Go Big or Go Home

Anything I feel is worth doing should be worth going utterly overboard. Whether it’s Tough Mudders, Halloween Costumes, Homecoming Alcoholism, or college (I was an undergrad for only a decade)– if I’m going to do it, I’m taking it too far.  It’s just who I am.  Yes, I have lately shirked my passion for the written word to have an affair with my first love– tech.  Believe you me, it’s getting torrid and she’s offering to pay me to stay.

Let me pause to let the slow kids catch up with the metaphor.

There, now that we’re all on the same page (the part where my old laptop has a part time job), I decided to take a step outside my comfort zone.  I like to be solely responsible for all of my successes– and therefore my failures.  I realized my Bitcoin mining operation was not growing fast enough– or rather, I have learned all that I can at this stage.  My current hardware is earning for me, yes, but not at a rate where I can get ridiculous.  I don’t have the funds for that kind of hardware, either.  So I did something that I’m not comfortable doing– I asked for help.

Exactly why I bit the bullet… I wanna get back into the thick of life.

So I went ahead and looked at Kickstarter after hearing about the dude that cranked in over $50 grand for a $10 potato salad, and upon realizing that my “fund” is just to start a business (as opposed for public benefit)– I had to look elsewhere.  I ended up landing on GoFundMe.  I usually scoff at this sort of thing, and if I can’t do it myself– I don’t deserve it.  My pride can be a personality flaw at times.

Realizing that I will never have time to write, nor really do the things for Cortana that I want, I started off my own page.  If, by some amazingly unlikely galactic twist, this works– I’ll finally be able to put all of my talents to use.  My tech background will provide the funds to get me in a permanent writing mode–  and who knows, maybe Cortana will get her way sooner than later and I’ll bring about the apocalypse (by reproducing… it’s the 8th Sign, after all).

So, everyone, share the link wherever you may.  After all, it’s a starter for a business– and pretty much a totally revamped life.  I guess we’ll see what happens.

The mindset.

Seriously though.  Give it a click and give it a share if you can’t give it a buck.

Unplug.

 

Overhauled.

No, I’m not fucking dead.  I’ve been otherwise occupied (read: lazy when I’m not busy).

That’s about as much of an apology that’s gonna come out of me this time, especially since there’s a title up there that suggests I’m up to something.  That title would be correct, since I spend more time here ranting than I do mocking the fact that I’m frequently gimpified.  Right about now, I’m betting that you just noticed the header title’s changed to match the URL.  Good job.

Most self-imported assjacks would probably write out their manifesto here, like their readership actually gives a fuck about that self-aggrandizing introspective bullshit.  Isn’t that right?  The sad part is, most reader-bases feel tritely entitled to that kind of pompous asshattery because it gives them the feels.  I’m a goddamn narcissist at heart, so I guess it’s safe to venture that I’m not the kind of guy who indulges such desires either.  Right?  Right.

But anyway.

 

Speaking of deal with it, am I surrounded by a culture that wants nothing more than to be a goddamn victim?  Seriously, when did it suddenly become the “it” thing?  Lemme wrap this into a nutshell, and it comes down to a single term that I loathe in ways that Erida couldn’t fathom: trigger.

I’m not talking about the decisive part of a gun.
Nor the decisive part of a boobytrap.
Nor the name of the Lone Ranger’s fucking horse.
Yeah, now you see where I’m going with this.

Some people are exposed to horrible situations that cause them to develop medically-diagnosed psychological conditions– and then there are self-diagnosed attention whores that use their Google-fu to justify not being able to handle life like a mature adult.  Oh yes, I’m talking about those triggers– and the fist raised SJW trash that enables them.

What the fuck is wrong with just outright admitting that someone pissed you off?  Oh, I know, because as a victim– you can never be responsible for what you say and do in retaliation.  If something, or someone, in life or online, pisses me off…  well I have this miraculous quality that helps me handle whatever comes my way.  What’s that quality, you say?  Self fucking respect.

Awwwwwwww, let’s all rally around.

