Bullshit Manifesto

It’s a bird, it’s a plane, it’s a gigantic flying perv! Yes, it’s the inner child Kid Ass Avenger (PSFC). Your inner child runs amuck in the inner streets of your inner Mardis Gras. He, in fact, is the queen of the parade, and by the end of the night, or any night of your life, is always smothered in the finest beads.

He is also a child genius, but uses his powers to bizarre and ambiguous ends. He may give you the power to save the universe from total destruction one day and the next day save you from dipping a french fry in ketchup. Who knows what adventures lie in your unconscious future?

Be wary, though. It’s all part of his master plan to make *you* the super-villian.

The desription on the site is pretty dead on. Take this test for a hoot.

Or you could just take out your junk and rub it against a wet bar of soap. That’s always fun.

You might remember me as one of the students that could have gotten an A in your class, but instead ditched class to smoke in the auditorium. These facts are true, but they don’t contain all of the truths within our story. Just so the facts are on the table, let’s remember the order of events that led to my failing your class.

Our economics class started Junior Achievement, which you changed to Senior Achievement so that us seniors wouldn’t feel juvenile. As part of the curriculum, we were to create a product, market it, and sell it. We also elected class members to act as a board for the business. We elected a president, a vice president, a treasurer, and a secretary. My skills in math were exceptional, so I ran for treasurer. During my speech to get elected it was painfully aparent that I should have run for president, but it was too late to change my decision. That’s fine, I understand.

When it came time to sell the mugs that we had decided on there were monies that needed to be counted, kept track of, etc. As I was in a car pool and worked after school, I needed to perform these tasks during school at some point, whether it was nutrition or lunch, it didn’t matter to me. This time was my break time as much as it was yours. My tasks wouldn’t have even taken the entirety of these breaks. Even so, you replaced me as treasurer because I was unable to meet my responsibilities. What with the time frames involved never being mentioned when we were choosing positions to run for, and the fact that you wouldn’t bend for me in any regard, I started ditching your class, only to show up occasionally to ace a test or deliver a speech or project that I would also ace.

I failed your class. I failed government the next semester, too, as my feelings for you hadn’t changed.

As a student in your classes, and a friend to many other people that were in your class, allow me to let you in on a little secret… your students don’t like you. You are pompous, arrogant, and an insufferable prick. “Those that can’t do, teach.” comes to mind when I think of you. There are those that teach because they are good at teaching. You are not one of these, but rather the prior.

One could argue that I am bitter because you failed me. The fact is that I had to take summer school classes every year of high school, and saturday school my senior year in order to graduate in August, but I don’t hold a grudge against my other teachers. My beef with you was as a person, not a teacher.

You are now failing a friend of my brother, who seems to have the same gripes as my classmates did. Do him and the future generations a favor by retiring. God knows you are old enough for it.

And, no, we don’t care how long you’ve been teaching.

There’s been some buzz about GMail, an email service offered through Google, online for a while now. As an “active member” on blogspot, I have been offered a chance to beta test it. Granted, every single member of blogspot may be offered this “chance,” but I like that they noticed my active member.

I have signed up for the service, but I need help from all of you, oh my brothers. As I don’t intend to change my address, nor inform all of the people in my address book of the possibility, without knowing how it works, I’d like lots of reader emails. Just drop a line letting me know how you are, how you like the site, etc. I’m curious to see how the “conversation” format looks in this deal, so with your help I can enlighten the masses.

My email there is theloop@gmail.com. Easy enough to remember, right? I’m hoping that it’s the shit, so I can get off the yahoo. I like that they offer more space than hotmail, but 1 gig versus 6 megs is significant.

On a sidenote, why isn’t Fucking the Pain Away by Peaches on the Lost in Translation soundtrack? “Sucking on my titties” was in my head for weeks after I saw that movie.

I just put in an order for 10 of the bumper stickers that will say:

Iocaine.
I’d bet my life on it.

