Posts Tagged ‘rants’

If God exists, he is a twin.

I got the results back from the radio contest I entered. You know, that one I was really excited about. The one that when I first found out about it I would lie in bed fantasizing. The one I had trouble sleeping over because the excitement was so strong. That one. Unlike Mitt Romney, I had a loser speech prepared. It’s basically just two middle fingers aimed at the rest of the world, but body language is still a language.

tara lynne barr middle finger(I used this picture before, pardon the laziness)

This week started off with me finding out late Monday/early Tuesday that I was not accepted into some impossible to get into Internship I applied for. I had my doubts about it anyway since it was a nationwide thing and probably every UCLA student with any potential applied. I wasn’t surprised when they sent me the email saying “Blah blah blah so many great people had to be turned away” followed with “Blah blah blah please follow us on Twitter anyway.” Why would I want to follow you anywhere after you rejected me? You’re not a woman I asked out on a date. I’m not going to be persistent and bug you forever.

Moving along to the radio contest and what I really wanted to talk about, obviously by now it’s clear that I didn’t get it. I was not selected as one of the 9 semifinalists. I thought I could possibly at least get that far. I had Carter “Super Fly” Johns on my side. He gets everything he wants in life. Maybe it would rub off on me.

I waited with masturbated breath (that’s a real thing, it’s when you’re exhausted from masturbating and haven’t brushed your teeth yet in the day) as 5 o’clock approached, the time they would be announcing live on the air the winners. They started with the males and I wasn’t there. Then they went to the females and I of course wasn’t there. Then they got to the duos and again, my name was not mentioned. I imagine this is what it must have been like to be a one-armed slave at an auction or a fat girl at a debutante ball. Name after name came and I was not selected. It was too late to throw in the towel. The judges had spoken and they told me to fuck off and die.

debutante ball(Beauty is in the eye of how much money your father has)

Now because it’s what I enjoy doing most and I’m only about an hour removed of having my hopes crushed, I think it’s fair for me to judge the 9 semifinalists they did select. You can check them out on the website if you want to search for them, but really you don’t need to.

The first person they announced was a black guy who shouted a lot. That’s cool. That’s really going to get people excited. The second one they played was a guy with a whistle. I’m not sure if he was black or white and that doesn’t matter. What matters is all I remember from the clip they played is that he blew a whistle. The final male solo guy that was selected didn’t stand out to me at all. He was very soft-spoken and boring. I can’t remember a thing about it. Maybe because I was too busy texting people saying “Maybe this is just a bad dream or a really in-depth prank.”

rape whistle(Maybe the video began with a rape?)

Then they announced the females. The first was the person who will win without a doubt. First of all, she’s attractive. People who work in a male dominated industry always want an attractive female around. Second of all, she’s actually pretty good and has a great speaking voice. She knows her stuff and I knew immediately after seeing her video that she would win this. That is unless she blows it. And when I say “it” I don’t mean the Program Director. The other two females had one boring girl and another girl who does roller derby. She used a Pantera song in her video so I’m hoping the radio station gets sued.

Finally the announcement of the winner in the duo category arrived. I was sure my name would be spoken. The only other time my name was on the radio was once during a friend’s podcast and another time when I followed someone on Twitter because he said he’d read our names on the air. It was epic. The first duo was two boring guys who do a podcast together. They look pretty old so good for them. The second duo was another boring duo who look pretty old. I get it. The prize is you get to work a year on the station and these guys may not make it. Then came the final selection. This was the selection that aggravated me to no end.

The final video was the one video I thought for sure wouldn’t make it. The video was of two twin brothers. Okay that’s cute. Two twin brothers who are sports fans on the air. But think about it. How the hell are we going to be able to tell the difference between the two? They have the same exact voice. All they did in their video was bicker and it made no sense. The bickering reminded me of my parents, minus my mom throwing a vacuum cleaner at my dad. I wish that was a joke. The twins really went all out for their video too. They surrounded the table they sat at with sports memorabilia. They wore suits. If the contest was “Get as many people as you can who came out of the same vagina and not say anything valuable” then these guys deserve to win. That wasn’t the contest though.

