I had originally written this blog entry 6 months ago, but I decided to hold off on it until I could gather some more respect and a little more dignity from it and look like a really cool guy by posting it now.
No, wait, that's right. I waited six months to post it because I am a douchebag. Also, when I say it's original, I mean it. Even though only a half of one paragraph could potentially be attributed to me and the rest would be attributed to someone else.
You see, when I set out to create this blog, this look at the world around us, I decided to do something different. I wanted to change things. I wanted to create a blog that had meaning, that had a purpose, that wasn't going to be used for the point of mocking someone openly and criticizing something so blatantly.
But...
Therein lies the problem.
I have never come out and stated what my real name is. Nor will I ever.
I have never come out and stated what my job is. Nor will I ever.
I haven't done a lot of things to prove any of this is real, but when you can read the entry by the person being mocked so vividly and realize, wow, what the hell? There's the problem.
I've stepped away from the blogging world for a little while now. I thought I was finished. I thought I had nothing to say. There is nothing worse than a happy person trying to write like a depressed and sheltered writer strictly for the purpose of selling ad-space or words.
I'm happy. It's a strange feeling to be happy. I have a lot of things that seem to be working in my favor right now and in the face of Christmas and the holidays that is a feat to behold.
And I'm not depressed. That's not the purpose of my writing this. The purpose of my writing this, by posting a response if you will to another person's blog, is simple.
It's all been for nothing.
http://www.inkkc.com/michael+gomez/blog/2943
I wrote a blog about the death of one of my heroes when it happened and I was sad. I wasn't trying to do anything more than show he was a hero, I was giving space to a legend. I wasn't trying to get someone's sympathy for my own pain. In fact, you can read my blog about George Carlin on my archived blogs. It doesn't matter.
I used his words as a way to tell a story and show why I loved his work. I didn't use it to fill out the entirety of the blog.
It's sick. It's shameful. It's wrong.
You see, I've been a strong proponent for change. For the new. For something exciting and different and vibrant. Something we can all be proud of. I've been a strong supporter in freedoms like freedom of speech and religion and whatever other freedoms you could possibly think of.
But when someone who claims to be something they most certainly are not and claims to be funny and claims to be hip and claims to be the new kid in town decides to tell a story that just seems complete douche, I have to talk about it. I have to touch on it. I have to bring it up.
Because it is douche. It is sad. It is shameful. It's a paltry attempt at comedy and gathering respect and dignity from people who should feel sad for you just for your complete lack of talent. And that's the point.
The point of all of this is simple. Don't call something original if it's not original in the slightest. Don't say something is brilliant before you tell us what it is. Don't tell everyone that you are the funniest motherfucker this side of the planet and then write some horribly douchey thing about finding true love.
Because it's not funny. It just reads like something you wrote in middle school.
It looks like times they are a-changing but sadly people that think they are the best and the coolest and the smartest and the funniest, those people will always be around. They will always pose in pictures with a girl who should know better and they will look like uber-assholes in the pictures.
Those men who don't even really look like men any more but look more like tanned Ken dolls are the douches I speak of and they are the reason this blog will continue.
I have a renewed sense of duty. A renewed sense and a renewed need to change the world.
So let's get this going.
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