If I make like a chimp and rip someone’s face off (verbally, obviously), I just might face a scary thing called consequences.  We can’t have those, can we?  Fuck no, we’re victims here, right?  Someone that plays that passive-aggressive “trigger” card, and they suddenly get carte blanche to be a carton of butthurt douche that must be catered to.  It’s not hard to see the allure, and I’m willing to bet the vast majority of people that play this card have a Google diagnosis– and haven’t set foot in a doctor’s office.  If they have, it’s leveraging an old diagnosis that they haven’t been treated for in years.  You know, because that’s how it just is.

Yeah.  I went there.

If you’re under medical care, hey– I’m truly sorry for the fucked up things that happened in your life.  I’m completely serious.
As for the rest of you?

You’re the worst kind of human being.  You hide behind a self-diagnosis (read: lie) so that others will blindly defend you for being a maladjusted attention whore.  Instead of creating a support network for legit victims– you’ve made it vogue to wave that flag (and spat in their faces in the process.)  Everyone has to have a trigger now, and everyone has to cater around yours.  What’s worse is that some of these delusional wastes are smart enough to exploit the right doctors into continually lending legitimacy to their failure at life.

Fuck you and admit the truth when it happens:  you get pissed off.  For once in your life, own your stance as yours and handle it– and whatever fallout you may cause later.  You just might find that living life like you want it is more satisfying than convincing yourself you regret it.

Offended? Good. Admit it and act on it, don’t just whine like a feckless douchenozzle.

That overhaul I was talking about?  Yeah.  It’s more than just a name and style change.  I’m just going to let my voice go where it will, and stop trying to maintain a modicum of decorum.  I was starting to feel too antiseptic to be genuine.

Unplug.

A note on bullying…

There’s a little trend that’s been on the rise for the past year or so—a cry to end bullying.  Although this is a noble sentiment, you’d have better luck trying to root the self-serving assholery out of the US Government.  Why?  Because kids are pricks, plain and simple.  We’re not just talking run-of-the-mill pricks, we’re talking Lex Steele sized dicks hopped up on Viagra.

This topic is one I hold contemptuously dear, because even though I’ve always been a legend in my own mind— I didn’t always have the reputation.  In fact, I can probably attribute a lot of who I am today to the fact that I was bullied like a bitch for the majority of my grade school years.

Pic related.

So boo-hoo, you’re gay and morons make fun of you for it?  Newsflash, there are many serious laws that protect you—which means there are very real consequences for assholes being shitty to you.  Hang on, that didn’t come out right.  Actually… yeah it did.  Anyway, try being the runt.  I walked into high school a towering 5’2” at a scale-smashing 90lbs.  That’s right, ladies and gents, I redefined the term “easy target” just by my laughable stature alone.  Now throw a geek complex on top of it, with a fat dash of sci-fi loving nerdery.

Maybe I should put my youth in perspective that you bleeding hearts can appreciate.  The only way I could get my ass kicked on that level now would be to walk into a feminist rally and scream, “Why don’t I see anyone making sandwiches?!”

Telling a teacher is more pointless than trying to report a jaywalker to the police.  Case and point: a teacher of mine in 8^th grade had the stones to tell me, “I’m tired of dealing with this.”  She later went on to have a career in county government as an elected official.  Yes, I kept this vague because she’s a socially-impressed bitch who was laughable at her job to begin with (which explains the election)—and I wouldn’t put it past her to seek legal counsel in the unlikely chance she read this.

By the way, if you are reading this, I hope whatever genetic party favors that pop out of your vag ironically end up treated like you did me.

Mind you, there are two distinct connotations for “a bitch.” Karma is the mean-spirited one and doesn’t care which one YOU are.

You see, teachers can only fill in so far where parenting falls short.  Bullies primarily come from two kinds of households.  Either they’re a flea’s nuts above pond scum, without any sort of parenting besides providing a roof over the head—or they’re the polar opposite and utterly spoiled brats.  The result is the same: the little shithead receives no consequences for being a maladjusted dickwaffle.  In the case of the latter, the parents will defend their little angel because—Newsflash!—there’s no way their kid would be held responsible.  That and kids are fucking devious little pricks and are pretty adept at hiding their douchebaggery.

