As hard as it might be to believe, I actually have a day job. That's right ladies and germs: I am actually capable of holding it together long enough to stay (somewhat) gainfully employed. And my (somewhat) gainful employment affords me no end of stupid shit to write about.
There are a lot of guys out there who don't seem to be able to grasp how old they actually are. When you work at a job that's connect to the media in any way, you run across way more than your recommended daily allowance of these gentlemen. There really is nothing more pathetic than a guy clinging with a death grip to his mid-twenties. Particularly when that guy is closing in on fifty. It almost makes me feel sorry for them. Almost. So with that in mind, I've assembled a list of five things that I think should be outlawed for men over the age of thirty-five. This is in no way a complete list. I'm not even comfortable calling it a top five. It's just five examples that I see on a daily basis that make me want to vomit with rage.
5. Having a Song As Your Ringtone
Having a musical ringtone only serves to accomplish two things: One, it makes it very clear exactly how old you are by cluing people in to what music was popular back in your heyday. Two, it lets everyone around you know just how shitty your musical taste is. It's cool when "Sweet Home Alabama" comes on at 2:30 in the morning when you're shit out of your tree at a bar. When it comes on 35 times a day in the office, it just makes people want to brain you with an inkjet printer.
4. Wearing Pooka Bead Necklaces
This may not be as widespread of a problem as I think it is. I work in digital media, so I am forced to interact with a lot of people from California and it's completely possible that this could be a problem native to that part of the country. If that's the case, then it's just one more thing to add to California's list of crimes against humanity. But that doesn't make it any less pathetic. These guys seem to be under the misguided impression that it makes them look like a cool surfer guy. It doesn't. It just makes you look like a dipshit who has lost touch with reality. You're not a 19 year old on spring break. You're a 42 year old Java programmer. BIIIIIIIIG difference. One of you has a chance of to catching chlamydia during a hot tub-related threesome. One of you I wish would get syphilis and die. Can you guess which one you are? WRONG! You're the second one.
Pictured: A California Dipshit
3. Fist Bumping
You know when it's an appropriate time for a grown man to fist bump? When you catch a bounce pass from Chris Paul and rise up so high, and throw down a dunk with such violence, that Oklahoma City Thunder center Kendrick Perkins' family immediately disowns him and demands he take the name off the back of his jersey. Here's an example:
You see that? You see Blake Griffin's fist bump after that dunk? No. You didn't. If Blake Griffin doesn't fist bump after that slam, you shouldn't fist bump people after a conference call.
2. Using the Word "Bro"
I'll admit it that I'm not a fan of the word "bro" in general but I always treated it as one of those stupid college fratboy things that guys are supposed to grow out of when they turn into men. Unfortuntely, I seem to be one of a small minority who feels this way. The next 40-something who comes up to me and says "what's up bro" is getting hepatitis throw in their face. And the same thing goes for brother and brah and broham and brosky and any other dogshit variation of the word you can come up with. You not a fucking professional wrestler, so just cut the shit. And if you want to keep saying it, then I suggest you take part in another hallowed pro wrestling tradition and die before your 50.
1. The Soul Patch
Forget about after 35, the soul patch is something that belongs on a list of things that guys should stop doing. Period. It is the single most moronic facial hair fashion, just barely edging out the Rollie Fingers mustache. But at least you can say you grew the Rollie Fingers as a goof. There is no way you're going to convince anyone that there is something ironic about a porn star's pubes on your lower lip. A soul patch DOES NOT make you look like a soulful free spirit. A soul patch DOES make you look like someone who should be arrested on suspicion of statutory rape.
Seriously, would you trust this guy alone with your teenage daughter?
I'm the last person in the world to ever judge someone for downloading shit off the internet. I don't remember when the last time I actually paid for music was. So this isn't going to be one of those "piracy is terrible and needs to be stopped" speeches. Because I don't really give a shit.
What I do give a shit about is people who bitch about the kinds of movies that get made and music that gets promoted. Or rather doesn't, in most cases. Do you know why your favorite Icelandic folk-metal band can't get a record deal while RIAA can't wait to slap Justin Bieber's face on anything it can get it's hands on? Because 14 year old girls buy cds. You don't. You download all your shit off Pirate Bay for free. Which is fine. But there are repercussions to that. Why does Hollywood keep pumping out the same buddy cop romcom and superhero reboots now in Seizurematic 3D IMAX? Well they might have been more inclined to take a chance on a deep character drama by that little indie director you like so much, but you'd probably just bittorrent a bootleg copy if you couldn't just wait for it to come out on Netflix. Cause who pays movie theater prices? That shit's for suckers!
Oh I can just hear you now.
"But why can't they just do it for the love of their art form? Not everything has to be about money!"
Yyyyyyeahhhh...That all sounds well and good on paper. But there is this really asshole thing that a lot of us humans like. It's called eating. And most of us like to do it with some kind of regularity. And apparently Whole Foods doesn't accept demo cd's in exchange for groceries. So while the whole "love of the game" speil might sound like a good arguement on your favorite messageboard, it's a known fact that four out of five artist would choose Not Starvation over Artistic Integrity.
"Well you know, they don't have to become rich. They still make more than the rest of us. They should just be happy enough to make a living doing what they love!"
Yeah but no. You see, you're a no-talent-having jizzbucket who makes coffee at Starbucks or suffles papers around in a cubicle. Being creative is hard. I know. I fail miserably at it on a pretty consistent basis. Why shouldn't they be rewarded for their talent and hard work? In the world we live in, you vote with your wallet, to use an overdone cliche. If you aren't going to pony up your money to support the shit you want to see and hear, why should anyone else?
