PC or Mac? Bitch, how about oral or anal? I'm sick of these fucking PC vs. Mac ads. They're ruining TV for me. I can barely get through an episode of The Office without that fat douchebag and that smaller, more hip douchebag ranting on and on about how much PC's suck and how much Macs rule. Well no longer! I'm settling this dispute once and for all! The winner is...
WHITE PEOPLE!
For once, the downtrodden white man comes away with a win. Y'see, no matter which side you choose, whitey gets his due. No matter what you buy, he gets your money, and no matter which side you choose, he laughs at your suffering from on high in the corporate squash room, swathed comfortably in his dress polyester, a margarita in one hand and an illegal immigrant in the other. He's living the good life, and you're rotting like a papaya! Trust me, papayas are real, and they rot quickly.
And why shouldn't he laugh at you? You people sound like idiots when you march around all young and hip/all old and uncool. You think you own the universe/don't own the universe! Let me break down why both sides of this war are complete tools.
SPECIMEN 1: The Mac. Whassup?! I'm that asshole you roomed with in college! I listen to Fall Out Boy, Bloc Party , and, when I'm feeling extra deep, Dave Matthews! Also, I gel my hair to make it look like I didn't wash it or style it at all, even though it's going to be covered nicely by my awesomely over-sized trucker cap that says "Jesus Is My Homeboy". You know what's cool? I mean, other than wearing sunglasses indoors and saying, "Yo" to black people. That's right! Macs! They're way cooler than PC's! Why, you ask? Oh, that's easy... It's 'cuz... uh... they have a neat, uh... well, if the kid from Dodgeball says it, it must be true. I mean, he boned Drew Barrymore, even though she's twelve years older than him! AWESOME! MYSPACE!! Whooo!
SPECIMEN 2: The PC. Hello. I'm the man who sits in the cubicle next to yours. I am a social outcast of unbelievable proportions, I wear a yellow shirt with brown pants, and I am slowly dying inside. Sorry, didn't mean to fly off the handle there. But I'm just so excited to tell you about my PC. It's heavy as hell, a fat white square, and provides mild thrills for a reasonable servicing fee. Just like my wife... if only that were a joke. I may not have an iPod or 'friends', as you call them, but I have a Zune, and my ten year high school reunion is coming up... that should give me a nice opportunity to make people remember me before I go on a shooting spree next month. Well, gotta go. I was feeling randy, so I downloaded some porn off of a site called JCPenny.com. See you all in hell; I'll be the one wearing a yellow shirt and brown pants.
Here's an idea: why don't you all realize that no matter who wins, you lose. Even if you are happy with your computer, you are still a loser. Why? Because you are not me! Oh, and just for the record, neither PC or Mac is the best. LINUX BITCHES!! 'Nuff said.
Saturday, May 30, 2009
Wednesday, May 20, 2009
President Darsh
I was going through a few of my old magazines looking for a collector's issue I could pawn for crack when I found an interesting article on a fairly recent edition of the Hippo. The writer was probably some stoned beard-faced know-it-all like everyone else who writes for the Hippo, I knew, but I thought since the article was on a pretty interesting subject, I'd give it a shot.
The article was called... crap, I sold the issue for crack. Anyhoo, the article was about how the economy is affecting children, and how the funding a given district receives may have an influence on how broad of an education a child receives. The following is my retort.
DUH!
Are you fucking two? Of course a school's funding has an influence on the kids. They're the ones going to that school! A better article would've been about how the school's funding has an affect on however many antidepressants the art teacher takes. Of course, the article was largely pointless. I mean, kids are stupid little sons-o-fucks anyhow; what does it matter how much money we throw at them? This brings me to my latest announcement:
I, Darsh, am running for President of the School Board. I'll just sit here and read porn while that soaks in...
All set? Good. Let's get lubed. That's my catchphrase. Like, when you see my ad on TV, you'll see me talking to black people, or me rolling up my sleeves waaaay up my arms so that I can talk to construction workers, and then you hear my uplifting voice saying the catchphrase: "Let's get lubed."