Dylan-Cole-Sprouse-Ellen-DeGeneres-29(The Sprouse twins being disgusting in a bucket)

My anger starts and ends with the fact that the twins were selected. I even already joked with others how dumb it would be to choose them. In a medium where you only hear people’s voices and you own that voice, there would be no way to differentiate between the two. They will have to say their names before everything they say. I’m sure they were selected because it’s a gimmicky thing and I know they won’t win. Still, I’m angry. I’m angry that neither of my videos, or even somebody else’s, was not selected over this novelty act. It’s not like their video was even any good.

I have one thing left I’m looking forward to hearing back from. It’s the one thing I’ve also entered the past two years. Is third time a charm? It would be a pretty romantic story after all the failures at everything I was looking forward to this month I end up winning that final contest, which I should add, has the best reward. $25,000 and a developmental deal? That’s more than I’ve ever made in a year. And maybe I’ll win that and be able to get this cyst on my back removed or pushed back in. I’m not sure what doctors do.

Who knew getting rejected by a second-rate sports station that I only listen to when WIP doesn’t do a live show on their online stream? I’m also happy the one guy who seemed like a real jerk and bragged in his video about being on TV before didn’t get it.

Hey white people. There is this director named Spike Lee. He’s that black guy who sits in the front row at Knicks games. He made a movie that came out in 2002 that can actually isn’t too anti-Caucasian. In it is a legendary speech by Edward Norton where he talks about everything he hates. I warn you this speech is not safe for work, unless you work for “Al-Ki-Ehh-Da.” Pay attention and you may get that.

So I thought why not write my own 25th Hour speech? It seems so liberating to get it all out. Just to have the chance to say fuck you to everyone who makes your blood boil sounds beautiful. And here it is, my 25th Hour speech, typed out because it’s tough for me to look at angry as Edward Norton. Imagine me saying this with a strange Edward Norton accent and you’ll appreciate it:

Fuck me? Fuck you. Fuck you and everyone in this god damn world.

Fuck neighbors who think they actually own the property they live in. They throw parties and think just because they pay rent they have the right to be as loud as they want. They spend their days screaming at each other and their nights blasting music and the television. You only can’t hear it now because you spent your entire life doing it. Did you hear me you deaf asshole? Shut the fuck up.

Fuck college kids and their complaints about life. While you were off experimenting for four years, the less fortunate people your age in this world were seeking tenure at their pennies a day jobs. Just because you have a degree does not mean you will get a job so quick you occupying Wall Street shit. You own an iPhone. Maybe money would not be such a concern for you if you didn’t spent half your income on beer and weed every Saturday night before heading off to see some shitty hipster band doing covers of lousy pop music.


Fuck the hipsters. You’re not fooling anyone. Your game of pity will only work so long. You spend more time trying to make yourself look accidentally ugly than you do realizing you’re not so special. You may wake up in the morning thinking you’re different and artistic, but you’re not. You’re a motherfucking following sheep. Glasses may make a person look smart or interesting but the second you open your mouth to speak we’ll all know you’re as shallow as that bowl of low-fat hummus you love to post pictures of on Facebook.

Fuck Facebook. Everyone on it uses it to brag when they actually accomplish shit and when they aren’t doing that it’s always an attempt at sympathy. Your day didn’t go the way you wanted it to? Welcome to something called life. Fuck your memes, your vacation pictures, and your haphazardly put together social agendas. You’re not going to change the world using the same form of social media a pedophile uses to jerk off to pictures of young girls.


Speaking of the pedophiles, fuck these phony religious folk who go around praising “His” name only to go home and molest their children, beat their wives, and do the complete opposite of what their favorite book tells them to. Furthermore, fuck the atheists who think their belief is the right way. You’re just as stubborn as everyone else and more than likely wasting your time as much as the Bible thumpers. Live by example and keep your opinions to yourself.

Fuck millionaire athletes and their giant homes and their model wives. They treat the fans like shit and they have everything. Does modesty mean anything to these guys? Sign an autograph, flash a smile, and hustle. That’s all we ask. And don’t get on Twitter bitching and complaining about anything other than not having enough charities to give your money to.

FBN:  Bengals vs. Chiefs October 14, 2007

Fuck the debate on gay marriage, both sides. If all of the money spent on the rallies, posters, and all of the other fundraisers by both groups was used on something else we could have one less problem in the world. While members of the pro-gay marriage camp are arguing with the stick up the ass Conservatives, down the street a kid who will never even grow up to know what gender he wants to fuck is dying of cancer in a hospital bed. Come together, stop your fighting, and concentrate on something more important, life.

