JoeBeaudoinDOTnet

… they copy your MySpace page and add some crappy attempt at slander to it.

That’s right. Someone copied (some) of my MySpace page.  It’s not really all that creative, and it’s pretty asinine since the only thing that was done, in an attempt to slander, was “I like jacking off to porn all day long”. (I’ll be the first to point out that I’ve already tried this and it’s not good for the hand or for the organ in question. For Christ’s fucking sake, I don’t care to murder the kittens! PETA would be on my ass in a minute. Shit.)
Quite witty, this queen of wit. Apparently last login for Captain Intellect was 12/11/2006.

So I sent “Joe” the following message:

Must say, you have very sexy profile. Very sexy picture.

Now you must excuse. Must make sexy time with the hand.

High five!

Here’s the link.

Note: You’ll have to turn off the page style, since it won’t show up otherwise. If you have Firefox, simply select “View”, then “Page Style”, then “No Style” to see the thing.

As I lay sick in bed, and likely unable to call out tomorrow from that hell (which I shall soon be freed from, I can only hope) runneth over with spineless hypocrites, I nauseatingly reflect on Shitmas 2006.

The following quote sums up my feelings on Christmas (or any holiday that has been raped and hollowed out for the sake of making a quick buck) more eloquently and ferociously than anything I could come up with:

Christmas is an awfulness that compares favorably with the great London plague and fire of 1665-66. No one escapes the feelings of mortal dejection, inadequacy, frustration, loneliness, guilt and pity. No one escapes feeling used by society, by religion, by friends and relatives, by the utterly artifical responsiblities of extending false greetings, sending banal cards, reciprocating unsolicited gifts, going to dull parties, putting up with acquaintances and family one avoids all the rest of the year…in short, of being brutalized by a ‘holiday’ that has lost virtually all of its original meanings and has become a merchandising ploy for color tv set manufacturers and ravagers of the woodlands.

— Harlan Ellison, “No Offense Intended, But Fuck Xmas!” (1972) The Harlan Ellison Hornbook

I make no apologies for my firm beliefs in this matter. After experiencing the atrocities wrought by so-called human beings out to placate their spoiled progeny with vapid toys and intellectual devoid time wasters, Christmas has been perverted from a childhood joy into a steaming pile of fecal matter.

Or perhaps it was always like this, and my brain just finally realized this idiocy.