White Trash and iPods

Dear Steve Jobs,

Thanks for everything you've done for stupid poor white kids. Because of your tireless efforts, I have plenty of them to laugh at whenever I go to the mall. In fact, here's a funny story about what happened the other day when I did just that...

The other day I had to go to Best Buy to return my iPod and get a new one because mine refused to sync with my iTunes, even though I had the latest version, was running it on a Mac, and had just bought the goddamn iPod three fuckin' weeks before. Silly me, I forgot that everything Steve Jobs touches is a gold-plated diarrhea taco. I'm sorry, I meant to type Mister Steve Jobs.

Anyhoo, I was waiting for the woman to come back with my new iPod, when I saw a bunch of scenesters stompin' about and whatnot, complaining about how hard it is to get by in President Snoop's America. I was intrigued by their argument. Also, one of them was wearing a Paramore t-shirt, so I knew the conversation would be articulated very well and not riddled with nonsensical colloquialisms like 'yah', 'duh', or 'like'. Like, Paramore fans totally am speaking English well.

I went up and asked what the hubbub was. They all started complaining that because of what President Dre was doing with the economy their foodstamps could only afford an iPod touch 2G, and they would therefore have to wait a week, skate back all the way over to the mall, and buy it then.

I vomited with rage all over each of them.

This is how fucked up America is, and for once, it's probably not a black guy's fault. Probably. We have a fucked up economy because poor inbred white trash keep buying stupid petty shit with their food stamps instead of, uh, what is it? Oh yeah. FOOD. Then these dolts stand around drooling and scratching their heads in bewilderment as to why the price of something goes up whenever demand exceeds supply. 'Well, that ain't fair, President Flav', they say, furrowing their brows in a vain attempt to grasp what is simply ungraspable. Idiots.

Here's a simple proposal for all dumb white people: grow a fucking brain. You sit around on your beer bellies complaining about how President T's blackness is ruining America and how Jesus wants you to assassinate him. But what you don't realize is the wonders you'd be doing for the economy if you spent less money on beer and spent more money on providing for your family. And that brings me to my next point.

White girls: if you can't afford a kid, close your legs. I'm sick of young w0men standing in Kwik-E-Mart parking lots in flip-flops and sweats smoking Newports and complaining that President Blackie McBlackenstein refuses to provide for the white girls. Maybe if you spent less time getting pregnant and more time getting a job and paying for college, then maybe you wouldn't have to rely on a complete stranger. Sounds crazy, I know, but trust me. Having a job helps pay the bills, people. Working, unlike children, actually makes you money. Kids only start making money after you sink at least a hundred grand into them. At least.

Finally, here's a tip I think we can all agree on: stop dealing drugs. All the time, I hear skinny white crackheads out in the parking lot of my grocery store talking about how President Balack YoMama is the next Hitler because he's buying up the world's supply of crack rocks to re-distribute throughout urban America in an attempt to destroy his own race(?). You know what will stop this plan? Stop buying drugs. That way, we won't have a drug problem. You'll no doubt ask me now, 'cuz yer, like, so friggin' 'tarded, 'Hey Darsh, what about all teh drug aDdix awreddy on teh streets, LULZ?'. Well, they're drug addicts. No one cares if they live or die. I'm emphasizing the 'die' part, in case you couldn't tell. We'll sound out a few street crews and shoot any dealers on sight. There, the war on drugs is over. Winner: America! Shock 'n Awe, bitches!!

Oh yeah, I forgot, this is supposed to be a letter to Steve Jobs. I really lost myself in that rant, so I forgot how I was going to wrap this up in a comedic way.

...

This is embarrassing.

Sensitivity Training

My crime: Spittin' it like it is. My time: A week in workplace sensitivity training. I know, right? A whole fucking week being told how friggin' terrible I am and how much better fags in sweaters are than me. Jesus Christ, I hate political correctness.

Let me begin my aria from the top, shall I? I was bagging for this woman (some old, hyper-sensitive slut; she probably gave Fonzie the clap) and discussing Grand Theft Auto: Chinatown Wars with my friend 'Fattie'. 'Fattie' brings up his fetish for pregnant women, and I can tell that little old bitch is not having it. I mean, I'll admit that the first time 'Fattie' told me he really fuckin' loved preggos, I was put right the fuck off. However, I've gotten to know the man during my tenure at the grocery store, and as such, am used to the inopportune times at which 'Fattie' will bring up his fetishes.

I could see, however, that the battleaxe was about to shit a fuckin' brick, so I jumped in with an expert ice breaker. "I think old chicks are hot," I said, winking at the old lady. "Big, saggy boobs like pillowcases full o' cake batter... that's what I want!" You see, I figured telling this woman she was sexually attractive would get her mind off of Fattie's open discussion of his sexual desires. Not so! In fact, dear readers, it opened a whole other can of worms. Or rather, if you will, a can of old lady menstruation.