Moral of the story:  kids are assholes, and sharing some fecklessly trite image on facebook (or a hashtag on twitter) does nothing.  There’s only so much a teacher can do without a parent reinforcing it—and that “so much” is limited to the four walls of a classroom, and in some cases not even that.

Case and point.

So, what can you do?  One, teach your kid to blend in—and no I’m not saying destroy their individuality.  It’s a learned skill, observing social interactions and perceived pecking order—and learn how to blend in and/or exploit behaviors observed.  Seriously, you don’t think I can seamlessly go from the opera to a metal show just because I’m a natural chameleon, do you?  No, I learned how to hide in plain sight because I had to.  This skill only mitigates the frequency/ferocity of the torment, and guarantees the kid can be whoever they want to be once they’re out of the system.

Also, don’t underestimate the impact of violence on a kid’s mind.  That’s right, I’m telling you to teach your kid to fight back—or manipulate a bigger bully to kick their tormentor’s ass (choosing your battles falls into the chameleon role, as you do not want them to start fights.)  Sometimes the promise of immediate retribution is an excellent deterrent to degenerates that don’t get the hint.  Example:  my sister was getting flak from some kids, and insulting my mother.  These kids, though younger than I, were a lot bigger.  Needless to say, I’d never been in a fight in my life—but after three epic minutes on the playground…  I got some relief from the bullies who were messing with me.  Why?  Because they saw me walk up a stream of punches (I have no idea how many, I just know I got hit a lot) and then put the little bastard on his ass with four shots to the mouth.  When his buddy (as bullies often have a subordinate, or a group) rushed to tackle me, I sidestepped him and stopped his skull with a right.  His body kept going, and he landed flat on the ground.  Moral of the story?  Three minutes of glory and two publicly weeping douches later, there was relief.  That’s right, fuck the common wisdom—sometimes violence is the answer.  This is especially true when dealing with immature minds that are bent on making your life miserable (therefore not caring about reason or words, I tried those.)

I haven’t been in a fight since, and considering my physical stature now—I almost pity anyone who releases that same bottomless pit of wrath 20 years later.

I wish I had those abs.

So, like parenting can quell a bully—parenting can also help the kid not self-destruct.  That’s right, not all bulling victims kill themselves or go find a gun and go for the high score.  It’s called growing up, which is apparently a lost art form.  Do I wish I didn’t go through years of bullshit?  Yup.  Did it suck?  Yup.  Did I survive?  Yup.  Does it matter to me now?  Nope.  In fact, I’m pretty fucking awesome.

That’s another thing—once you’re out of the situation, it’s over (also, learn how to use the fucking block button.  Seriously, people, learn to internet.)  If you carry their shit with you, that reflects on your lack of character—not the assjacks that caused you grief.   That’s the best part about the past: it’s over.

So, here’s the short, short version for you people with ADD.

1. Teach your kid to think like a spy.  Blend in, don’t draw attention to yourself, figure out how things work, and exploit it for your safety and advantage.  Awesome life skill here.
2. Teach your kid to fight back.  Seriously, if you have a runt—get them some fucking martial arts lessons.  At least teach them about small digit manipulation.  Don’t swing first—swing last.
3. Not all bullied kids kill people (themselves or otherwise).
4. All the hashtags and digital memorials in the world won’t do shit to stop bullying.  It’s called parental responsibility. This also means if your kid is a little predator– don’t have more kids because you are the fuckstick that’s behind the problem.
5. Kids are assholes, and they will always be assholes when they think nobody’s looking.

That about cover it?
Yeah.  It does.

 Unplug.

