Friday, November 21Doctor, Fugitive, Fat Guy, Baby, Hitman, Asian.
I'm working on another big essay for Monday, so to tide your over, here is the official Season 5 Lost trailer from ABC. You may want to have an extra pair of pants on hand.
Sound off in the comments section and enjoy your weekend.
Monday, November 17A War Of Words With An Unarmed Man.
(The following message was sent to me via Facebook awhile back. I've edited nothing, and I apologize in advance for the homophobic slurs.)
Subject: What's up man!
Message: Just kidding, I do not know you, just looking up Mike Crain's name and saw all your wastefull writing about him and his album cover..
1. Site design, weak
2. your pics show you as part chubby part homo looking
3. I wish you could get match with Mike, all of the 3>3>haha comments here youd get smacked down
4. Get a real job fag.
5. WI sucks, go Buckeyes!
lol, what a queer little boy you are.
Nice. Where to start?
If you haven’t been following the CDP saga that is Mike Crain & His Roving Cavalcade of Psychopaths, allow me to catch you up as quickly as possible:
Years back, I included Mr. Crain’s album cover in my ‘Worst Of All-Time’ list, which not only introduced thousands of readers to my site, but was also the funniest thing in the history of the Internet. I’ll wait while you go and check it out.
If you notice, I didn’t really make fun of Crain’s album cover at all. In fact, I only included it because I thought it was amazing and remarked as such. So, just to make things clear, I didn’t say anything bad about this guy. Done. Let’s move on.
Several months later, I get a hilarious piece of e-mail from someone who really needs to have their computer and Electroshock machine taken away from them. This led to The Legal Battle That Never Was, forcing me into what I consider to be the funniest conversation I’ve ever had with an attorney, and also marking the first time I’ve ever challenged a Man of God to a bare-knuckle fistfight. Read that essay, too; it’s funny, will bring you completely up to speed and remind you that stuff like this only happens to me.
Now, more months later, I get the above rambling Facebook message, and I fully realize that the calloused and holy Pimp Hand of Mike Crain is still strong, cracking through the cinder blocks of agnosticism, slander and doubt. Good for him! I’m a Reverend too; we should totally hang out sometime.
Now, I don’t know if crazy people are naturally attracted to the concept of Religion, or it’s Religion itself that drives otherwise normal people insane, but I know I need to stop spending so much damn time thinking about it. It’s like trying to find the final digit of Pi, or determining the exact point when Cameron Diaz became the least-attractive woman in Hollywood; a colossal waste of time and a recipe for failure and sadness.
While I don’t support or follow any sort of organized religion (anytime more than 6 people get together and do things in synchronization, I get scared), I admire people who live their lives for their Creator and spread the joyous, peaceful and sometimes guilt-riddled words of their Lord for eternity. You have to hand it to them, it takes a ton of dedication and blind faith to constantly turn off the voice of logic in their head that screams, “This is entirely irrelevant and makes absolutely no sense at all; can we please do something fun now, like learn about Science?” I couldn’t do it, and I feel that I’m a better man because of it. I don’t worry about my eternal soul, I don’t worry about the Afterlife, and I do what I can to be as nice as possible to everyone, every day, knowing full well that this probably all we’ve got. Srsly. Try it some day; being civil to your fellow man is always more well-received than using your faith as a weapon. I'm cool with Religion, just as long as it's cool with me.
But, for the time being, I want to step back and tear this ignorant nimrod a new asshole. As you can see, living by your own rules has its perks.
First off, I’m not going to give out this guy’s name and photograph (both of which I have), but I want to assure you that this man is an actual college student from Ohio, and not a tar-paper shack-dwelling neanderthal from…well, Ohio. He looks intelligent, appears as if he can dress himself and doesn’t appear to garner any lobotomy scars. I didn’t bother to ‘friend’ him and check out his profile, but I’d hypothesize that he has approximately 200-300 friends, lists his Political Views as ‘Conservative Christian’ and probably has one of those annoying sidebar Apps that tells everyone how the Buckeyes are doing. Typical Facebook stuff. How he managed to get accepted to college with the combined writing talent of a burlap sack filled with farts is completely beyond me. He must be majoring in Human Resources.
I also want to give this guy props for being at least varied with his rampant gay bashing. He could have just as soon called me a ‘fag’ three times in a row and jettisoned his message to my inbox, but no! He an artist! He decided to mix it up a little bit by dipping into the Encyclopedia Homophobia, and I commend him for that. If you’re going to be ignorant, at least put some effort into it. In the future, may I also recommend the term ‘fruit.’ That was always my favorite gay slur, back before I turned eight years old and stopped using them to get my nonexistent point across.
