GPOYM 6-21-10

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“First thing in the morning, snapped in the bathroom mirror with no pants and a leaf pasted over your junk” edition.

As an aside, I’d like to point out that when you’re photo-pasting a leaf over your dick, and you have to keep increasing the size of the leaf to cover all your stuff, well, you feel pretty good about yourself.

The "I Own This" Game

It’s pretty simple.

Take a photo of yourself holding a movie, cd, book, or other piece of pop-culture that you own, and that you know is terrible.  No cheating with ironic Journey albums.  This must be something that you genuinely thought was or would be good at the moment that you bought it.  An explanation of why you bought the offending object is appreciated but not required.

Tag with “I own this” and embarrass yourself in front of the world.

As for me:

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I saw it in theaters and got all caught up in the Samuel L. Jackson-ness of the whole thing.  Watched it twice on DVD after purchase and realized what a crap movie it is.  For some reason, it’s still in my collection, shaming me every time somebody looks over my movies.

Fathers haven’t really worked out for me.  My actual one was divorced from my mother when I was very young, and has never been anybody but the guy I had to visit sometimes as a child.  I’ve always called him “Paul,” never “Dad”, and his greatest contribution to my life is probably producing the half-brother who would eventually fuck me over and contribute to my overall cynicism in regards to family, love, and fidelity.  I don’t talk to him, because quite honestly we have nothing to talk about.  I possess no photos of him and wouldn’t even know how to go about getting any.

My stepfather (Mark I) was an infantile motherfucker who cheated on my mother serially.  He was ignorant, emotionally abusive, selfish, and far and away the most reprehensible human being I’ve ever been unfortunate to live with.  I have dim yet undeniable memories of SOMEBODY sexually abusing me in my wee youth, and though I will never have enough evidence to support a conclusive accusation, ask yourself who would have had 24-hour access to little me.  Regardless, it was no fucking picnic being a child in this man’s household.

My current stepfather is a good guy.  He’s nice to my mother.  I like him a lot, though I will never feel comfortable calling him “dad”.  My mother insists that I call him on Father’s Day, and it always feels weird.  Like, really weird.  Shouldn’t I be the one with the say in who I choose to wish a Happy Father’s Day to?

So, in honor of the day, I’m just going to post a picture of GHOST DAD, ‘cause, you know, fuck it.

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Does He Make You Horny?

I was fucking around with Google Images, as I frequently do, and I wanted to get an idea what turned Google on.  So I typed in the phrase “boner inspiration”.

I received this:

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I’m not a conspiracy theorist or anything, but let me just say this: the fact that Google is sexually aroused by the image of the man who inspired Count Dracula doesn’t surprise me one little fucking bit.

So...Rape

I tweeted this just a few minutes ago:

Sexual assault is only funny when it’s perpetrated via Twitter.

It was inspired by the fact that I had just threatened to ejaculate on the face of a fellow Twitterer, and her response was to laugh and thank me.  People are constantly threatening to rape each other on Twitter (although frequently via less direct language), and I find it strange that it’s all taken in stride as “web-talk”, when such activity would never be advocated in nearly any other social setting.  A few minutes later, I received this reply:

Fuck you. Sexual assault is never funny

I don’t know the person who sent it very well, and since it was a public reply and not a private message I have no idea how to take this.  Is somebody genuinely offended, or is somebody just playing me in the way that people do on Twitter?  I don’t know, and really, I don’t much care.  I’m secure in what I said being okay, and as I’ve written a few times before in other situations, I really don’t think that any subject is taboo as a source of comedy, as long as said comedy is being approached smartly.

Still, though, I feel like I have to say something here, because this probably isn’t the last rape joke I’m going to make, and surely not the last time I’ll offend somebody with one.

Nearly every woman I have ever cared for in my life has been a victim of some sort of sexual violation.  I may very possibly have suffered the same as a child (memories are hazy, and have not been pursued).  So, yes, I am entirely aware of the destructive effects of sexual assault.  I sometimes joke about rape for the same reason that black people can call each other niggers, and if you don’t like that, I’m sorry.  Just don’t assume that I don’t know what I’m talking about, or that my life has never been touched by that singular tragedy, because it has.

So get off my fucking back, and at least apply some lube next time.

Eat, Fuck, Nap

If you have ever shopped in a mainstream American department store, you have likely encountered the “Live, Laugh, and Love” phenomenon.  This alliterative philosophy is plastered all over clothing, photo frames, nick-knacks and posters.  The world needs a competing philosophy, which I have helpfully provided.

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You can even buy it on a tee-shirt, holy shit!  At my Spreadshirt shop here.