So I'm flipping around. Clicking is more like it but at least I no longer refer to the remote control as the clicker. Sometimes this happens. I desperately require surcease of sorrow for that next poke-fun-at-(include name of liberal asshole here) tale that's just over the horizon and begging me to search for it.
I'll perchance stop long enough at a liberal-who-thinks-he's-a-conservative blogsite, because I'm waxed from trying to find real news and just want a cyber fuck. You know, the quickie gleaned from perusing someone who has no core beliefs but feels he's cool because his other coreless amigos say so. First rule in managing a quickie-coreless-cyberfuck blog is to rant about things other than, say, how abortion as birth control sucks, because that might prove to the coreless club that you've stooped to giving a rats ass, and giving a rats ass means you've sunk to the level of the smallfolken. The ones who began blogging after the advent of AOL Journals or Blogger, or MySpace turned blogging into a diary for the terminally constipated, and diluted the hits for everyone. Way back when, people stopped by this new deal called Blogging, became accustomed to stopping by, and a great many of the coreless became famous because there wasn't any competition to speak of.
People are creatures of habit surely you've learned that, and there are lawyers galore who remain hitmeisters because they became as comfortable as an old pair of shoes. I say lawyers and don't really mean someone of the legal persuasion, just someone who sounds like someone of the legal persuasion. These guys and gals...now there's a name for a Broadway hit if ever there was one...are, generally speaking, the drive-by-elitists that stoop to conquer only when self-back-patting becomes tiring and they require someone stopping by who needs a quickie-coreless-cyberfuck.
Trouble is, they sound just like lawyers sound when they think what they're saying is funny but it's really just stooping to cyber-conquer and not the least bit humerous. They are not funny, will never be funny, but hang around for the same reason Saturday Night Live does. People got used to clicking in and came back for more.
This seques into one of my more passionate rantations that says no one will ever become famous for being a true conservative. Hasn't happened yet. Infamous yes, famous, no. Becoming famous means you've stayed around long enough by poking fun at liberals and not much of anything else. Not that there isn't a genuine need for liberal-fun-pokers. But nowadays we pretty much ALL do it, so how do the coreless cyberfuckers stand out in the crowd?
They circle the wagons, for one. The long-in-the-cybertooth club takes munificent care of its own, and since they really think that lawyer-mummery is hilarious they feed off of and promote one another. You must be a whiz at dressing better, eating better, drinking better, and having the aforementioned coreless dry hump at the ever ready in order to impress the smallfolken. Trouble is, Cookie aside, the ones who claim to be professionals at any or all of the above are usually horrid dressers, cooks, and drinkers, but since when could a lawyer be aware of that? Those trained in obfuscation fall prey to the bedazzle of their own creation. Since they can now go forth and prevaricate with relative impunity, they through much practice then learn how to lie to themselves and one another.
Einstein perhaps said it best: Quick, swat that fly, he probably just stepped in shit. Pity that Einstein didn't get to have a Blog. Then he could create post after post where the cyber-humping zipless quickie givers could poke fun at him for being so stupid because he never shined his shoes all that often.
And he wasn't a lawyer.
Be careful now, when visiting the ever so casual punster who offers nothing but disdain for depth of character. It'd be easy to fall into such a trap and parade through life telling the world how much better you are at everything worth being better at. Just as Erma Bombeck persuaded the entire universe into believing that positioning the toilet seat up was a crime worthy of dismemberment, the ever so feminine shyster-male might con you into worshipping him because he begs so prettily and only pokes fun at easy targets.
And speaking of easy targets, imagine someone taking pictures of themselves shooting, yet offering neither hide nor hair of what the target looked like after they were done.
It's the epitome of something.
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