What Blog Are You Reading Right Now?
Six days a week is a lot of space to fill. I will admit to you that not every single post is of absolutely unassailable quality. Internally here at Bucket Global World Offices & Water Park we have a scale we rate each post on ranging from "Totally Fucking Awesome" (highest) down to "Yeah, OK... But Still Pretty Fucking Great" (middle) and finally, shamefully, "Check Out The Guns!" (lowest). The last one I scream to myself while flexing to distract myself from the shame of bad posting and also to make myself feel better by reminding myself that if this all goes to shit, I will always have my God-given physical gifts, which are more than ample. Seriously, I'm totally ripped. When completely disrobed before showering or just to oil up, I weep. Not because of any sadness for myself, but for the rest of you and what must by necessity be your comparative mediocrity.

When it comes to blogging, the bad posts come when I don't have anything at all to say. Or OK, sometimes those turn out pretty awesome too, but most of the time I think it's pretty obvious when I'm laboring through a case of the creative dry heaves.

I will resort to posting pictures with minimal commentary. I will resort to crappy MS Paint exhibitions. I have participated in those meme thingies. I will resort to following my kids around and screaming at them to do something noteworthy.

What I have never, ever done is participated in one of those personality quiz things that tells you what kind of car you are (Hyundai Sonata) or what season you are (Fall with Winter tendencies) or which New Kid on the Block you are (Jonathan) or what grain size and type of gravel you are (1 mm dolomite).

The answers are generally arrived at by asking a series of vague questions that are supposed to divine the subtle currents and eddies of your personality invisible to even you, harness them and emerge with the self-shattering realization that if you were a SuperFriend you'd be Gleek the Space Monkey.

As I said, I've never really participated in one (as far as any of you know). And I am not going to participate in one today. But I feel compelled to share with you the bounty revealed to me by some serendipitous link-following.

I found myself at Quiz Farm, an totally unassuming, some might say lackluster affair of black text on white background. It is filled with quizzes of just the sort I was talking about. Only THESE quizzes anyone and everyone is invited to just kind of make up in a matter of seconds when bored.

As you might have guessed, most of the results are horrific and/or completely unreadable. The place is clearly overrun with members of the myspace generation with all the syntax-murdering implied therein.

As awful as they are, one I felt compelled to share with you. The subject matter is predictably faux-scandalous. Really, the kids try, but it's like catching a monkey looking at a Playboy. At first you feel uncomfortable, but after a while you just kind of go "Awww, look at the funny, funny monkey! Stupid, confused monkey!"

The one I found is called What Body Part Are You Attracted To?

What sets it apart from the typical "What kind of Eggo are you?" fare is the nature of the clever, probing questioning in the Socratic fashion.*

The impenetrable intellect of the questioner is on grand display. The cunning and guile that goes into crafting these things never fails to astonish me. The highlights:

1 You ever find your eyes lowering to mans groin?
5 Do you like cleavage?
13 Do you find yourself staring at a persons butt?

Wow. I don't know what these japes and ruses are angling for, but I am desperate to find out! If I answer all three (THERE ARE THREE!) dick-related questions (including a judicious and appropriate application of the word "shlong" [sic]) in the affirmative... my God, the tension. What will the answer be?! Besides, you know, that I'm a gay.

The best thing about it is that the questions are YES/NO yet there are FIVE FILL-IN CIRCLES to select from. Benefit of the doubt would suggest we say that indicated a range of response, but let's not get crazy with the doubt-benefiting.

Funnily enough, I plugged in my answers and you know what it said to me? "Kill everyone between the ages of 14 and 20 and let's just start over. Oh, and you like boobies."

Maybe it's the first sign of machine sentience that leads to the apocalypse glimpsed in The Terminator or The Matrix or any other of those movies featuring monosyllabic lead actors. If it is, I have to take it seriously: It knew I liked boobies. Spooky.



This post on the Narcissus Scale: 8.7


Pops


PS- Check out the guns!!!!

* = I mean Socrates according to his abilities right now, having been dead for 2,500 years.
- posted by Pops @ 11:25 AM