"Well I don't want my money going into some big shot executive's pockets!"
I used to use this argument. Then I grew up and stopped being a fucking retard. You're not taking a stand against the system and making a difference. You're just taking money out of your favorite artists' pockets. Do you think those record and studio execs are going to say "Well profits are down but we'll just take a pay cut so we can keep paying our artist the same amount?" If you do, you should seriously consider trying to stop a subway with your face. Those guys will continue to keep taking their ridiculously fat salaries. Either at your expense or at the expense of the writer/musician/director you whose work you love. So lets just stop pretending that your cheapskateness is some kind of capitalist protest. It's not. It's just you being a cheap motherfucker.
So by all means, keep doing what your doing. But don't come bitching to me when all your favorite websites start looking like this:
I probably could have just stopped after the picture. I don't care who you are. I don't give a rat fuck how long you've been a fan of this website. I don't care if you've told everyone you know about us and have done everything you can to make us famous. If you like Guy Fieri, not only do I want you to stop reading this website, but I want you to stop reading this website, stab yourself with a syringe full of Arthur Ashe's blood, and go die alone in a gutter somewhere.
Just mentioning this assclown's name fills me with a seething hatred like few others can coax out of me. For fuck's sake "Fieri" isn't even his last name! His real name is Ferry. But apparently calling Johnny Garlic's (with such Italian classics as cajun fettucini alfredo and chipotle shimp and chorizo pizza) an Italian restaraunt wasn't enough of an insult to Italian's everywhere, so this spikey-hair jizzbucket decided that changing his last name to something more Italian was the way to go.
I can't even put my finger on exactly what it is that I hate so much about it. Is it the ridiculous frosted tips and the forearm sweatband that he stole from 2002? It could also be that he wears sunglasses on the back of his head. The fact that he's 45 years old and still thinks it's ok to wear shirts with flames on them certainly doesn't help his case. Neither do all of his idiotic catch phrases. Where exactly is "Flavortown?" And what's the quickest way to get there so I can dump antrax in the towns drinking water?
If you watch Guy for 10 minutes, you start to understand why there are people who hate America. Watch him for 25 minutes and start to think that maybe they have a point. And I can honestly say that after watching this botched abortion on tv for a solid 60 minutes, I would allow 9/11 to happen all over again if it meant that Guy Fieri would be killed in the attack. It's like someone took everything that sucks about America, the male gender, and humanity as a whole, mix it into some kind of seething, swirling morass of soul destruction, and then brought it to life. Just look at him.
He's wearing a zip up leather t-shirt. ZIP UP! LEATHER! T-SHIRT! If there were ever two words that should never be included with t-shirt, it's leather and zip up. And that's how I know there is no God. At the very least not a just or loving one. Because a just and loving God wouldn't allow someone like this to go on living. But thank Jeebus for cancer! Because between his constant facial sunburn and the amount of meat and alcohol this guy pours into his gullet, there is a pretty good chance that skin/liver/colon cancer will rid us of this assclown before too long. And with all the shit this guy has to put in his hair, we can probably put brain cancer on the list too. Hopefully anyway.
Just look at that smug asshole...So I'm back after a little holiday break with friends and family. Ok so I was really just playing Skyrim until my thumbs bleed. Don't judge me! You have no idea how engrossing foraging for berries, chopping wood, and working in a blacksmith's shop can be. But I'm back now and I have something to get off my chest:
RYAN SEACREST IS A CUNT!
Seriously, how is this guy allowed to continue living on this Earth using up valuable resources? What does this creep even do? He's not an actor. He has no creative or musical talent. He brings absolutely nothing to the table whatsoever. But famous attention whores everywhere seem to love him, which is even more irritating. There are the same vapid wastes of skin that get their labia in a twist if wear fur or drink a coffee that isn't certified fair trade or when you make a joke about kicking a puggle. (But then again who wouldn't? Puggles are adorable!) But meanwhile, every New Years Eve, this dimple-faced jerkoff can drag out Dick Clark's dessicated corpse like he's doing a remake of Weekend at Bernie's and nobody says a fucking word! We all know that Dick Clark died six years ago, and I'm sick and tired of Captain Stubbleface desecrating his dead body just so he can parade a string of one hit wonders in front of a tv camera in Times Square. He should be tried in front of the Hague for crimes against humanity, not getting paid exorbitant amounts of money. Dick Clark brought us American Bandstand for Jeebus' sake. Let the man rest in peace!
Pictured: Ryan Seacrest with his hand up the ass of poor puppet-corpse Dick Clark
My life has been irrevocably altered by methamphetamines. It's cold and flu season and I can't get any decent medicine without two forms of identification and a doctor's note. What? You thought I was going to say something about the horrors of crystal meth addiction? So what if some redneck asshole wants to fire antifreeze and cough syrup up his nose. I give a shit. These are the same people that think Nascar is a sport and Toby Keith is a good musician.
So none of these jerkoffs were ever gonna cure cancer or invent a longer lasting lightbulb or really contribute anything to anyone. So who cares if they wanna cook up some bathtub meth and snort it or smoke it or cram it up their pee hole until they pass away? Let them. I can't breathe out of half my face! I NEED SUDAFED!
Monday, January 30, 2012 at 8:50PM 
Pictured: A California Dipshit
Cause you really shouldn't...