Special thanks to WhoreBot…

It’s no secret that WordPress allows me to see what search engines, and more specifically which searches, lead wayward surfers to my corner of madness.  Thanks to these stats, I’ve found a useful purpose for the FlirtChat bot– generating gratuitous traffic.  No freaking joke, I get more hits (probably from other digital floozies looking for tips) thanks to my tales of WhoreBot’s feeble attempts to give my computer digital AIDS.  Granted, such enticements of private camera boobies work on society’s more intelligent miscarriages; otherwise– who’d waste their time programming a digital skank with less personality than a lobotomy patient?  (Answer:  nobody)

Seriously, if you aren’t able to garner female affections– isn’t that what porn’s for?  Moreover, why would you trust these kinds of enticements via MSN and other chat programs?  You know what?  I’m not going to try speculating further; I might get some of the stupid on me.  Digression aside, the “recording” of WhoreBot is doing an arguably better job directing random traffic my way than she is spreading her binary herpegonnasyphilaids.

“Obviously I need floozies! Let’s roll!”

So, ready for the punchline?  I appear to be getting more automated hits than I am actual readers (I can’t seriously be getting this much legitimate traffic from Malaysia and Indonesia).  It might be different if WordPress actually fixed the pervasive topic tag issue (instead of compulsively locking every damn support query about the issue), but hey– what can I ask for?  At least I have a few dozen loyal readers, and I’ve got WhoreBot doing work to keep the eg0-feeding hits rolling in.

The Rock may have millions and millions…  but like Mick Foley, I’ve got dozens and dozens.

Everyone’s gotta start somewhere, and I’ll take it.
Now if only Cracked would get off their asses and publish what they already paid for.

Unplug.

This is why we can’t have nice things…

I’ve lamented to no end the endless ways computer/software manufacturers make their products more user-friendly and easy-to-use.  Easy to use means more accessible to people who’s parents could be potentially related.  Thanks to letting the stupid onto the net, everything’s slowly going to shit.  Viruses and malware are spread far more easily by idiots than they are by hackers.  Newsflash, my loyal literati, hackers (by and large) can’t be bothered to pay attention to the average schmo– because it’s just not worth their time.

Because of idiots, every half-assed photoshop job claiming Bill Gates is going to give $5000 for every share on facebook goes viral (a rebirth of the same email forwarding chain from back in the day).  Thanks to idiots, people still think some dead girl named Carmen is going to crawl out of the sewer and kill them if they don’t share the brainlessly-constructed anti-bullying picture (and fake story).

…. or share it on the internet for all to see.  Yes, I’m talking about you.

Sure, once in awhile, some of us fall victim to a clever troll– like around that $500 million Powerball jackpot where people were posting pictures of their tickets.  You know it’s stupid (even when drunk), but that itchy clicky finger can’t help itself.  Then there are some of you who over-share any ass-backwards retarded thing they stumble over under the auspices of “can’t hurt.”

“Can’t hurt” isn’t a plenary indulgence for being a blatant moron.
“Can’t hurt” is internet for “just the tip,” except nobody is enjoying it.
Sidebar– I’m sure some of you did fall for the “just the tip” line and got some “interest on the deposit,” but that’s another joke entirely.

People like you, the ones who don’t think before they click, that make social media a wasteland devoid of any sort of intelligence beyond cat memes.  Then again, it’s socially acceptable to be stupid these days, ain’t it?  (No, but then again, I’d be a bully if I said otherwise.)  You’d swear it was a biological mandate.

… by the way, I understand that adding aspartame to bleach neutralizes the harmful effects of both… and tastes like a gin and tonic, and leaves your breath super fresh. You should try it.

Oh, and by the way– I’m also staring right at the “social activists” who think sharing is a way to prove you’re a conscientious citizen of the planet.  No, dipshit, you spent less than a tenth of a calorie clicking on something– you didn’t do a goddamn thing.

So yes, I will continue to share my dinner online– because at least that took some creativity, effort, and thought.  It’s a hell of a lot more useful than posturing as a social activist when all you do is sit on your ass behind a keyboard and pretend to be better than everyone else.

I’m not sure which is worse, the cancer known as stupid– or it’s cosmetic-slathered cousin, the wannabe-activist that doesn’t actually do shit besides click, share, and make-believe.