As the bitch started screaming about how offended she was, I eyed the line behind her. Nobody had batted an eyelash at 'Fattie' and his hard-on for bunned-ovens, but now everyone was staring straight at me for trying to pick up a GMILF whilst on the clock. Well excuuuuuuse me!

I took hold of the situation with both hands. Then the old lady slapped me and told me never to grab her boobs again. So I calmly explained to her that her behavior was getting irritating, borderline infuriating, and that if she was going to continue bleeding out her vadge all over the place, I would have to ask her to leave. That's when the old hag just went apeshit! Suddenly she demanded to see my superior. I had to think fast. So I went to the bathroom and made a makeshift fake moustache out of wet toilet paper. I emerged in the perfect disguise. No way could this crusty hoe tell me from Adam. I decided right then and there that I didn't care what anyone said, eating cherry pull-off Twizzlers doesn't make you gay. Then, I went back to that old lady and spat my game...

Needless to say my boss was there, and he didn't like my disguise. The old lady... well, I won't even honor what she said to me by repeating it here (it wasn't very lady-like, you fuckin' whore). But long story short, I'm on my boss' shit list and have to go to sensitivity training for some reason. I mean, I wasn't being insensitive. I would say that given how much I cried while my boss berated me in front of my own grandmother would prove how sensitive I really am.

This Month's Internet Idiot

This month's internet idiot is one whom I've only recently discovered. You see, as I approach college in the fall, I've been doing all I can to get a few scholarships. One interesting scholarship program I've found is the Uberman project. Basically, dumbass kids dress up as superheroes for a five minute video and win one measly grand. Not necessarily the stupidest thing I've seen on the internet, but the bunk doesn't stop there.

On the scholarship's website, one will find a veritable counsel of morons. On http://www.theuberman.com, you'll see a message board, blogs, and ugggh... vlogs about these idiots and their boring, daily routines.

One particular idiot sticks out in my mind as one of the stupidest people on the fucking planet. His name (her name?) is Oki Okounagu, or some kinda crazy Anime character's name. Anyhoo, this 'tard is one of those especially hated cyber intellectuals. They type up whole reams of papers full of existentialist questions, all meant to cocktease one's brain into ejaculating a steamy load of truth.

Truth my ass. Oki posted ten questions that will "change your life forever". He opens his list by spending an entire paragraph talking about how great he is and how inspired he is by his own personal journal. You can tell by his writing that he is the type of guy who will read his entire fucking journal aloud, including all the parts where he bad-mouths his friends, and then acts like he doesn't know why no one invites him to parties anymore. The entire page can be viewed here: http://www.theuberman.com/blog/posts/ten-questions/.

He dares, nay, he double dares his reader to answer these stupid questions. I never say no to a dare, asshole. Hence why I eat so much dog crap. Yours will surely be no exception!

1) how am i best suited to serve humanity? That's a stupid question. What a stupid thing to ask. You must really be stupid to think that asking me such a stupid question would not be a waste of my time. I'm not suited to serve humanity at all. Humanity, however, is very well suited to serving me.
2)what do I feel growing inside me? I am not a woman, so nothing. Though I did eat Taco Bell last night... Uh-oh, dear readers, I think I'm gonna give birth to a Cosby kid!
3)how can I create joy and abundance in someones life? Me? Create joy? Please. Also, kids suck, so there's no way I'm giving anyone 'abundance'. Who would even ask for abundance in their lives? It seems so strange. Joy I could see, but abundance? What are you, Job?
4)what can one man do to change the course of the world? Absolutely nothing. I, however, can do plenty. Like keep fuckheads like you off the inter-webs. This is my domain! How dare you intrude with your questions? Take it back to Shanghai, sushi breath!
5)what excites you? Porn.
6)how can I do more amazing shit? By not killing myself! I swear not to destroy myself unless it will inspire a legion of idiots to do the same. And if that were the case, I promise to do it by stepping in front of a bullet train being driven by the Incredible Hulk. That's the only manly way to die.
7)if today were the last day of my life, would I spend it doing the same things I am doing today? I think if I knew I were going to die, I wouldn't waste my precious heartbeats on explaining to an idiot the reasons why he is an idiot, however, since I will never die (unless I step in front of a bullet train being driven by the Incredible Hulk), I have all the time in the world to rank you out.
8)what do you really want? You to die.
9)what would Bruce Lee do? Probably get killed by Chuck Norris (as I said, this guy is Asian. And since Asia has no really cool ass-kickers, they have to drag out the name of a dead legend)
10)what would it take to make you truly happy? If you got a really cool disease where doctors had to amputate your hands, eyes, ears, and tongue, that would bring me to half-mast with joy. But don't feel sad, Oki; I would visit you! I'd even sign your tongue cast for you. People would call you the luckiest man in all of Mongolia if they saw you with me. And on top of that, I'd give you a football. An American football!