Old School

Whilst juggling various websites and snooping through pictures of friends' facebook profiles, I somehow stumbled upon my olde Myspace profile. Myspace - does anyone use that shit anymore?
I found plenty of old photos, coupled with old blogs. Blogs that I wrote over three years ago. It's always fun to see what kind of retarded shit I wrote in the past.
Here are a few highlights from blogs from the past.

This was a blog I posted about my 'Pitt' - a giant hole in the ground I would create, were I king of the world, for criminals, ugly people and fat people:

So then you bring up your pathetic peasant comment or concern. You say "The people of the land are in turmoil, m'Lord. We need more food – the dragon continues to steal it all!"

Or some such nonsense. Always with turmoil you peasant people! It sickens me.

So ultimately you get nowhere with me and near the end of the conversation I say "PITT!" and point to you. That spells trouble. Let me explain the 'Pitt'. If I were King, and in this instance, I am…I would dig a hole. A giant fucking hole – millions of feet deep and millions of feet wide. I would call it the "PITT" and Christopher Walken would monitor it for me. Any law-breaker, rapist, murderer, thief, person that pisses me off, retarded person, handicapped person, ugly person, fat person, ex-girlfriend etc. would go in the Pitt.

At a certain point in everyone's life they would have to interview me to see if they belong in the Pitt. I would ask some standard questions. Like "You're ugly go in the Pitt" or "You're a fucking waste of life go in the Pitt". And I would call it all "Adamism" – survival of the non-Pittish. I would throw them all in the Pitt and they would attempt to survive in the muddy, wet and foodless terrain of the Pitt. Or dry…I haven't quite decided yet. And sometimes when I get mad I'd have Christopher Walken drop scorpions in there. And I'd ask him here and there – Hey Chris, how's the Pitt? And he'd say "It's…glorious….I'd like to drop…some scorpions – can I do that?" And I'd say hell yeah, Christopher Walken. Hell yeah.

Here is a small list of people that belong in the pitt:

Tom Cruise

Paris Hilton

Hal Gill

Foo – (Ryan's Cat)

Hinder

My Chemical Romance

Anyone I don't like.

Anyone my friends don't like.

My girlfriend's ex's.

Ashton Kutcher

And any guy my girlfriend finds attractive other than me. I.E. Richard Gere would go into the Pitt.


Even in previous years, I was writing blogs about zombies:
I think it's time we all accepted the truth. Eventually, there is one thing that all of us in this world have to face and deal with, and it's coming soon. It's going to be frightening…challenging and dangerous. Many of us will perish and it could even mean the end of an entire species – the human race. Yes, an epic scale. This one thing that I speak of will test the very wits of humanity. It's coming soon, and I truly believe it's about time we started preparing for this onslaught now. I'm talking about zombies. Yeah – the living dead. They feed on your flesh, there's a lot of them and when you die you become one. Do you really want to become a zombie? No. And the worst part of all is, you can't communicate with them…cuz they won't listen. You'll say "Stop eating my flesh, it hurts." And they'll say…..nothing. They'll just keep doing it – indicating that they are either non-coherent or just jerks. Cuz who hears you say "Stop eating my flesh, it hurts" and keeps doing it? Jerks. That's who. Jerks.


My thoughts on Hinder's 'Lips of an Angel':

There is an experience that we've all had in our lives that really helps us define who we are and what we like. I'm talking about hearing the very first song that makes your insides attempt to escape your body – away from the foul sound that drives you to clog your ears with acid and death. That song, for me, was (looks around hoping no one hears him say it) Lips of an Angel by Hinder.

SSSSHHHHHHHHHHHHH!!!

Yes, absolutely horrid song. The lyrics – if you can call that desperate, decrepit word vomit lyrics…are like the sound of impending doom. Like the sound of your executioner throwing the switch to your electric chair, or the sound of a dentist's high-pitched squealing drill as it grinds through the teeth and jaw of the unfortunate client paying for his attention.

