The Sounds of Douchebag America

My Mac is probably my favorite thing.  I understand that they were a little slow on the draw with the “right click” thing, that they were one of the least environmentally-friendly computer manufacturers due to poor recycling protocol, and that they are astoundingly difficult to upgrade, but you got to admit, that interface is real purty-like.  Their quirky ads, chic look, solid marketing strategies, and my gullibility for them…they do make me superior to you.

I just…I’ve become so acclimated to this high-brow lifestyle that I really can’t imagine what it is like to live as a mass-mentality underling.  You know?  I’m not going to fall for a product just because there’s a snazzy advertisement for it.  I’m not going to go ahead and purchase a weighty investment to keep up with the Joneses, or be duped by trendiness.  When I visit the alternative coffeehouse near my apartment and see everyone working on a Mac, I think, “Now that’s what I call alternative.”

Anyway, I have to go; I really need to finish Stuff White People Like before my friends and I go smoke pot and watch Amelie. You should read it; I got it from Urban Outfitters.  It’s got a blog, too.  You should check it out sometime.

I can’t believe it.  Of all the hundreds of television shows that are airing now, of all the hundreds upon hundreds of television shows that have aired for the past, oh, about five decades, and of all the brilliant-but-canceled television programs that have made it onto DVD to give everyone a second chance to witness their greatness…of all those shows, you had to go ahead and not see the one I’m referring to.

How hard can it be?  I know you salsa, kayak, play oboe, and even go on a couple dates here and there, but seriously, you have to see this show.  It’s so great.  Listen: it combines comedy and tragedy into something reminiscent of a “tragi-comedy.”  It’s got this dark streak of really biting satire and social commentary.  And the soundtrack is indie-licious!  Jesus, I still can’t believe you haven’t seen it.  Do you live under a rock or something?  I’m addicted to this shit, man.  It’s virtually ruining any chances of my getting off the couch and finding myself a part-time day job.

It’s like…canonical, man.  There are so many canonical television shows that you are missing out on.  Dozens upon dozens of them, totalling to hundreds upon hundreds of hours of top-notch  entertainment, and you are missing out on all of it.  What are you doing instead?  I defy you to answer me.  Nothing?  Not enough time, is that it?  I am…I am shocked and appalled.  Did you ever see the Simpsons episode where Bart says that?  I bet not, low-minded simian.  Go cook yourself a healthy dinner or something.  I’m going to order in Papa John’s.

We should be accepting of all people, no matter their skin color, sexual orientation, or how much they drool on themselves when they talk.  Why do people hate each other for silly things?  When I am talking to the one African-American barista at the campus coffeehouse, I don’t think “black.”  No; I think “friend.”  Some people don’t get past that, though, because they are a bunch of tards.  Obviously, it’s important to have respect for all people.

And the language people use!  Whenever anyone says “Oh, the shirt  is so gay,” like, what does that even mean?  Like, I’m so impervious to prejudice and hatred that I am unable to comprehend the very meaning of that sentence.  Does it mean that the shirt is attracted to other shirts?  Why single out one community of people and substitute in negative adjectives like that?  Is there a point to it?  No.  People are just retarded.

Even President Obama made a disparaging remark on the Tonight Show.  Can you believe the nerve of that guy?  Saying that his bowling skills were on par with those of a Special Olympian.  He’s a minority himself; he should know better.  Unbelievable.  How would he feel if I said that my bowling skills were comparable to those of a Halfrican-American?  Not too hot, I’d think.

I mean, I really can’t resist.  Can you?  No!  It’s SpaghettiOs!  Nothing screams genuine wit-slash-hilariosity like references to things from my late-80s-slash-early-90s childhood.  I swear, you could even get me going on Ninja Turtles.  Or Power Rangers.  Or Operation Desert Storm.  Someone randomly says, “Turtle Power!,” and I’m all over that.  So clever.  No punchline, thanks.  Throw in an old Nickelodeon line, and I’m all over it.  I love nostallgeeuh.

No matter what, too.  I’m committed.  Like, one time my grandfather was recounting some trauma-thingie experience he had in Vietnam, and when the shell shock or whatever started to settle in and his knuckles whitened and his face paled, Grandma was all like “Uh-oh!” and I said “Wait, wait, hold on!” and I rushed to grab a can from the pantry and I was like “SpaghettiOs!,” which I thought was funny but nobody laughed because by the time I got back he was passed out face-down in a puddle of his own tears.

But no seriously, I’m on the ball with that all the time, like when the super at my apartment keeps threatening me about how he’s broke and needs someone who can pay the rent on time and he’s really thinking about showing me a thing or two and blah blah blah, I mean, he was lecturing me and threatening to kick me out when he was realized he was late for an appointment (with LAMEness, lol) and he was all like “Uh oh!,” and guess what I said!?  Oh, speak of the devil, I think that’s him at the door.

Uh oh.

I mean, how else do you expect me to cope with how miserable everything is?  At work, I mean, we have job stability and the firm’s doing well, but there’s  this lingering air of  “what-if-no-holiday-bonuses” anxiety that really puts things into perspective.

It’s affecting me in so many ways.  Like, I’m really hesitant to join the gym because I don’t want to put down a deposit for a year subscription and then have the place go belly-up.  I can’t take that risk.  You of all people should understand avoiding a gym, the way you’ve been putting it on.  I don’t want to buy cable, either.  I’m afraid if for some bizarre reason I lose my job, it will distract me from finding a new one.  Lord knows I don’t need you to have another excuse to lie on the couch all day, either.

Haven’t you heard that fiscal troubles not only increase depression among men, but also their libidos?  Yeah, I forgot where I read that, but it’s true.  It was probably in one of those health and wellness magazines you get every month but never bother to look at.  Basically, in these troubled times, I need more gratification than one partner can give me.

Sorry to spring this on you.  Tell you what, I’ll buy you dinner, and we’ll talk it over.  I would say Cheesecake Factory, but I don’t want to encourage you.  Actually, forget that.  I’ll just make you a salad.