Unplug.

At least this one had some variation!

Holy crap, apparently Whorebot got upgraded to 2.0!   I hopped onto MSN, minding my little lonesome (even if I was planning to troll a few buddies of mine), and I noticed a name that was quite unfamiliar:  Gabriella Godwin.  Of course, I looked at the email address and suddenly put two and two together– yet another long-inactive account has fallen victim to the lascivious wiles of digital AIDS.

Except this one was smarter.  Either Skynet is about to go online, or the Machines are about to rise…  Anyway, apparently just a set script isn’t good enough– or too many people had figured out that whorebot wasn’t going to show them amateur goodness for gratuitous fap time.   In fact… well shit, just read the transcripts–  because I know how much of a hit the first installment was.

gabriella godwin says:
hi

Max Entropy says:
… well holy shit, look who crawled outta the woodwork.

gabriella godwin says:
sup handsome, how r u?

Max Entropy says:
Jesus f***ing Christ, it’s whorebot again.

gabriella godwin says:
what’s a bot??

Max Entropy says:
an automated chat program for those… heyyyy wait a second.

gabriella godwin says:
haha! i am not! i like raindrops and bubblegum at bedtime…. would an automated system say that?

Max Entropy says:
*shifty eyes*

gabriella godwin says:
well im trying on underwear, u sound cute lets have some fun..

Max Entropy says:
……. you’ve learned new tricks I see.

gabriella godwin says:
my video cam is turned on.. . wanna take a look? Ill show ya but dont tell any one, ok?

Max Entropy says:
— the last time we talked (YEARS ago)… you were a GUY.

gabriella godwin says:
im going to give you a flirtcam invite, all ya have to do is Accept, ill show you

Max Entropy says:
nope. die in a fire, whorebot.

gabriella godwin says:
uggh no i’m not are u???? lolz

Max Entropy says:
So the name Talos[part of the compromised email address] means NOTHING to you.

gabriella godwin says:
Jenny

Max Entropy says:
Who’s Jenny.

gabriella godwin says:
im almost naked right now, my nipples are so tiny

Max Entropy says:
Someone gave you a new chat algorithm… this could be entertaining.
so how do you know me? Let’s try that one on for size.

gabriella godwin says:
its 100% free, it is just for age verification reasons.. keeps the young ones out.

Max Entropy says:
You can’t have a 10″ dong and be under 18. QFT.
[extended pause]
Awww, get to the bottom of your canned responses?

gabriella godwin says:
Ok, now you really lost me?? bot???

Max Entropy says:
This isn’t you.

gabriella godwin says:
ok once you are in my cam room go 2 private with me so we can talk just me n u

Max Entropy says:
That’s what we’re doing right now.
Heh. you fail again, whorebot. Consider yourself reported. AGAIN.

As you can see, I was momentarily caught off guard– but I’m not some desperate neckbeard.   I know where to get my giggity.  Getting solicited by a script kiddie‘s wet dream isn’t going to even give me a semi, let alone a stupidity-inducing boner.  It’s just too bad I’m too out of practice to DDoS the living shit out of that synthetic slut.

Yeah, I’m about a decade out of practice, but dammit– I miss the days of dropping email bombs that hit harder than a cold war nuke. The days where DoS’ing was a form of payback– not stopped by filters in the digital ether. Damn it. Damn it all to Hell.

If I’ve said it before, I’ll say it again: don’t click on stupid shit, boys and girls.  Best to be thought an idiot, than to have some digital floozie running around actively proving it to people you know.

Unplug.

Damn, where’s Bender when you need him?

Some of you may recall a couple months ago when I got propositioned by Whorebot, an automated program trying to give my computer digital AIDS.  Well, just for shenanigans sake, I decided to leave my MSN up and running– just to see if it would try again, after not tracking a single hit.  To my diabolical joy, here’s the transcript of the second attempt by the ol’ robo-hooker to try and slip my laptop the clap without so much as the courtesy of a reach-around.