They are pretty cool looking. The background is black, “Iocaine” is in white “impact,” and “I’d bet my life on it.” is in red “marker.” I am pleased with the sample pic, but only the actual sticker will make me 100% sure of this company, which leads to my next question…

If I were to make, or have made, stickers with quotes from movies, then try to sell them, what are the copyright laws like? Can I quote, but only if there aren’t trademarked words? Would any quote be copyrighted?

Basically, I’m figuring that I could start a little ebay side business. There are enough movie freaks out there, why not make a profit from it, you know? Hell, if I’m paying $3 a sticker, someone else will pay $2 plus postage, easy. And the way stickers are priced if you buy them in bulk, that would mean some hefty profit for The Loopster.

Any info would be appreciated in the comments or email… or up your ass. Yes, definitely in your butt.

Dear SUV owner,

Why the fuck do you need so much machine? Your car is not who you are. Your car is a conveyance for your person, other persons, and gear between any number of points. If you are carrying people or gear that necessitates an SUV, then so be it. All of you soccer moms, however, can suck my soccer cock. You have all been surviving fine with minivans, why the change? Because you don’t want to look like a soccer mom? Because you want to flaunt your wealth? By diamonds and drive a porsche. If you need to carry gear, get a vehicle that applies. If you think you need an SUV to drive the kids to school and to their sports activities, I sure hope you have to go offroading to do it.

SUV means Sport Utility Vehicle. This doesn’t mean that if you play sports, pay utilities, and need a vehicle that this is the car for you. The “Sport” is referring to the need that this particular vehicle will serve, that of someone who will drive their car for sport. I have a friend that drives a Jeep up north to Washington and needs the 4 wheel drive for where he goes. He also carries drums in the back, so he needs the space. That’s cool.

I guess all I am really angry at is our country’s problem with gluttony and excess. We don’t need Humvees, it’s an image thing. The image you are portraying to me is one of superficial pride, contempt for nature, ignorance of politics, ignorance of economy, and ignorance of the difference between necessity and desire. You are giving your children the worst possible example by showing them that you can throw money at your problems and insecurities and they will go away, or even worse, that what you buy defines who you are. Shame on you.

Choad.

Here’s another pet peeve for the books, and I have a feeling that a rant will be included, free of charge, of course. Let’s draw out a scenario. You go to the market in your car, a standard sedan. A compact car. You try to find a spot, and notice that an SUV has parked in a spot for a compact car, but as an SUV isn’t compact your compact car won’t fit into the spot next to the bohemoth. What should you do?

Personally, I write “COMPACT?” in the dust that is inevitably on their rear window. Short, sweet, to the point, and won’t get me arrested. What I’d really like to do would include bananas in the tail pipe, if you get my meaning.

Which leads me to the rant…

Yet another 3 day weekend in the life of the Loop, oh my brothers, and I’m happy to say that it has been a pleasant one. Friday Milca had to work. Normally this would mean that I would chill at home and do nothing, but her Jeep has been on the fritz, so we have been sharing a car. This meant driving her to work. I didn’t mind so much, as the gardeners had already been for their weekly “Piss Chris off as much as humanly possible” soiree.

After I got back from dropping her off I finished Star Fox Adventures for the GameCube. Entertaining, but a little too linear for my taste. It was reminiscent of Zelda, almost as though the people at Nintendo that couldn’t make the grade for Zelda were brought down to Star Fox to prove their worth. After fox, changed the sheets, took out the trash, picked Milca up from work, and took her to get her Jeep.

Saturday my brother Corey had his Eagle project at my old Alma Mater. He chose to fix some science classroom’s tables so that the legs didn’t wobble anymore, and the tops were no longer covered with scratches and graffiti. Awesome project, and as my friend Dave projected, his Eagle project involved painting something. Going to my old elementary school is something I do fairly often, as I am still involved with the Scouting program there. I had no reason to go to my old high school, however, in about 5 years or so. Let’s break this down real quick:

1) The lockers that were once hidden behind plywood are now visible and being used. This isn’t news to me, as my brother once used one of these. I find it especally ironic that not having these were one of my major gripes, and they became available after I left. C’est la vie.