My platform consists of a one-step plan called the "I-Take-Your-Money-And-Run" option. It's an option because it sounds a lot better on a ballot. Like, oh, I see, this guy just has ideas, that commie bastard, but Darsh has options. That's my game-winner.
My option is simple: I take all the money set aside for school funding and I run. Away from the schools, that is. Y'see, children suck. They don't deserve our money. So I'm taking your money and investing it in a market that cannot fail: hookers.
So how will our little shits learn, you ask? My solution is simple: the hard way (heh heh... hard). No more of those sissy afterschool clubs. Nothing pisses of Daddy like having to hear about every inane and minute detail of what happened to the person who ruined his wife's vagina, especially since he's been working for the past ten hours just so his fat little bastards and/or bitches can gain more weight. Afterschool should not be playtime. It should be 'make-Daddy-food' time, followed by 'get-screamed-at-and-hit' time, then 'get-shoved-down-a-flight-of-stairs' time, and finally 'pass-out-in-basement' time.
Afterschool clubs won't be lonely in Hell, though. Joining 'afterschool' is 'during school'. No more classes, no more books, and no more teachers. We've been hearing lots of horror stories about teachers molesting kids lately. Now that problem's solved. Find another job, you philosophy major!
Out with the old and in with the new. And the new school is called 'Life'. In this new school, you will learn how to live and how to die. Survival is the name of the game, because school takes place inside three Hellginas spread across the Earth like Maya Angelou's legs spread across a black president's face. At the age of six, children will be taught by their parents to read. This will take about two months (any longer and they get a shotgun to the face; we'll tell them we're taking 'em to Disneyland). After that, we test the shits on what they've learned. The reading test is a pamphlet. Kids will choose one of the three schools to attend; Jungle school, in the rainforests of South America; Frozen school, in the tundra of Russia; or Ass school, in the smelliest parts of Turkey. I know Turkey doesn't sound too bad, but have you seen Midnight Express? Better tell Billy not to drop the soap.
If and when the little shits return home, they'll be ready for any task to which the Giver assigns them. Oh yeah, I forgot; we need Givers. But I'll get to that later.
My new plan is sure to pick up steam like a good ol' fashioned steam-picker-upper. But there's just one problem: I NEED FUNDING! So, here's the deal: send me your money, and your kid gets sent to the special fourth school. Called "Dirt" school and taking place in my basement, this select academy is for kids who want to learn the magic of cleaning my stuff, and also staying out of my boxes. So please, won't you give your child the future they deserve? And by that I mean no future?
The article was called... crap, I sold the issue for crack. Anyhoo, the article was about how the economy is affecting children, and how the funding a given district receives may have an influence on how broad of an education a child receives. The following is my retort.
DUH!
Are you fucking two? Of course a school's funding has an influence on the kids. They're the ones going to that school! A better article would've been about how the school's funding has an affect on however many antidepressants the art teacher takes. Of course, the article was largely pointless. I mean, kids are stupid little sons-o-fucks anyhow; what does it matter how much money we throw at them? This brings me to my latest announcement:
I, Darsh, am running for President of the School Board. I'll just sit here and read porn while that soaks in...
All set? Good. Let's get lubed. That's my catchphrase. Like, when you see my ad on TV, you'll see me talking to black people, or me rolling up my sleeves waaaay up my arms so that I can talk to construction workers, and then you hear my uplifting voice saying the catchphrase: "Let's get lubed."
My platform consists of a one-step plan called the "I-Take-Your-Money-And-Run" option. It's an option because it sounds a lot better on a ballot. Like, oh, I see, this guy just has ideas, that commie bastard, but Darsh has options. That's my game-winner.
My option is simple: I take all the money set aside for school funding and I run. Away from the schools, that is. Y'see, children suck. They don't deserve our money. So I'm taking your money and investing it in a market that cannot fail: hookers.
