modest spots or developments, maybe as little as the leader of a pin, and may develop huge and spread the whole butt-centric territory. Typically, they don’t result in agony or uneasiness to tormented people and patients may be unconscious that the warts are available. A few patients will encounter side effects, for example, tingling, dying, bodily fluid release and/or an inclination of a knot or mass in the butt-centric territory.

Step 4 – Deliver article and ignore all angry emails from the client. After all, what are they going to do? Sue you for $10?

Now, was that butt-centric or what?

So why am I grateful for these dudes? They’re making me rich! After the client gets all these terrible articles, they need to pay someone to fix the damage. This is where I come in and charge a butt-load (or anal-cargo, for you spinners) more to fix it.

There we go. A few of the things I’m grateful for every day. For all you minivan driving foreign content writers out there, no offense intended, but your idiocy is actually making my life better.

Easy, Breezy…How About a Dose of Reality?

Today, something that most people call inspiring kind of set me off. Specifically, it’s the new Cover Girl, “Girls Can” campaign.

There are so many things I hate. I hate peas and cold weather. I hate fan fiction. I hate Kirk Cameron, the Taliban and people who clap when the plane lands.

But above all, I hate being patronized.

In case you haven’t seen this ‘inspiring’ new gem, it features a group of female celebrities, who normally, I don’t hate. These ladies spend the entire commercial talking about how hard it is to reach the top as a woman in music, business, and a whole host of other industries that are apparently allergic to vaginas.

This is all done for a campaign for a make-up company.

Now look, I’m not one of those chicks who hates make-up. I rarely wear it, because I can’t find a color scheme that matches my sweatpants, but I don’t hate it.

What I hate is that an industry that is completely dependent on making women feel like they’re not good enough unless they’re pretty has the balls to jump on the “girl power” train. What I hate is that a company that claims to be so women focused has a board of directors that’s 60% male.

I hate being patronized and I had the phrase ‘girl power’ or anything to do with ‘empowering woman’ because I find it entirely patronizing.

Nothing makes me want to smack a chick in the chops more than the phrase “girl power.” It’s usually spewed out after a bunch of shots of Jose Cuervo, after said girl just got dumped and has decided to “give up on men” and “just focus on me for awhile”.

Even though I give an agreeable smile and down my own shot, I get annoyed. Why?

Ladies, ask yourself this? Has a man ever done this? Has any dude you’ve even known shouted out ‘boy power” as he downs a shot and said that he didn’t care about picking up, he just wants to focus on himself? No?

Hold on while I recover from my shock.

Ladies, straight up; it’s patronizing. While you’re shrieking out ‘girl power’ you’re making it clear that you had no power of your own to begin with. When you say, “I’m just gonna focus on me,” you’re indicating that you weren’t before. And I know, two months from now, no matter how much ‘focusing on you’ you’re trying to do, you’ll have some unemployed douche bag living on your couch because you’re afraid of dying alone.

Because you’re not powerful. You’re just using a phrase that rich white dudes came up with to sell lipstick.

People who are actually powerful never have to tell others that they’re powerful. It’s obvious from their actions. When woman who are powerful say “I succeeded despite the fact that I’m a woman,” they’re not taking a stand for feminism. They’re simply making it sound like there’s something wrong with being a woman.

And when they start saying dumb shit like ‘girl power’ and ‘girls can!’ it sounds a lot to me like of case of protesting too much. It’s patronizing.

The fact is, some girls can’t. Just like boys, some girls are stupid and lack talent and would have never made it to begin with. It’s not because they’re girls. It’s just because they suck.

And yelling ‘girl power’ and ‘girls can’ all night isn’t going to change that, no matter how many celebrities you stick in your ads.

Get to the Point Already!!!

I spend way to much time psychoanalyzing men I don’t know.

In order to get where I’m going, you need to understand a little bit about who I am in relation to my friends. If my life was a romantic comedy, I would be the wacky, moderately slutty, best friend. The one who never has a boyfriend and it always there for long, in depth conversations about the leading man with the leading leady.

Being the wacky best friend has benefits and drawbacks. As the wacky best friend, I rarely have problems of my own. Benefit.

Because I have very few problems, I often have to take on the roll of sympathetic ear listen to other peoples problems. Generally, it’s not a complete drawback. I do enjoy a good story. The keyword being ‘good’.

Unfortunately, many of my female friends think I need to know every single detail before they finally tell me what the root issue is. The whole time their talking, all I really want to do is scream “get to the point already!!!”

I am the exact opposite of this type of story teller.

One of my friends, Kay, says I tell stories like a man. In one sentence. I never give details. Instead, I hit the high points. Here’s a transcript of one of our deep conversations;

Kay: So you’re not talking to Jessica anymore?

Essa: Nope.

Kay: Why not?

Essa: Because she’s a cunt

Kay: Really? Why’s that?

Essa: My guess would be genetics.

As far as I’m concerned, I’ve given a decent run down. Essa is no longer talking to Jessica because Jessica is a cunt, most likely because her mom is a cunt. But Kay doesn’t see it that way, Kay wants details.

It’s not that I don’t want to give details. It’s that I tell my story in inverted paragraph format, like journalists use.

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That way, if Kay and I get into a car accident and die while we’re talking, at least she’ll die knowing that I think Jessica is a cunt.

Many of my friends tell stories the opposite way, giving tons of unnecessary details, making me forget what the hell they were talking about. Let me give you a run down of a telephone conversation I had last week.