Behold the amalgamation of fail that probably worked on the stereotypical basement-dweller.

Hot Stuff says
hey baby

Max Entropy says
Jesus christ, you again?

Hot Stuff says
A/S/L?

Max Entropy says
Too young for you/yes please/back seat of a cop car

Hot Stuff says
I’m 23/F/FL

Max Entropy says
Damn, not interested. I only like canadian teddy bears.

Hot Stuff says
Do you like to get naughty?

Max Entropy says
If you mean get chased around by nuns with yardsticks, yeah.

Hot Stuff says
thats me in the picture.. i wanna give u a present on webcam im really wet right now and want to do this quick with u

Max Entropy says
Meh. I’ve seen better. Let’s be honest– if you don’t think you can handle a mexican donkey show, you don’t want to tackle my moneymaker.

Hot Stuff says
k go to http://stilltryingtoportrapeyour.box and youll see me warming up for u…. click “accept invite” on the left and once u join & see me we can start to play

Max Entropy says
Listen, whorebot, this didn’t work last time– don’t you keep a log of people who don’t care about the slutty coed’s barely-passable ass you have for a profile pic?

Hot Stuff says
this is how i pay my bills and i don’t f**k my customers but you are making me change my mind

Max Entropy says
You said that last time. How about you pay my bills, and then I’ll think about it. That’s really not that great of an ass. I mean, even the tramp stamp is halfassed.
You know I’m going to post your shit like last time, right?

Hot Stuff says
lol, read the fine print on that page babe..it says session is only $0.00 if a premium member invites you…I’ve been a premium member there for a long time. Trust me I know how the site works I’m a webcam freaklol..

Max Entropy says
Well, we have some deviation from the usual reply-bot text. Impressive. Your google image searched ass is still flat with a bit of cellulite, and the last time this was REALLY a viable MSN– it belonged to a guy.
You’re a freak alright.
But not interesting enough for me.

Hot Stuff says
don’t break my heart

Max Entropy says
Awwwww, but that’s the only way for me to climax.
You done, whorebot?
whorebot?

 

After this little exchange, where I was completely bombed for no particular reason, I had to put ol’ Whorebot on “invisible” because it wouldn’t leave me alone.  I mean it tried daily, and I got bored of it fast.  It didn’t even change its M.O.  I was thinking about chanting in binary to summon Bender to deal with this diseased digital floozie, but it would seem that several dozen clicks on MSN’s “report suspicious account” button was actually “effective.”

Ok, that was a total lie, so you can stop laughing.

Instead of being tracked via IP, and DDoS’ed into /null… Whorebot reinvented itself.  Instead of taking a semester off and finding a modicum of self-respect, it’s trying a whole different idiot-snagging tactic.  It calls itself “$$ Millionaire $$” because yes– if you can’t catch a dipshit with sex, you can catch them with money.  After all, if someone’s sitting at their computer and is dumb enough to fall for one of these– they’re just destined to make boatloads of money.  Right?

Open it up! Maybe you'll find boobs. Or Money. Or both? Could it be true?! Really?! Die in a fire.

Seriously people, I’ve said it before– and I’ll say it again.  Free boobs are on porn sites, free money is called welfare, and clicking on anything offering either is sheer stupidity.  Maybe I should come out of stealth mode one of these nights and see what our precious little algorithm has to say now.

It’s not like reporting a compromised account is going to do anything.  After all, how can I expect Micro$oft to investigate Whorebot?  For every one they actually snub, another five crop up thanks to the “user-friendliness” of the internet.  I believe I already handled that tidy bit of social commentary in the last installment.  Check please.

Unplug.

Wait… what?

So I’m cleaning out my old hotmail account, minding my own business, and of course– Microsoft’s invasive chat program invoked itself like an awkward case of spontaneous wood.  This isn’t anything new, but today had a little bit of something different.   Before I start going off half-cocked here (oh, my wordplay has already begun), I’m just going to cut-n-paste the full text– editing out the link, because the link was a dead giveaway for a trojan horse.  How do I know?  I’m not a freaking moron, that’s how.