So how will our little shits learn, you ask? My solution is simple: the hard way (heh heh... hard). No more of those sissy afterschool clubs. Nothing pisses of Daddy like having to hear about every inane and minute detail of what happened to the person who ruined his wife's vagina, especially since he's been working for the past ten hours just so his fat little bastards and/or bitches can gain more weight. Afterschool should not be playtime. It should be 'make-Daddy-food' time, followed by 'get-screamed-at-and-hit' time, then 'get-shoved-down-a-flight-of-stairs' time, and finally 'pass-out-in-basement' time.
Afterschool clubs won't be lonely in Hell, though. Joining 'afterschool' is 'during school'. No more classes, no more books, and no more teachers. We've been hearing lots of horror stories about teachers molesting kids lately. Now that problem's solved. Find another job, you philosophy major!
Out with the old and in with the new. And the new school is called 'Life'. In this new school, you will learn how to live and how to die. Survival is the name of the game, because school takes place inside three Hellginas spread across the Earth like Maya Angelou's legs spread across a black president's face. At the age of six, children will be taught by their parents to read. This will take about two months (any longer and they get a shotgun to the face; we'll tell them we're taking 'em to Disneyland). After that, we test the shits on what they've learned. The reading test is a pamphlet. Kids will choose one of the three schools to attend; Jungle school, in the rainforests of South America; Frozen school, in the tundra of Russia; or Ass school, in the smelliest parts of Turkey. I know Turkey doesn't sound too bad, but have you seen Midnight Express? Better tell Billy not to drop the soap.
If and when the little shits return home, they'll be ready for any task to which the Giver assigns them. Oh yeah, I forgot; we need Givers. But I'll get to that later.
My new plan is sure to pick up steam like a good ol' fashioned steam-picker-upper. But there's just one problem: I NEED FUNDING! So, here's the deal: send me your money, and your kid gets sent to the special fourth school. Called "Dirt" school and taking place in my basement, this select academy is for kids who want to learn the magic of cleaning my stuff, and also staying out of my boxes. So please, won't you give your child the future they deserve? And by that I mean no future?
Saturday, May 16, 2009
quickie: Niger1
Lower your guns, loyal readers; the war between Nigers and the Darshans has come to a peaceful resolution.
I know you're all disappointed that a horrific and bloody battle did not ensue at my behest, however, I think I speak for myself and the deposed Prince of Niger (who refuses to answer my e-mails) when I say that in the end, we all wanted a win. A win for me, that is. And we all got that in the end.
I was about to give my top officer, some Korean guy named 'Wang' (I know, can you believe it?), the order to fire on the imposing Nigers when I got an urgent e-mail for niger1@yahoo.com. I present it in its entirety.
Dear Darsh,
I surrender. Please, call back your fatwas on my family, and I will pledge my allegiance to you. I have sent those vials of blood you asked for as well.
One Love, Niger1
First of all, I'd like to say that it takes a big man to apologize. However, it takes a bigger man to gloat about his superiority on his own blog. I retain the crown, bitches! Oh, and to my so-called BFF the deposed Prince of Niger: what the hell, dog? We were supposed to hit up Dave & Buster's last week. You ditched me like some punk-ass trick! You've changed, man.
I know you're all disappointed that a horrific and bloody battle did not ensue at my behest, however, I think I speak for myself and the deposed Prince of Niger (who refuses to answer my e-mails) when I say that in the end, we all wanted a win. A win for me, that is. And we all got that in the end.
I was about to give my top officer, some Korean guy named 'Wang' (I know, can you believe it?), the order to fire on the imposing Nigers when I got an urgent e-mail for niger1@yahoo.com. I present it in its entirety.
Dear Darsh,
I surrender. Please, call back your fatwas on my family, and I will pledge my allegiance to you. I have sent those vials of blood you asked for as well.
One Love, Niger1
First of all, I'd like to say that it takes a big man to apologize. However, it takes a bigger man to gloat about his superiority on his own blog. I retain the crown, bitches! Oh, and to my so-called BFF the deposed Prince of Niger: what the hell, dog? We were supposed to hit up Dave & Buster's last week. You ditched me like some punk-ass trick! You've changed, man.