It’s late Thursday evening. Essa is laying on the bed, staring at the ceiling fan and wondering why she is so dizzy. The phone rings. It’s Lisa.

Essa: Hel…

Lisa: (Cuts Essa off immediately. Her voice is thick with tears) I’m fucking done with Mark. That guy is an asshole.

Essa: (reaches into a nightstand drawer and pulls out one of her special ‘organic’ emergency cigarettes. She takes one brief sharp inhale before responding.) What did he do?

Lisa: (sniffles) well, it all started in December at his sister’s birthday party…

Essa: (as Lisa’s voice drones on, Essa starts to feel a little buzzed. She realizes she hasn’t been paying attention. She tunes back in…)

Lisa: …and I told him there was no way we’re keeping chickens in the apartment….

Essa: (wants chicken for reasons she doesn’t understand. Realizes that Lisa has paused and she is expected to respond.) Um, commitment issues?

Lisa: Exactly! Anyway, this past weekend…

Essa: (Lisa’s words are slowly lulling Essa to sleep. She is just about to doze off. The phone slips away from her ear)

Lisa:  …so after he invited his college roommate to join us for a threesome, I lost it. I killed him and dismembered him in the bathroom.

Essa: (eyes pop back open immediately and she is no longer sleepy) You didn’t think to lead off with that?

I have no problem listening to my friend’s problems, but I will admit, I think like a man. I’m thinking of solutions. When someone calls me to say they killed someone, I don’t go into sympathy mode. I go into ‘get rid of the body and think of an alibi’ mode.

I look for solutions. That’s why I like to know what the problem is up front. So I know whether I’m going to say ‘dump him’ or ‘get over it’.

Anyway, I really think that the inverted pyramid could really help us all be a bit more decisive. Give me the basic issue first, and then expand on the details as needed.

Ladies out there, I have no problem listening to your problems. Honestly, I fucking live for drama. But if you’re going to tell a story, you’re going to need to hook your listener. Otherwise, know that I’m dozing off on the other end of the line, repeating generic phrases I heard on Dr. Phil

Apparently, Everyone Wants to Be Me

Hey Guys Just wanted to give an update on my ongoing stalker situation.

My Essa wannabe, or a wannabe of my wannabe, got onto my page last night and posted a few weird comments using my name. Not inflammatory…just weird. I don’t know if it is the person from Twitter or someone else entirely.

I don’t think any of the posts got through, as they got stuck in moderation and I have deleted most of them. However, they were pretty clever about how they went about it.

For example, they were smart enough to use a proxy to log on, masking their IP. Because of this, I am going to be forced to take drastic measures to prevent them from attacking my page and impersonating my awesomeness in the future.

I will be banning anonymous IPs and IPs using a proxy from my page until I get this ironed out. If you have private browsing enabled on your internet connection, you will probably get a 404 error page instead of mine. Sorry for the inconvenience, but I don’t imagine this will effect a large amount of people. Just my internet stalker and people who show up here looking for ‘beastiality sex tours’.

If you’re worried that you won’t be able to get your daily dose of Essa, the only way around it is to not use a proxy or disable private browsing when you come to my page. Seriously, what are you trying to hide anyway? 🙂

 

***Update: Located and communicated with the fraudulent Essa…at least this one. I’m sure there will be more. This one was more lonely than nefarious, so I’m going to let it go. The IP ban has been lifted. You are all free to use proxies and private browsing again. Let the searches for beastialty sex tours commence!****

The Passion of the…Jesus f’ing Christ, That was Painful to Watch

I finally got around to it. After a mere ten years, I finally managed to watch my way through the Passion of the Christ.

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Note to self, double the hate mail you send to Mel Gibson.

Before I go off on an angry rant, I would like to point out a few things that were the saving grace of the movie. The acting was flawless. The settings, makeup and scenery were all realistic. The revival of a dead language, simply for the use of dramatic integrity, was an absolute stroke of genius.

I must say, it was the best snuff film that I have ever seen.

Because that’s what it was. It was a snuff film. A beautifully executed snuff film. No joke, I haven’t flinched away from a screen so much since I watched ‘2 Girls One Cup’.

Of course, those supporting the movie will state ‘it’s realistic. That really happened to Jesus.” To that argument I say, ‘yep, and Kevin Ware’s leg really snapped in half like a dry chicken bone. You want to get the popcorn and watch some slow motion videos of that too?”

I didn’t think so. First, just because it allegedly happened doesn’t mean it needs to be shown in all its glorious brutality. The story of Jesus is an interesting one. It also has more plot holes than a The Sixth Sense, which was so holey I hear the screenplay was written on a slice of Swiss cheese.

My main complaint was that it was shown on Network TV, in all its brutal glory. After watching Jesus get the shit beat out of him for about 45 minutes straight, I had to pause it and ask myself ‘they can put this on TV, but full frontal nudity is too much?”

Also, I didn’t get the bald chick with the weird midget. I think it was some kind of Satan thing? Which is weird, because Jesus was a Jew and Jews don’t believe in Satan? Or is it hell? Whatever. I actually got bored and dozed off for a bit.

Yes, I got bored and dozed off watching a snuff film. I’m pretty sure that tells you something right there.

Anyway, after 126 minutes of relentless beatings, the movie ends right at the good part, the Resurrection. Much like the bible, they leave out all the uplifting stuff and just leave your depressed with a cliffhanger ending. I’m sure the apostles were nice guys, but they really could have used a good story editor.

Its enough to make me want to skip the sequel, “Jesus 2: Revenge of the Messiah”.

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