Dear Evil Discussor... You're a total fucking asshole, aren't you?
Which is my point here really. And if this simple action of answering your question, even though it wasn't just a question and did not follow to a tee the simple rules laid out on the top of this webpage, stoopid, doesn't single-handedly and, in a matter of but a few short words, refute your accusation of my assholishness, and prove you to be incorrect, and me to be a nice fellow, a man with no ill will, and no assholery to be speak of, then this surely will: No. I am not an asshole.
What? Still here? That's not enough? You want more proof? Fine. I've noticed that bloggers like to make "Here are a few things you should know about me" lists so I thought I would too. Here are a few things you should know about me:
1) I am the the kindest, gentlest of bears.
1b) Not in that I am big and hairy, but in that I am soft and cuddly, with big bear claws and horribly fearsome hibernation-like breath.
2) I care about things. Like, children. The environment. And bitches.
3) I'm a nice guy. The kind of guy who is always there for a friend. Who always has an ear, and yes, a shoulder, to lend. Who, when you're feeling down, comes over unannounced, rings your doorbell, and as soon as you open the door, gives you a very super tight, and super long hug, for a long long while, then just about when you think the hug will never ever end, squeezes your butt cheeks and leaves, all without ever speaking a word.
4) Not much of a list, I suppose, but that's all you should really know about me at this point. Sometimes, when I let people get too close, when I let them in too far, I get very, very hurt. Especially when I let them in through the bum.
5) Besides, this whole list gag is getting tired.
6) But that bum joke was pretty good, yes?
This picture of a butterfly has nothing to do with anything. I just thought it would nicely break up this awfully horrible expanse of mind-numbing words, and maybe give you a chance to get a drink of water.
Anyhow, I'm a wonderfully sweet person. I can't help it. That's just the kind of guy I am. And, now that I think about it, maybe the fact that I like pictures of butterflies proves that even more. (Then again, it also might just prove that I am maybe fond of the same sex, if my "bum sex" joke didn't already, plus, all this talk about "assholes", and the fact that I posted a picture of a penis last week, and then just now linked it again, but let's just leave that at that, and anyways, stop being such a fucking homophobe, you fucking homophobe.)
Listen. I'm a nice guy. I just play an asshole in my bloglife. It's fun. But more than that, it's important. It's a service I'm providing here. And you know that. What I'm actually doing here, see, is I am actually lampooning the rampant assholioism that runs wild and unfettered every hour of every day here in Blogland, USA. What I'm doing is satire, and you don't need to know the work of Johnathan Swift, or of Lenny Bruce, or of Howie Mandel to understand that. I'm a parody of your typical blogster. It's irony, lads. I am playing the role of the bloghole in order to shine a bright white hot light on the current state of blogholism today. And if you don't get that, it's probably cause, well, you, um, don't, get, uh... alright, it's probably because I'm no good at satire. And bad at parody. And barely even know what irony is. And also suck at being funny. So, yeah, that's a problem. And maybe something I should work on. But anyhow, in the end, it's art, folks. And, trust me, no asshole would ever claim that his blog was art.
So to answer your question, I'm not an asshole. And there is absolutely no reason to believe that my assholish ways is just me projecting, that it's all just a cover, a mask, a shield for my total all-encompassing, debilitating meekness, and that I just started up this blog so I could anonymously seek revenge for those 12 to 18 years of being the totally fucking invisible pencil-necked fucking nobody, the fucking zit-faced rag doll in the high school hallway, watching from a distance as all those horrible fucking fuckers got laid and had a great time and made plans and got high and did things and went on to be successes and barely fucking even batted an eye my way after 10th grade, not even to humiliate me, and now, thanks to the the internet, I can sit in my own room and say every last fucking thing I ever wanted to fucking say without anybody interfering, with nobody getting in my way telling me what to do or or how to be or when to speak.
I have no idea why you would say that or think that about me. That's ridiculous. I know, you never said it, but I'm sure you're thinking it. And it's not at all true, so stop thinking it. Cause its not true in the slightest. I don't know who might have told you that, but it's a total fucking lie. And it's not true. It's a lie. So, yeah, anyways, I'm not an asshole. And anyways, fuck that, and fuck you, douchenose.
No, I'm just kidding. You're not a douchenose.
See? Niceness. My point exactly.