Thursday, May 7, 2009
Making An Example Out of a Doucher
Dearest Readers, I feel that I am not a man of braggadocio; that is to say, I do not make bold, untrue claims. My claims may be bold, but untrue? Another matter entirely. If I post it, it's the goddamn truth. After all, you can't lie on the inter-webs. That would be illegal, or something.
As many of you know, now that my blog is picking up steam like a runaway locomotive being driven by the Incredible Hulk, I have been attracting hate mail like a wet piece of dog shit attracts flies. However, this week marks a first: I got my first inter-webs challenge.
The challenger: niger1website@yahoo.com. This bastard has some beef to queef, I guess. Apparently, when he read that the deposed Prince of Nigeria claimed that I was the hottest blogger in the world, this young blood took it as an insult. Niger, please. His e-mail does all the talking.
Hello so according to a Nigerien or Nigerian ( Niger or Nigerian ) you are the hottest blogger on Earth
i manage http://www.niger1.com
Okay, so you manage a website about Nigerians... what are you, a slave trader? Or, more likely, is it a challenge you seek? Methinks I shall take your challenge head-on!
Now, I am a gentleman (not really; I am never gentle about anything), and as such I am required to allow the challenged to choose in which way I shall destroy and humiliate him over the inter-webs. Oh, I'm sorry, I meant over my inter-webs!
Now, I know what you're all thinking: "Darsh, what if it's all a mistake?" Yeah, well, what if I smack you upside the head with a baby, asshole?! This is between me and this SOB.
So, Niger1, if you've got the stones, e-mail me back with either a proper, mano a mano challenge, or an apology. Either one is fine by me. Oh, and if you're going to apologize, I will need a swearing of allegiance to my cause. Also, you will need to send me some of your blood, which I will use to sign your name in the book of Mephistopheles, and--oh, never mind, it's not important.
In any case, I think it would be a nicety of you to respond within one week. You sir... ARE ON NOTICE! Deal, motherfucker.
So! Let's recap, kids:
Niger1 challenged me, I think. He has only a handful of options-
1)Challenge me properly, which is to say, via e-mail. I do NOT respond to IMs.
2)Rescind the challenge, if indeed that is what your grammatically incorrect message was.
3)Stay off of my website for eternity, or at least until I forget who you are.
See you in one week with the answer!
As many of you know, now that my blog is picking up steam like a runaway locomotive being driven by the Incredible Hulk, I have been attracting hate mail like a wet piece of dog shit attracts flies. However, this week marks a first: I got my first inter-webs challenge.
The challenger: niger1website@yahoo.com. This bastard has some beef to queef, I guess. Apparently, when he read that the deposed Prince of Nigeria claimed that I was the hottest blogger in the world, this young blood took it as an insult. Niger, please. His e-mail does all the talking.
Hello so according to a Nigerien or Nigerian ( Niger or Nigerian ) you are the hottest blogger on Earth
i manage http://www.niger1.com
Okay, so you manage a website about Nigerians... what are you, a slave trader? Or, more likely, is it a challenge you seek? Methinks I shall take your challenge head-on!
Now, I am a gentleman (not really; I am never gentle about anything), and as such I am required to allow the challenged to choose in which way I shall destroy and humiliate him over the inter-webs. Oh, I'm sorry, I meant over my inter-webs!
Now, I know what you're all thinking: "Darsh, what if it's all a mistake?" Yeah, well, what if I smack you upside the head with a baby, asshole?! This is between me and this SOB.
So, Niger1, if you've got the stones, e-mail me back with either a proper, mano a mano challenge, or an apology. Either one is fine by me. Oh, and if you're going to apologize, I will need a swearing of allegiance to my cause. Also, you will need to send me some of your blood, which I will use to sign your name in the book of Mephistopheles, and--oh, never mind, it's not important.
In any case, I think it would be a nicety of you to respond within one week. You sir... ARE ON NOTICE! Deal, motherfucker.
