Dropping Bombs Like Your Moms

This beautiful holiday weekend is finally in motion, thanks to my consumption of food rich in fat and beer rich in self-retardants. This holiday is a time dedicated to celebrating our victory over Japan (thanks to a couple well-placed atomic bombs) thus ending WWII and letting us all get on to greater things, like Urotsukidoji and Ichiro.

In homage to this great event, I’m going to drop a few bombs of my own.


Not everyone is like you.

During the early eras of civilization, it would make sense that limited education and sparse scientific understanding would ultimately lead humans to assume that anything else deemed intelligent must be, well, human-like. Worst yet, we’ve perpetuated this senile anthropomorphism for centuries, and there are no attempts to slow our species-centric ways.
Think about it this way.

God made humans in his image = A tree shaped like a cock

Aliens with homo genus characteristics, such as bipedalism = Your cat saying “I love you”

In each equation, the unseen factor is A, which is equivalent to how bad you want to believe something is true.
Here is another example.


The artist who rendered this beautiful portrait near my breakfast joint shares the same pathological ideologies as most of the world. Although the intent was to create an alien, they simply couldn’t imagine a creature being semi-intelligent unless it has two arms, two legs, saucers for areolas and cock and balls. This is simply a drawing of an unfortunate human with a crazy eye and antennae. Where is the blob-like torso above the cilia that are shuffling it along while one of its seventeen tentacles itches its retractable nose/ass?

If something greater than humans exists, give it the benefit of the doubt and assume it doesn’t look like we do, built with the same flaws and susceptibilities as we have. Use your imagination, since that’s the part of you that lends credibility to all the gods, aliens, angels and faeries you believe in. I personally believe God has mega-supersized areolas and that Florida was made in his penis image.


Nobody cares what you think.

I’ll keep it simple. You are surrounded in a multitude of mediums that beckon for your input; your MySpace/Facebook status, your Twitter tweets, your forum threads, call-in shows and the comment box following every single thing you read and use. These are all relatively healthy communicative aspects of our new Web 2.0 lives. Our unprecedented ability to process and share information sets us far apart from the goldfish.

What I hope you keep in mind is that nobody cares what you think. Not your friends, not your parents. Nobody. And this isn’t my opinion; this is a fact substantiated by how little you care about what everyone else thinks. That is what makes this “everyone has a voice” marketing ploy generation flawed. 100% is talking but only 20% is listening. People who love to shove their opinion in your available holes rarely make an effort to hear other opinions, even regarding the same subjects.

I post opinions everyday knowing that not one person in the world truly cares. Try it. It’ll sand down that destructive ego of yours.


You are not cool.

First off, the word “cool” was violently ripped away from hip blacks by jealous whites, pummeled like Jodie Foster in The Accused and is now a bruised, stretched out shell of its former descriptive self.

That being said, you still do not fit the definition because the definition is going to change again. I’m taking the word and running off, reintroducing it back to the Earth so it can heal and find its true meaning.

Coolness will now be defined as your ability to be yourself. How much you don’t act like someone you’re not and how little you spend to be accepted by others are just a couple of the qualifications for the new cool. It will be revolutionary. We can change the world one independently strong outcast at a time, and you better believe I’m starting with that man in the mirror.


Have an amazing holiday weekend and get your own personal VJ this Monday.