This is such an clear cut case of digital dickery, of course I was trying to test the limits of the program that was trying to net-rape my laptop.  This, right here, is an example of why computers shouldn’t ever be user friendly.  Why?  Because if computers (and the internet) were as relatively intimidating to use as they were in– say– 1992– this kind of shit wouldn’t be cost-effective.  Once again, idiots have made my life worse, by making it profitable for some assjack script kiddie to generically attempt to entice me with boner bait.  Thank you, I already have a whole load of known-to-be-clean adult sites committed to my mental spank bank.  Without further adieu, read this:

Hot Stuff

on cam http://iwannagiveyourcomputerherpes.now

Hot Stuff says:

I got you now !lol was up

Max Entropy says:

wait, what?

Hot Stuff says:

don’t take this the wrong way but can i tell you a secret, it has to do with you…

Max Entropy says:

*shifty eyes*

I have the distinct feeling that I’m not talking to who I think I am.

Hot Stuff says:

are you sure?

okay.. i love u, well not really, its more like a crush and ive never even met you, ive never felt this way about anyone before its embarrassing

Max Entropy says:

That’s pretty funny, seeing how the last time we talked— several YEARS ago– you were a guy.

Hot Stuff says:

thats me in the picture.. i wanna give u a present on webcam im really wet right now and want to do this quick with u

Max Entropy says:

*facepalm* gotta love generated responses. if this is you, where did we digitally “meet”

Hot Stuff says:

in my bedroom

Max Entropy says:

Answer the question.

Hot Stuff says:

k go to http://dumbpeopleclickthis.ly and youll see me warming up for u…. click “accept invite” on the left and once u join & see me we can start to play

Max Entropy says:

Nope.

Hot Stuff says:

this is how i pay my bills and i don’t f*** my customers but you are making me change my mind

Max Entropy says:

About paying your bills by hacking other peoples’ inactive MSN accounts? I’m glad I could be of service.

Hot Stuff says:

don’t break my heart

Max Entropy says:

You’re an OCR-generated response program with a trojan horse link. I didn’t think those came standard issue with a heart.

*knock knock*

That was too easy.

You see, another dead give-away was that this email (and MSN account) was made for an online game that I haven’t played in a long time.  The tag name is, of course, my character– as well as the name of my favorite fictive creation.  Maxie’s my drinking altered ego, on top of all of this.  So, being aware that this was surely not the person that originally owned the MSN, I figured, hey— what the Hell, I’m bored, it’s time to troll.  I also rarely use this MSN except to catch a few players that I befriended years before, but being snagged out of the blue by a naked camwhore in a shower– well that was a treat for today.  More on that after the rant.

SPAM!!!!

Email spam was bad enough, but we all learned how to deal with it.  Of course, on these fine intarwebs, everywhere you look– there’s a way to end up with an email box full of spam.  We’ve all dealt with the 419 Scammers in our own way, usually by dumping them from the junk folder into terminal oblivion.  But wait, thanks to the prevalence of idiots with technology, we even get junk text messages.  If one of our “friends” is blatantly stupid enough to click the wrong link on Facebook– or anywhere else for that matter– their zombified account will spam the crap out of you with things that are so comically uncharacteristic, it’s easy to filter out for anyone with a freaking brain (I’ll get to that in a second).   Automated inundation knows no shame, to the point where I even get spam comments that luckily the folks at Akismet are adept at stopping.  Now I’m having conversations with a spam bot, only to find that its intelligence is about a flea’s nuts above pond scum.  The real killer is that people keep falling for it.

Here’s a newsflash for you slow kids out there who haven’t yet figured it out– and damn are there a lot of you out there.  You will not see what that father did when he walked in on his daughter on her webcam.  You will not see some girl’s epic boobs pop out of her top on a roller coaster.  You will not see some ghost appear in the background of a video.  You will not get free nudes from a link on a site that explicitly prohibits adult material.  You will not be able to click and win a freaking iPad, LED TV, PS3, or computer.  Don’t sign up for free smilies, you dipshit.  All you will do is slip your computer roofies, and drop it off by the local prison to get sodomized– and not to mention, give these assjacks reason to continue spamming the rest of us normal people.