Fuck corporate loyalty. You can work at a job forever and put all of your effort in and when you ask for one favor they give you a big fat middle finger. You’re nameless and faceless to them. When you bent over backwards to help out they took it as an invite to fuck you over. At least when the economy is shit we can always hope the CEO solves the problems with a shotgun blast to the head. Put your hands together and pray with me.

Fuck every politician out there from Barack Obama to those dickhole dictators overseas. How could we ever be so stupid and think any of these people give a fuck about us? So fuck us all for rallying behind false hope. And fuck those dictators for being such egomaniacs the only way they can prove they have a big dick is by threatening to kill the defenseless. Just because your dad was an asshole doesn’t mean you have to be you big fat loser.

Kim Jong Un

Fuck the Jersey Shore wannabes who spend more time sculpting their hair and abs than they do sculpting a personality. Fuck reality stars whose only enjoyable quality is they’re willing to get dicked on camera. Fuck Hollywood for recycling ideas and pulling wool over our eyes, making us think for once a movie will be worth the $15 it costs.

Fuck the banks for not being human. Fuck the housing market for not being able to get their shit together. Fuck girls who string along guys only to use them when they need favors without ever having more intent than using him as a ride. And fuck those guys for being such damn pussies they can’t stand up for themselves then whine about nice guys finishing last. Nice guys don’t finish last, bystanders do.

Fuck the American dream. We’re all told growing up that we are equal and we can be whatever we want to be. It’s as true as Santa Claus. Who you know, who you’re willing to fuck, and who you’re willing to fuck over are what matter, nothing else. To get that home with a picket fence and to have a family who actually gives a shit about you, be prepared to hurt others. It is the only way to get what you want.


No. Fuck us all. Fuck us all for putting up with this shit and never doing anything about it.

Well that felt good.

I had a lot of trouble coming up with a title for this piece. It is a piece after-all, like a beautiful musical symphony or a large serving of chocolate cake. There is no exact name for the type of people I want to talk about here, at least none I know of. In fact there are two kinds of people who have been bothering me so much that I had to write about. The first person is someone we all know. The second person is someone they know and adore. Seems simple enough, but what bugs me is when the first person talks about the person they adore like they’re a big dicked Jesus. Hopefully you have no clue what I’m talking about because I’ve wanted to stab people over this social problem.

Basically what will happen is you’ll have a friend, family member, or other person you have to be nice to because there’s something they offer that you need. They will then do one of two things. They will either tell you about someone they know or they will introduce the person they know into your life. Okay, there’s nothing wrong with that. The problem occurs when the person you know begins talking about the new piece of shit. And like I said earlier, they talk about that person like they’re Jesus with a gigantic sexual organ which I guess is the most amazing simile I could come up with.


(Big dicked Jesus gives “Second Coming” a whole new meaning. Was that a pun?)

I don’t mind hearing nice things about other people. Sure, it annoys me a lot to hear someone say something like “Brad is so wonderful. He’s funny, smart, and knows magic tricks. Nobody is as good as Brad.” Unless I’m Brad I don’t really give a fuck about how perfect the guy is. Why tell me how great someone else is? Why not have me meet the prick and make my own assumption. This has happened to me a lot. People will hype someone up to me and I meet them and you know what, I wonder what my friend finds so endearing.

Reasons for this to happen are many. One can possibly be Brad is in fact so fucking amazing that everyone he encounters has to brag about knowing him. I doubt it. I’ve never met someone worth bragging about. Sorry. And for the record, you shouldn’t have a reason to brag about knowing me. I take shits, I use racial slurs, and I cry. I’m nothing unique, special, or worth hyping up. If I want to impress someone I can do it on my own. I don’t need someone else mentioning my good qualities. If you really like supporting someone to a creepy degree, become a wrestling manager.


(Jimmy Hart, one of the greatest guys to ever walk someone with talent to a ring to pretend to fight)

Another reason people do this could be their own insecurities. When in doubt blame insecurities. Trust me on that one. If someone cancels plans on me I know it’s because they’re having a last minute social phobia. If someone constantly makes fun of the way others look it’s probably because they hate what they see in the mirror. I know this because I’ve done them both. Certain people I believe are so insecure that they use other people’s good qualities as their own. They think if they have some amazing friend that maybe you’ll think better of them. No. I never do. Was Richie any cooler because he was friends with The Fonze? Of course not. But he also had red hair which means it’s impossible to be cool.


