Who loves yah baby?

Hey, long time no see.

Yeah, I know, no update, your life was never the same without me, blah blah blah.

But I have some good news.

I'm feeding your sickness. Oh, yeah, I got what you want baby, right here.

Anyway, I'm sure you missed me.

Particularly Psychology class in Mineral Wells. Especially you.

You know you like it.


Anyway, back to our regular program...

So, I'm perusing my myspace account today, checking up on all 30something of my friends.

Yes, I said 30something. Yes, I know, I don't have 109675 friends or more, so I lose at myspace.

Damn.

Anyway, I'm searching the bulletins and all I can find are goddamn surveys.

Listen carefully.

Who...the...Hell...wants....to....do...a....survey???

You know those telemarketers that call you up? The ones you hang up on?

They want to give you a survey too! What's the goddamn difference?

Every once in awhile, a decent, unique survey comes along that I want to fill out.

Every.
Once.
In.
Awhile.

if you wanna do a survey every 10 minutes so people can know how you "feel", you're either

a) retarded

b) like fishing for compliments with your nonchalant low-self-esteem answers.

c) both

We know you have low self esteem.

Maybe it's cause you're ugly.

Moving on the next atrocious creation myspace has helped along throughout the recent years and whose creators deserve a slow death and a meat grinder to their genitalia while their retarded kids watch is...

Chain Letters.

Chain goddamn letters.

Someone stop them.

They don't make you popular, they don't make anyone feel better, they won't make your desperate, oily, acne-infested ass any luckier in your love life. Period. I know you hope, but with looks like yours, don't.

What I do hope for, though, is the fact that some witch that died on an Indian reservation burial ground which is under your house will come to your bedroom that night and rape your babies.

That's a fun idea, I like that.

Unfortunately, this is what "supposedly" happens to people who don't send the chain letter.

Great, people are being punished for stopping stupidity.

What the fuck are we teaching our kids these days?


The next cultural disaster that myspace has genetically mutated into something more retarded, is...

Those damned emo kids.

Look, you may think you look cool in your tight jeans, with that nasty, ugly, oily mass on top of your head, wearing eyeliner thicker than your white trash mustache, but, you don't.

You won't.

Ever.

Sure, your mom says you look cool.

Your mom's a cool lady, and she's very open to your artistic (retarded) needs.

She probably even let you drink that one time.

But guess what?

You ain't goddamned cool, people laugh at you behind your backs at the mall.

Yes, even your friends. They actually have to pretend to like you and talk to you so as not to hurt your oh-so-sensitive feelings.

I'm sure they're plotting your death.

All in all,

Survey-takers, we really don't care how low your self esteem is.
You're ugly, get used to it.

Chain Letter creators and senders, if you don't tell 50 people about this blog by Sunday night, your grandma's mutilated corpse will come swiftly in the night and rape you in your sleep. Have fun, and tell her I said "Hi."

Emo kids, Just kill yourself already. We're all waiting, I will be filming it and selling tapes.

And remember, you cut down the vein, not across.

Down the road, not across the street.

Until next time, always remember.

There are two kinds of people in this world, living people, and retarded people.

In other words

Don't be fucking stupid.

Don't die.

Simple, huh?