So! Let's recap, kids:
Niger1 challenged me, I think. He has only a handful of options-
1)Challenge me properly, which is to say, via e-mail. I do NOT respond to IMs.
2)Rescind the challenge, if indeed that is what your grammatically incorrect message was.
3)Stay off of my website for eternity, or at least until I forget who you are.
See you in one week with the answer!
Monday, May 4, 2009
quickie: Darsh Studios, Limited
Remember way back in 2008 when I talked about putting my own movie on the inter-webs? Well, let the faithful rejoice and the doubters suck a fat one: Darsh Studios, Limited just got launched on YouTube by myself and a few of my trusted colleagues*
Go hit up YouTube and check out 'Time-Cod' for a glimpse of my first ever self-produced work. It's as beautiful as one thousand naked fem-bots slaughtering a demonic horde of zombie-Jews.
Just a head's up. Soon, maybe... just maybe, I'll go global. Then everyone will respect me and not just the dogs who I feed at the park.
*This is a lie. I don't trust anyone, and I certainly don't have any colleagues (DMC and Bill Nie the Science Guy notwithstanding). However, I do have some people who are willing to pay me to sleep with them.
Go hit up YouTube and check out 'Time-Cod' for a glimpse of my first ever self-produced work. It's as beautiful as one thousand naked fem-bots slaughtering a demonic horde of zombie-Jews.
Just a head's up. Soon, maybe... just maybe, I'll go global. Then everyone will respect me and not just the dogs who I feed at the park.
*This is a lie. I don't trust anyone, and I certainly don't have any colleagues (DMC and Bill Nie the Science Guy notwithstanding). However, I do have some people who are willing to pay me to sleep with them.
quickie: format change
A head's up to the hardcore:
First of all, you shouldn't be calling yourselves hardcore. You kids know I hate anything that ends with -core; c'mon, you're better than that. Anyhoo, I wanted everyone to know that there will be some changes in this blog's general vicinity. I've been in talks with some kid with a bad haircut about getting a more formal domain of my own to host the blog. Of course, that may pose a legal snafu, as my content is 'technically' owned by Blogspot, not me. Now, I'm no Barack Obama, but, hey, shouldn't 'freedom' factor into who owns the content that my brain-balls produce? You'd think so, wouldn't you? Anyway, go back and replace 'technically', with 'legally', and you've got a firm grip on the situation.
I don't want to cocktease anyone by posting something that isn't going to happen. Trust me when I say I'm definitely getting my own site. Whether or not it will feature 'classic' Darsh remains a mystery. The only thing standing in my way is that kid with the bad haircut. His name is Justin something or other (he's a Polack), and he keeps bugging me about 'content'. Apparently, I need to put, I don't know, like pictures or some shit up on my new site. I said, 'bitch please', when he brought this up the other day, and promptly persuaded (read: forced) him to kiss the rings as it were. Maybe soon he'll pull his head out of his ass and just follow me around with a digital camera and put up what comes out of my pie-hole.
Sermon over; soon, all my children will have a new home. Keep on obeying!
First of all, you shouldn't be calling yourselves hardcore. You kids know I hate anything that ends with -core; c'mon, you're better than that. Anyhoo, I wanted everyone to know that there will be some changes in this blog's general vicinity. I've been in talks with some kid with a bad haircut about getting a more formal domain of my own to host the blog. Of course, that may pose a legal snafu, as my content is 'technically' owned by Blogspot, not me. Now, I'm no Barack Obama, but, hey, shouldn't 'freedom' factor into who owns the content that my brain-balls produce? You'd think so, wouldn't you? Anyway, go back and replace 'technically', with 'legally', and you've got a firm grip on the situation.
I don't want to cocktease anyone by posting something that isn't going to happen. Trust me when I say I'm definitely getting my own site. Whether or not it will feature 'classic' Darsh remains a mystery. The only thing standing in my way is that kid with the bad haircut. His name is Justin something or other (he's a Polack), and he keeps bugging me about 'content'. Apparently, I need to put, I don't know, like pictures or some shit up on my new site. I said, 'bitch please', when he brought this up the other day, and promptly persuaded (read: forced) him to kiss the rings as it were. Maybe soon he'll pull his head out of his ass and just follow me around with a digital camera and put up what comes out of my pie-hole.