(I don’t care if you have a varsity jacket on. You’re a Ginger reading a book. Such a square. Korean draft dodger. Other 50s references)

The final reason I want to hypothesis for this aggravating social assault is people doing this because they are evil and think this is a way of actually bragging and belittling others. It never works. When someone tells me someone they know is really great I know they’re not because usually the person telling me is pretty flawed. If someone existed and was so incredibly amazing and could do no wrong I have no doubt they would not associate with anyone I have ever met. People like this simply don’t exist.

My biggest peeve about this whole faux pas is why if you’re going to praise someone you not praise someone to their face? If you like someone tell them then shut up when you’re near other people. Simply put, I don’t care about people you like. Why? Because they are people who you like, not me. Maybe one day I will learn to like them too and we can get together and eat their ass or whatever it is you fantasy about doing to them. Until that day comes don’t bother telling me how great anyone is unless they’re me.

Girlfriends, boyfriends, mistresses, personal assistants, relatives, coworkers, children, friends, neighbors, professors, roommates, and celebrities have all been people I’ve been told were wonderful and ended up hating even more because you put them on a pedestal. It’s like telling me Superman is indestructible then later on mentioning his Kryptonite allergy once I point out the person’s flaws.

Do you know anyone who gives you these personal recommendations and you end up hating the person? Please say you do. I don’t want to be alone.

I’ve been thinking a lot about selling my soul lately. Not on eBay or something silly like that. I’m talking straight up to the Devil. It’s hard to get in touch with him though. The Devil has no cell phone service (he has a phone, just no service) and sitting around calling out for him does no good, I’ve tried. I thought maybe doing a post about my soul could help get in touch with him. Who knows? Maybe one of you knows the Devil or something. It’s called networking.

(Satan mocking us in a sweater)

Why would a man want to sell his soul? Is there something I want so badly I am willing to give up eternal damnation in order to get it? These are hard questions to answer. I think there are many reasons why a person should essential sell their soul. Maybe not so much to the Devil, but giving up your morals, integrity, and other human aspects in order to achieve something doesn’t sound so bad right now. I’ve come to the realization I would rather sell my soul before losing it. The same goes with anything. I’d hate to lose something I could have sold. Whether it’s my soul or valuable baseball cards, I hate losing my stuff.

If the Devil were here and he had a contract all written up in a fun yet readable font with a pen I could keep after signing I wouldn’t have to think long before giving him my John Hancock. Heck, I might even leave the John Han part of it out if the Devil looked anything like Elizabeth Hurley. Austin Powers really ruins careers.

(Suddenly I want a strawberry and my toilet cleaned)

There are a few things I would give up my soul to get. Oddly enough most are things I used to pray for. But I have lived my life a certain way to come to the realization a prayer is asking a favor and favors come with a price. The price in this case, my soul. The first thing I would ask for is losing desire. The desire to succeed, to be liked, the desire for everything I want it all gone. Isn’t that what Buddhism is all about? Being lazy and careless and having Urban Legends centering around gerbils up your butt?

(“No Tim, Buddhism is about much more than sticking small pets into your anus. It’s also about not doing anything worthwhile with your popular in the last 10 years.” – Richard Gere schooling me on Buddhism. Seriously, he hasn’t done a thing since Mothman Prophecies)

Selling my soul would basically be for exactly that lone purpose, losing my identity as a person with a soul. It’s been said in science books that every time someone masturbates Jesus cries and a cat kills a retarded person. I want to be the opposite of Jesus, I want to not care what other people do, think, or say. I guess what I’m saying is I’m tired of having emotions. I’m a little sick of being human.

Since my soul seems to have no takers I’m going to keep it. This reminds me of the one time I tried selling some old action figures on eBay and nobody bought them. Rather than throw them in the trash I’ve carried these action figures around with me forever. You can’t just throw out an Andre the Giant action figure without trying hard to find it a good home. So for now I guess I have to keep my soul. I have to continue being angry, petty, sad, angry, frustrated, disappointed, angry, lonely, angry, angry, and thirsty. I’m only thirsty because right before I wrote this up I ate an entire block of cheese. At least I felt satisfied for a few minute.