So the guy goes on to say that my site design is ‘weak.’ It’s personal preference, really, so I can’t entirely argue with him. I’d love to know what he expected to see on a personal blog, though. A header with a logo on it, a main body for essays and a sidebar for links and archives. Seems fairly cut-and-dry to me. It must suck to be this guy, knowing that approximately 99.998% of all websites in the Universe don’t meet his criteria of non-gayness. Every time he goes online, he must be in hysterics at all of the template atrocities that exist on the Internet. Perhaps he’s a MySpace fan. Hell, perhaps he invented MySpace.
Oh, and I do look chubby and ‘homo-looking’ in my photographs, so he’s kind of got me, there. I’m a 26 year-old man that doesn’t work out and loves Express Men. I suck in my gut when I’m in public and I have a penchant for argyle vests. Hey, when you’re right, you’re right. Score one for the lunatic.
Say what you want about their lifestyle, but as a generalized rule, gay guys know how to freaking dress. I also wish that I was classless enough to show you this guy’s photograph, because I swear to you that he’s wearing something that came directly out of my closet, no pun intended.
For his next point, I feel the desire to paste it here again, so you can read it once more and take in the full beauty of the thoughts that are trying, and hoplessly failing, to be conveyed.
“I wish you could get match with Mike, all of the 3>3>haha comments here youd get smacked down"
I’ve included a translation for those that he might have lost along the way. Like, you know, everyone.
A.) The author in question desires to see Mike Crain accept my challenge to a Mixed-Martial Arts match.
B.) The author in question feels that my readers have innaccurately placed me in a position of authority and respect, something he feels that I do not deserve. For this, the author in question has a lack of respect for my readers, and believes that they do not possess proper grammar and English skills.
C.) The author in question believes that Mike Crain, a man that, to the best of my knowledge, is barely clinging to life in a hospital somewhere, would emerge as the victor in his Mixed-Martial Arts match with me.
Now, I’ve done a lot of things for the good of the Communist Dance Party. I’ve attended a Timeshare pitch. I’ve attended an all-female Baby Shower. I’ve devoted thousands of hours over the course of almost five years to refine my writing style and point of view into something that could positively resonate with as many people as possible, in the hopes that it would somehow unite people across the nation with the overreaching message that even though we all have different experiences in our lives, we are all one, we are all brothers and sisters, we are all in this together, and we should strive to make each day as enjoyable and memorable as can be.
What I haven’t done, however, is beat the living hell out of a dying Reverend to one-up some Internet Douchetube that couldn’t accurately encapsulate a coherent thought if his soul depended on it. And although I’d probably find it rather satisfying, I’m taking the high road on this one.
The author goes on to instruct me to ‘get a real job,’ and once again makes a crack at my sexual preference, albiet slightly inaccurate, as I’ve been married for five years and have a very soft spot in my heart for vaginas.
At this time, I’d like to stop the essay for a moment here and remark that this is the first time in CDP History that the word ‘vagina’ has ever been used by me. This is a big moment, so take a second to revel in it. It’s okay to get misty-eyed, too; Lord knows I did. Also note that after approximately 10 minutes of deliberating, I chose the line ‘very soft spot in my heart’ over ‘very hard spot in my pants,’ in a close-but-decisive and overall necessary victory.
Stay with me, kids; we’re going to make it through this. Let’s continue.
So, this guy lets it slip that he thinks I blog for a living! God bless this man; how nice of him to assume such a thing! Believe me, if I were offered a full-time job where I could write stories about times that things almost happened to me but then didn’t, and also make fun of complete nutballs that totally had it coming, I’d be one very content little homo, believe you me.
He then goes on to insult my current state of residence and proclaim the sports team from his general region to be greatly superior to the sports team in my general region. This is so sad that I barely want to linger on it for too long. You can have that victory, if it makes you feel superior, dude. Furthermore, it’s not congruent to anything else referred to in the message, and frankly feels a little tacked-on. Stay on task, buddy; insulting someone is a fine craft, and you cannot be perceived as both desperate and serious at the same time.
He then closes out the message by calling me a ‘queer little boy,’ which actually sounds fairly adorable, if you ask me. I’d kill to look as handsome as some of those scene kids out there. See, I have this natural curl in my hair once it reaches a certain length, so I can’t wear it swooped over my eyes like I really want to. I’ve tried my wife's straightener, and it barely makes a dent in the damn thing.
Of course, you know that this guy has won. He spewed five lines of garbled text onto a computer screen in a desperate attempt for attention, and I responded exactly the way he wanted. But you know what? This was fun! It was cathartic, funny and actually shook me from the crippling case of Writer’s Block that has plagued me for the last six weeks. In terms of entertainment and positive effects on my life, it saddens me to say that this is probably the best e-mail I’ve received all year. I don’t get hate mail very much, mainly because I tend to keep to myself, make fun of the absurdity of life, and not bust on blatantly weird people with devoted masses of zombified, religious idiots to do their deathbed bidding.
Whoops, probably shouldn’t have said that. Nonetheless, you get my point.
Sound off in the comments section and enjoy your day.