Sermon over; soon, all my children will have a new home. Keep on obeying!
Saturday, May 2, 2009
My Evil Council
May is officially here, kids! And you know what that means, right? My Evil Council is holding it's annual job fair! Yaaaaaay!!
If you want a job that involves saying 'yes' to everyone you meet for fear of death by crushing, a job that involves robbing people at ATMs with an AirSoft gun, or a job running people over with motorboats, then come on down to the Evil Council job fair! You don't need any experience; all training is on the job. The only requirements are the ability to swing a sack of doorknobs, an open mind concerning the ethics of torture, and positive proof that you are 18 years or older (even if you're not, you should check it out... I've hired some fifteen year olds in my time).
Those lucky enough to be hired by my Evil Council will enter into a world full of adventure, colorful life experience, and painful lessons in learning to respect pimps. Some of the things you'll occupy your nine-to-five shifts with include:
-extortion
-random beatings (of others)
-scheduled beatings (of you, but the schedule is quite flexible!)
-torture seminars
-corporate barbecues
-various shindigs
Please note, however, that an impromptu hanging qualifies as a 'shindig'.
As a henchman under the employ of my Evil Council, you'll not only find rewarding, life fulfilling experiences ahead of you, but also the chance to learn skills that will aid you well into the future, no matter what career you pursue. Many of my former henchmen have gone on to be catholic priests, for instance.
You may be wondering what benefits this job offers.
Moving right along, let's talk about the respect you'll gain in your community when you join my Evil Council. Imagine the swelling of pride you'll feel in your crotch as you walk into a playground full of children, who run away screaming when they see you. Or, imagine how good it will feel to now you've got an ace in the hole when you interview for a corporate job. Nothing will land you a position at Apple, Inc. quite like a recommendation from Dr. Ponzari!*
So come on down to my Evil Council job fair, where all of your nightmares will come true at minimum wage!
*Please note that Dr. Ponzari is not a medical doctor. He is, however, head torturer and my CEO in charge of Laser Development.
If you want a job that involves saying 'yes' to everyone you meet for fear of death by crushing, a job that involves robbing people at ATMs with an AirSoft gun, or a job running people over with motorboats, then come on down to the Evil Council job fair! You don't need any experience; all training is on the job. The only requirements are the ability to swing a sack of doorknobs, an open mind concerning the ethics of torture, and positive proof that you are 18 years or older (even if you're not, you should check it out... I've hired some fifteen year olds in my time).
Those lucky enough to be hired by my Evil Council will enter into a world full of adventure, colorful life experience, and painful lessons in learning to respect pimps. Some of the things you'll occupy your nine-to-five shifts with include:
-extortion
-random beatings (of others)
-scheduled beatings (of you, but the schedule is quite flexible!)
-torture seminars
-corporate barbecues
-various shindigs
Please note, however, that an impromptu hanging qualifies as a 'shindig'.
As a henchman under the employ of my Evil Council, you'll not only find rewarding, life fulfilling experiences ahead of you, but also the chance to learn skills that will aid you well into the future, no matter what career you pursue. Many of my former henchmen have gone on to be catholic priests, for instance.
You may be wondering what benefits this job offers.
Moving right along, let's talk about the respect you'll gain in your community when you join my Evil Council. Imagine the swelling of pride you'll feel in your crotch as you walk into a playground full of children, who run away screaming when they see you. Or, imagine how good it will feel to now you've got an ace in the hole when you interview for a corporate job. Nothing will land you a position at Apple, Inc. quite like a recommendation from Dr. Ponzari!*
So come on down to my Evil Council job fair, where all of your nightmares will come true at minimum wage!
*Please note that Dr. Ponzari is not a medical doctor. He is, however, head torturer and my CEO in charge of Laser Development.
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