What would you sell your soul for? Don’t say an evening with me. I already know that to be true.

What’s the greatest thing about white males? Is it how dominant we are? How everything except for peanut butter and the film Juno were invented by us? Really, white males are the undisputed champions of people. Yeah we die a lot and we’re kind of pricks. Remember though, God is a white male. It’s only natural that we are so incredibly awesome.

(This is what it looks like to me any time a group of white men are together. Except for maybe Dean Cain. He looks kind of Spanish here)

For some of you, this opening paragraph may have offended. Here are the people I think it may have offended most. First and foremost, women. Women are pretty easy to offend. All you have to do is make them feel less superior. A simple way to do that is quoting any textbook before 1965. Secondly, non-white people. Non-white people are offended by things because they aren’t always identified by a color or a made up word like Caucasian. At least calling someone African or Asian lets you know where they’re from. There’s not place called Caucasia. If it did exist that would be quite a paradise. A place with only white people? I’d probably have at least one home run record if I lived there. The only other group of people whom may have been offended were those that believe God isn’t a white guy. I mean come on. How ridiculous is that? He clearly is. Look at the Sistine Chapel. God clearly looks like a Frenchman.

 (“Oui Oui” – Ted 11:83. I can’t believe this image hangs on the top of a church)

I don’t like to offend people. Well, I do, but I don’t. I like to offend people to the point where their opinion sways. I hate to offend people and then get into an argument with them. I’m not a confrontational person. I hate having thick lips puttering in front of my face telling me I’m wrong. That’s why I usually keep my opinions to myself. Except on this blog. If I really don’t like you I can always block you or point out how lame you are for getting mad about something you read on the Internet.

I’m not a fan of people who are easily offended. I understand certain things should offend people. I can’t think of an example, but I’m sure it’s out there. And there’s a difference between being “offended” and actually hating someone’s actions. Someone doing something evil isn’t offensive, it’s just a bastard-move. So don’t say a murderer offends you. Say he’s someone who does bastard-moves and you’re quite displeased with it.

 (Amanda Knox, bastard-movist. No way this sweet face is guilty)

If you’re reading this, chances are not much offends you. I know my readers, they’re pretty tame on that scale. But I’m sure one lame ass is here. Possibly looking for pictures of tennis players or something else stupid. For you, easily offended douche, I want to help you get over your childish need to feel your heart sink whenever something hits a nerve. Here is a quick guide on how to stop being such a pussy.

Stop being important! That’s the first thing you need to do. Realize that your problems aren’t the most important ones in the world. Anyone who is easily offended is full of themselves. They think the issues they care about should be the most dominant ones in the hearts of the rest of us. And what makes an issue important to someone? It affects them. It’s simple, people only care about issues that involve them. You think I really care about gay marriage, affirmative action, or the music program at the local high school? I don’t. Not one bit. I’m never marrying a guy, have even less of a chance of being black, and if I ever join a high school musical class chances are I’m a gay black person already.

Things that offend people are always jokes. Nobody gets offended by a movie about a particular sensitive subject, but a joke about it will offend. Because not everyone takes their issue/problem as seriously as they do, they try to make the rest of us the bad guys. “You can’t make fun of that! That happened to me!” Shut your face. I never got being offended by something somebody else said. Why not fight back? It’s such a coward move to cringe and stick your chin up then say “That’s offensive.” Yes, and? Stop being a wimp before someone hits you in your high and mighty moral jaw.

(The way all easily offended people should turn out)

Now I doubt anyone reading this, whether it be true or not, thinks they are easily offended. Nobody would admit to that. That’s why the phrase “I love to laugh, but–” exists. Truth is, most people have horrible senses of humor. What makes a person have a bad sense of humor? Being offended by a joke ever. It’s one thing to feel uncomfortable or to acknowledge how much it stunk, but really be truly offended the same way you would feel if someone hurt you deeply is silly.

I guess my point through this whole “rant” was to hopefully get one person to read this and think “Hey, I am a big baby. I need to stop only caring about my own agenda and let other people do what they want.” I think I missed the mark though. It’s like I was playing darts in the bar and instead of hitting the board I put the dart into the nutsack of the bartender standing 10 feet behind me. Anyway, keep not being offended. Creative people usually aren’t. So if you’re offended easily, you’re not creative. Stop making shitty flute music and photography.