And for those of you who are reading this and thinking "Lipth of an Angel ith a good thong, Adam. You thon of a bitch. No wonder no one liketh you and you have to pay your friendth to thtay your friendth and you thtink and you're ugly."…

Rinse your fucking ears out with some goddamn Clorox or something, cuz it's obviously not Lips of an Angel you're hearing. If it were, you would be stabbing yourself with whatever sharp object you can get your hands on.


My first experience with the 'Retard Sandwich':

So I'm driving along the QEW…blaring a bit of LL Cool J on my deck (Rub my back, rub my back, rub my back, rub my back – OH!) and tapping my mitt against the steering wheel to the beat. Clearly – I'm in the zone. I'm in the "on the way home from a long, hard day of pleasing idiots and covering fuck ups" zone. I'm in the passing lane – and I know a lot of you out there (Especially anyone from Thunder Bay) can't quite grasp the concept of the passing lane (That's the lane furthest to the left) and I remember chatting with the ex about this – and we both agreed that northerners don't really comprehend that the lane on the far left is for people who are going fast. Er, sorry faster than you. And when you see them gaining speed on your ass, you should boot it out of the way – you should vacate that lane – and leave those who are hell-bent on speed and quickness run free in what I like to call the "jungle lane" cuz people go wild on it. There are two lanes. Utilize them. For the love of God. Utilize them.

Anyways – cruising along at high speeds, blaring the tunes, in the zone when low and behold – completely unbeknownst to me, the guy beside me starts entering my lane. Just wants to pay me a little visit it seems, he starts what I like to refer to as a "lane ambush". When someone encroaches you in your lane – you're getting lane ambushed, my friends. I suddenly am forced to do un-earthly tactical defensive moves to avoid colliding with Captain Ambush over here. I'm suddenly on the shoulder…I'm smashing my horn and I'm upset. I am fearing for my life. I look over and some old man is returning my gaze – and he fires a "oops, I did it again" Britney Spears sort of look at me. And the anger washes over me like a nice, warm morning shower. Except this particular shower was wrought in turmoil. My turmoil. I have been sabotaged my friends, lane ambushed, as it were. I gather myself, return to said lane and feel the need for vengeance. I am now much like a predator – except I shall kill no one. I will not stoop to Captain Ambush's level. I yank over to the right lane, speed up beside him and prepare for a mighty fingering (no comments, please). I glance over, and this old man is…he's…as if he's sneaking food from under his desk in class…he's eating something…but he's trying real hard to hide it from any and all onlookers.

But by golly…I know what he's eating.

It's a goddamn retard sandwich. He is eating a sandwich…full of retard.


Finally...my personal thoughts on Nicholas Cage:
I don't know who the genius was that decided to put Nicholas Cage in front of a camera, but may his soul burn in hell eternal. Nicholas Cage is a monotonous, clueless wannabe southerner who looks like he got hit in the back of the head with a shovel a few too many times.
Now I can't possibly point out every flaw that Nicholas Cage possesses. It's as if whatever higher power in this galaxy, when creating life on earth, required a dumpster for all the incomprehensible garbage that spewed out of creation, looked upon Nicholas Cage and said "Giddy up!" Yes, I am saying that Nicholas Cage is the dumpster of human kind.
First of all, the guy looks like his head is about to explode. His bulging eyes and lurching neck…he belongs in a cheap Transylvanian horror flick with fangs and a cape. I.E. he's ugly. Don't let the receding hair line fool you, his hair is actually running from his face, like deer run from a predator.
Secondly, how can anyone take him seriously? I was watching The Rock and when Nicholas Cage came on I realized it was a comedy, and I laughed and laughed…this guy's voice is like listening to your grandparents have sex…how can you not laugh?
Finally – he WANTS to be a southerner??? Who WANTS to be a southerner??? What kind of retard goes out looking for a type of person that somehow sounds STUPIDER than he does and then…imitates them?