If you really can’t resist these idiot traps, please let me direct your index finger (Hell, all of them, please) to the nearest blender.  I’ll be happy to click that button for you.

If that doesn't stop you from clicking on stupid shit, may I please direct you towards a syringe loaded with drain cleaner? Thanks for your cooperation, idiot.

Now, back to the camwhore treat–  I knew that the original owner of the account was a guy.  I hopped on MSN, and dropped a line to a friend of mine… we’ll call him “Lars.”  He had the genius idea to ask the bot if it wanted to see my 18″ moneymaker.  Since the bot will no longer speak to me– I left the project up to him.  Keep your eyes peeled in the comment section to see if he ever gets me the full text of that conversation (knowing him, it promises to be diabolical).

Seriously, people, I know it’s socially acceptable now to be as dumb as a box of hair– but do the rest of the world a favor.  Stay off the internet.  Stay away from technology.  Do not, under any circumstances, reproduce.

We’ll beat these spamming bastards yet– by choking out their ability to scam money.  All we need to do is make digital technology too complex for the average dipshit.  It’s just too bad that reproduction is as simple as “Insert Tab A into Slot B,” otherwise a whole shitload of world problems would just solve themselves.

In other news, I’m coming down with a cold– and inexplicably have shat nearly five pounds in about four hours.  Savor that.

Unplug.

Time for gratuitous assholery!

I have been kicked in the taint by inspiration, and believe you me– it hurt oh so good.  Before I take you on a guided tour of emotional blitzkreig, and verbal nukes, you must take two things into account.  One, I was once part of a Comedy Central-styled roast of the Greek adviser at my alma mater– those megalomaniacs invited me back as an alumni.  As a result, rumor has it that I am the only alumni to be banned from campus post-graduation.  How can they try and hold my ass to the fire when they are the ones that gave me carte blanche as to my material (type and delivery)?

I’m not hyperbolizing shit here.  For legal CYA measures, I have a copy of the entire spectacle safely locked away (and several other copies, among other “evidence”), as a legal bludgeon if they ever decide to do more than rattle their sabers.  If you can get an auditorium of bored-or-drunk undergrads rolling in the aisles— while linguistically lambasting the self-respect out of someone who has it coming to ’em (as well as the hecklers), and get the college that pissed off…  You know that somewhere– Dennis Leary shed a tear of joy.

Anyway—  back to the two things.  Two:  Check out this hilarious link of digital douchebaggery, then do the math as to the kinds of atrocities that have rolled through my brain.

If you have me added to any social media outlets, and/or are someone who likes to put up trite copy-fodder... you may wish to have your coffee before logging on in the morning... or else.

Fret not, bleeding heart, it’s not that I have a problem with you.  It’s not that I necessarily have an issue with your cause.  It’s not even that I disagree with whatever is being said.  I have an issue with copypasta, and since I’m 100% of Italian descent– I get plenty of pasta, thank you very much.  Seriously, I’m not going to try to dredge up some bullshit statistic about it–  but it’s the lazy way of showing support for a cause.  Yes, that whole fifteen seconds (and that’s with a shitty speed on the interwebs, and a case of Parkinson’s) you spent to copy and paste someone else’s freaking “awareness” or “inspirational” is really going to make as much of a difference as pissing on white phosphorous.

You know what all of this bullshit is, don’t you?  It’s the plenary indulgence for the charity guilt trip.  Seriously, of all these people (who caused the invention of the “mute” setting on Facebook), how many do you think actually give to a charity– or volunteer somewhere?  I kinda wish I had a bullshit statistic to pull right now.  Lucky for them, I don’t, but I have thousands of socially/politically/ethically questionable jokes at my disposal instead.

Now… to lie in wait.

Unplug.