2) Bungalows in the teacher’s parking lot. This was really odd to see, as I couldn’t imagine that they would hire that many more teachers, nor that they would have that many more students to justify the increase in classrooms/teachers. I later found out that almost an entire building’s classrooms are having construction done on them, which I believe includes A/C. Kudos to the administration for adding another of my gripes to the irony list.

3) A new bridge with an elevator. For those that know what I’m talking about, the span between where the H & I building meet, and the E building now has a bridge spanning the two. For those that don’t know, this new structure now makes it possible for Freshman A to get from his English class to his History class without having to go downstairs, to another building, upstairs, and to his class. There is now a bridge that makes this trip much shorter. There is also an elevator, which I have been assured is strictly for handicapped use.

4) Sophomoreville/Junior Junction/Senior Station is no more. What was once a hangout for most of the people I spent my high school tenure with has been completely reconstructed so that most of it is a fenced area with bike racks. There are a couple benches next to that area, but let’s be real here. All through high school the locales that I would hang out were taken away, made off limits, or completely fenced off. Now they went and destroyed another. I believe that makes 3 on the irony count. Thanks, administrators.

The project went well. We got more accomplished than we thought we would.

Afterwards, I met up with Milca at her mom’s, and we then went to Ikea and dinner. While at Ikea I saw a guy with an old school t-shirt that looked like Charlie Brown’s, yellow with a zig-zagged brown stripe, and on this guy’s arm was an attractive woman with, get this, dark curly red hair. Yes, ladies and gentlemen, as of now Charlie Brown has won the heart of the red head with curly hair. Everything in life seemed to be put into perspective at this point. No matter how bad things are, no matter how much you want to give up, there is always hope… even if all the words you can muster come out to “Good Grief.”

I would like to take this moment to welcome all of my foreign visitors. To date I’ve had visitors from the US, the UK, Canada, Singapore, Japan, Israel, Romania, and France.

I would also like to answer a question a domestic visitor had about my use of language, as such an explanation may be necessary for those still earning english. Typically I would reply to a commment in the comments, but I thought that this would be an answer best suited for a post.

I like to think that I’m fairly eloquent. Even so, I do like to use some socially unacceptable language from time to time. For the most part, I use it for shock value, or to create a feeling of comfort. Like most people, I only typically use this language with people that we feel comfortable with.

I hope this was helpful in answering your question.

Poop.

I cleaned up the links a bit. If you’re visiting, post a comment with your URL in it. I like to know who’s watching, and may link you if I like your goods.

Heh, your goods. That’s like your junk and shit.

Penises.

Vaginas.

Butt Sex.

Today’s lesson in vocabulary will be on the word cré. No, that’s not how it’s pronounced. It’s more like cr-eh, with the eh sound being played on the sinuses a bit.

Cré is a versatile little addition to your vocabulary, as it takes many forms. First, the adjective.

“I just saw Kill Bill 2, and it was totally cré.”

“I love your shirt. It’s cré.”

Basically, it’s another term for cool, but this is merely the beginning, as it can also take the place of other words, or even syllables in a word.

“I have to drive my brother to cré.”

“The cheesecake was fantas-cré”

“Let’s go to Cré-sneyland for my birthday.”

The negative forms for cré are also available to you.

“That’s diet cré. One calorie of cré. Not cré enough.”

“I just saw that latest Meg Ryan film, and it was ab-cré.”

Etcetera. Cré is a versatile tool at your disposal. There is no limit to cré. I guess I should get off my cré and get back to work.

The Loop in no way claims ownership or creation of cré. This has merely been a post for the education of the masses, as The Loop was once educated.