The Big Four-Oh-Oh
You don't have to tell me. I know it's dorky to count how many blogposts you've posted. It's time consuming, not very socially productive and ulitmately unnecessary, but then so is washing my hands 80 times daily and checking every 3-4 minutes to make sure the front door is locked. It's a disease, people. You should pity me. And send money.

When I click on the big orange button to Publish [this] Post, I will have done so for the 400th time. It's quite an auspicious occasion, an opportunity to reflect, to look back with some perspective over a lifetime of grand achievement, triumph mingled with deep human tragedy and the well-earned fawning admiration of fellow journalists, entertainment personalities, world leaders and Andy Rooney.

No, hang on. I'm thinking of the memorial service for Peter Jennings. Me, I'm just some dude who spends too much time blogging.

Some bloggers would exploit a landmark like this to phone in a cobbled-together "clip show" post using pieces of the "best" of past blogposts and whatever reader-comments s/he might find intelligible enough to qualify as highlights, if such a thing is possible.

The problem with that kind of laziness is that it is, as it turns out, a great deal of work. Lots of searching and reading and cutting and pasting and the like. Not for me, thanks. I have the capacity to be creatively bankrupt without all that fancy business.

Instead of all that I've decided just to write you all a nice, regular, long, boring blogpost which, see, I've just padded by several paragraphs with this introductory 400th post bullshit. Lord, but I am gifted.

I'm not going to leave you all empty handed, though. After you churn and sweat to pull yourselves all the way through this, I promise there will be a special little something at the end, after which you're sure to feel disappointed, a little humiliated and emotionally bankrupt.

If a more appropriate segue has ever been written to talk about porn, I've never read it.

I've considered joining the FBI (yes yes, I'll get to porn in a moment). It's one of those things people like me do when they're changing a diaper that has somehow failed to entirely do its job. It's not so much the duty and defending your country that appeals as much as the 18-week training program aaaaaallll the way out in Virginia. As far as I know, there is no day-care.

The problem is that if you look at the recruitment requirements, you can see the unfair, slightly fascistic roots of the Bureau. I mean, they actually only want people who have useful skills. I've never read anything so thoroughly un-American in my life. The closest specialty I qualify for is the Computer/IT one, but that's only if they limit the work to illegal song downloading. Not catching people doing it, I mean actually downloading illegal songs. That at least I know I can do. Catching people, well gee whiz, who fuckin' knows, right? It sounds difficult.

Now, however, I have a little bit of hope. The FBI is putting together an Anti-Porn Squad. That's right, the FBI will be diverting agents from the silly business of chasing down domestic terror cells in order to make all of us work a little bit harder when we have to (have to) masturbate.

I don't know if it's a good idea or a bad idea (although I may be leaning slightly in one direction), but I think sitting around all day looking at porn and then deciding arbitrarily what should be legal or illegal is right up my ally. It appeals both to my bloated, groaning sense of sanctimonious self-righteousness and my insatiable desire to look at images of naked chicks totally doin' it--often with other naked chicks--all day long, all at the same time.

The good news is that it apparently has no connection to the Anti-Child Porn unit, so there'd be no looking at any of that icky, depressing stuff.

Of course the downside is that you'd probably have to look at a lot of dude-on-dude porn too, but I figure there'll be at least one guy in the office who doesn't mind "specializing" in that branch of the investigation, so I can pass it all off to him in exchange for anything he comes across involving lesbians, clowns or any combination of the two.

Man. I'm excited about this. No, not in that way. Yet.

At first I was sort of down on the new Attorney-General's anti-obscenity Morality-Police crackdown, but I'm past all that now. $42,000/year to watch porn. Wow. I made less than that when I was in porn. But that's another blogpost. Maybe for my 500th.

Actually, nothing I can say about it would be funnier than the anonymous quotes from agents in the actual article. Go read it, you'll laugh.

OK, now for the grand finale. I drew this picture last night in about 4 minutes on MS Paint. First what you must do is go over to Rita's blog and look at the drawing of herself jauntily leaning against the Chicago skyline. Then consider headlines like the following: Rita strengthens and moves into Gulf. Now close your eyes for a second and visualize.

This is what you see, isn't it?

The actual Rita would like you to know that she is in fact "not really that fat". Yeah yeah. Tell it to the poor buggers in the tiny house you're about to go Godzilla on. But I guess that's what they get for flying the Confederate flag.

See? I told you you'd be disappointed.

Aloha.



This post on the Narcissus Scale: 8.5


Pops
- posted by Pops @ 11:25 AM