What offends you? The only thing that offends me are people who are oblivious to how much they suck. And don’t worry, I am aware of my suck factor.

I am getting old. Yes, 24 isn’t that old. It feels it though. There are people on MTV dating shows 6 years younger than me. I was already getting picked on in first grade when these people were popping out of their mothers. 18-year-old girls are almost off-limits for me. It’s getting to a point where I’m creepy to them. It happened so fast too. I remember when I was 20 and 18-year-olds thought I was the man. They assumed I had my shit together and that made me cool in their high school eyes. I still don’t have my shit together and I’m worrying that people are about to notice. I can only hide for so long that I haven’t achieved a single thing in life worth bragging about.

(Gia is worth bragging about. Gia’s mother’s life is empty though. She hasn’t achieved much that she has to brag that Gia can count backwards quickly)

The idea that the thought of “21-year-olds are so disrespectful. When I was that age I was nicer to older people. I showed them respect” popped into my head recently scares me. When I was that age? When I was that age nothing in the world was different. That was barely 3 years ago. Still, I believe it to be true. 21-year-olds aren’t nearly as polite to me as I was to 24-year-olds when I was that age. They’re standoffish and cocky. They don’t come to me for advice or think of me as their older brother. No. Instead they’re too busy getting girls that I should be getting. Stupid 21-year-olds. You shouldn’t have all this figured out yet!

It’s safe to say that all 21-year-olds are pretty damn stupid. I can say that. I was 21 at one point. An entire year! Everything I did was stupid. Do you know how I got less stupid? I listened to what older people had to say. Without knowing it, they helped guide me into the confused 24-year-old I am right now. I would be even more lost in the world if it wasn’t for their semi-help. The problem with people who are 21 is that they’re far away enough from living under the tyranny of high school but also haven’t really lived in the real world. Yes, it’s annoying to have to call the power company. It’s part of growing up. I am always being called sir. I hate when cute girls do it. It makes me feel like I could be their father. Making me think that makes me think about time travel then I get nervous. What if she is my daughter? She traveled back in time to meet me then tried offering me a free water bottle if I signed up for some stupid contest.

If you’re 21 and reading this, you’re probably furious. I know, I know. You’ve got it all handled. May I suggest though that you print this out and put it in a time capsule? Open it in 3 years and realize how little things still make sense. Sure, you’ll be a little smarter and wiser. You’ll also probably hate the newest drinkers at the bars. It’s always easy to hate people younger than you. Especially when they’re 21. Nobody at 21 accomplishes a thing. All you do is drink and try to convince yourself that the meaning of life is moments away from entering your brain. Sorry, but it’s not. You’re in for a whole hell lot more of confusion and frustration. Welcome to the rest of your life, slowly watching your body decay.

(Sid Vicious has being 21 all figured out. He managed to kill himself before reaching 22)

I’m never a good example for anything. I’m too nice of a person. My dad’s old password for AOL was “timisgoo” which was supposed to be “tim is good” but he insisted that the “d” would go over the 16 character password limit. I was such a good kid that being good was what my dad associated with me above all else. I always show respect to others. I hold doors, once helped a woman move a carpet, and never over stay my welcome. I’ve only pinched one girl’s butt and she didn’t even notice. She was a descendant of Winston Churchill’s, you kinda-gotta pinch it. That’s why I don’t blame anyone who is 21 for being such a cock. I’m so incredibly good that by comparison, everyone seems like a disrespectful ass.

This is all I want from 21-year-olds. Don’t be loud. That simple. Don’t be so incredibly loud and invasive that I notice you. You can be as mean and rude as you want. You’re young and can get away with it. But don’t be loud. Give my ears a break from you. Destroy the rest of my senses as much as you would like. Have gross offensive to the eyes hair, don’t bathe frequent enough where I can smell it, and touch me inappropriately. I don’t know how one would go about invading my taste buds. I think I have tasted a 21-year-old at one point and I don’t remember them ever tasting badly. She was quite rude though. She told me that I kissed too fast and to keep my hat on. Picky! Picky!

(The only thing from 1991 worth acknowledging)