Tutorials

For years, probably more than half of my life, I thought a tutorial was a large turtle. Something like a tortoise but more turquoise. I was wrong. Tutorials for those of you who like me fall into the realm of stupidity are guides to help you. They’re directions. Rarely helpful too.

I never would look at the guide to video games. This was probably not a smart thing to do. One of the few sleepovers I ever went to involved playing the lesser known video game called Madden Football. I lost on the last play of the game because I didn’t know the rules of football. I also saw my half-Jewish friend’s ass. I don’t know why he showed it to us. Possibly a half-Hebrew tradition. I had another encounter with a football video game where a tutorial could have done me some good. I was at my former friend and now mortal enemy Michael Barbera’s house. I’ve mentioned how much he sucks before and will continue to do so. We were playing Nintendo 64, a system which I did not own or was familiar with, and Michael thought it would be to his advantage to not tell me how to pass the ball. I had to quarterback sneak on every play. Somehow, I stayed in the game. On the last play of the game I made a 70 yard dash for the end zone. Michael was so angry and probably gay that he ripped the system out of the wall. What a sore sport. What bad taste in movies too. His favorite movie was Good Burger and I remember watching Jungle 2 Jungle with him. Christ, I need to stop making friends with people just because they have big funny ears.

(My former friend Michael being fresh)

I have since began to try to at least look at directions. That old paper clip on Word Documents convinced me. Remember that douche? Computers are one thing I have lots of trouble understanding. I’m not even positive if mine is on right now. I might be typing into nothing. I’m going where all of those “missing text messages” I’ve sent people are. Seriously, text messages never go missing. Anyone who says they didn’t receive your text is lying. They’re not an honest person. They thought hanging out with you would be boring. The problem with computer tutorials is that you need to be computer literate to continue with them. It puts you in quite the predicament. It’d be like if you had to die to give birth. You exist only so something else can later exist. What a terrible existence.

(He looks like he’s in love. Even outdated cartoon paper clips had someone to spend Valentine’s Day with. What’s your excuse?)

Cars usually have manuals. Neither of the cars I owned did. I don’t know what use a manual really has for a car. I know how to drive it. I know how to open the door. I know that mechanics will try to sell me parts that don’t exist. A hand guide on how to work my car isn’t necessary. That’s why whenever someone buys a new car they go for a drive around town and toss the manual out the window at a rookie police officer, waking him up in the process. There are certain things that don’t need a guide-book. We can learn to use it by simply doing it. That’s how I learn best. Imagine trying to describe to someone how to eat or poop. It sounds impossible. It’s something you do and learn how to do at an expert rate.

(Tori Spelling; expert pooper and clearly by this picture aficionado at eating)

What was the point I wanted to say with all of this? Oh, it’s this. I don’t like tutorials. Directions, rules, seminars; all of them blow. Has a PowerPoint slide ever taught us a thing? All I ever learned was that my eyesight is getting worse and that I don’t like Sans Serif font. It sounds too much like a terrorist leader to me. My desk at work is covered in binders filled with directions and specifications of how to do something. I hate it. If something needs a guide-book, it’s too complicated. I shouldn’t have to read 200 pages to understand something. I’ve read books that long and still have no idea what they’re about. It took a 22 minute episode of South Park for me to understand Great Expectations. How is that book classic literature? Farting between two pieces of oak tag has more artistry to it.

(Women are crazy. That’s the abridged version for ya)