To All My Enemies

Do you believe in God? Then believe that I wake up every day and eat the shit outta some oranges. Because that’s reality. Breakfast is crucial. I’m talking spinach, eggs, and if I got some extra, then you know I got some mushrooms. Because I work too hard to not to. Ya feel me? That’s why I last weekend I got my Tercel detailed. Shampooed seats and everything. Because no matter who you think you are, the blind stares of a million pairs of eyes still judge. I don’t care who you think you are. I don’t care if you think you a lawyer. How you gonna be a man in a dirty Tercel?

TEACHER LIFE is a lifestyle. We got stress and character flaws that come from our lifestyle just like any other lifestyle. That's why I got fans in my trunk. I could be the best teacher anybody ever seen if given the chance, the opportunity, the experience, and the lessons from the people. I could be the best. But, right now, I don’t even wish to be the best, I just wanna be one of ‘em.

Now when I came out, I told you this was just about teachers in sweater vests with jobs. Then everybody had to open their mouth with an opinion. Well, this is how we gonna do this:

FORGET TEACHERS IN SWEATER VESTS. FORGET TEACHERS WITH JOBS. AND IF YOU WANNA BE DOWN WITH TEACHERS IN SWEATER VESTS THAT GOT JOBS, THEN FORGET YOU TOO! ALL YOU SWEATER VESTERS, FORGET YOU TOO!

And to all you still not getting it, visualize what you can't see--because you don't know shit about teaching, and you don't know shit about me. I'm a business man. I'm here to make money and bring change. This ain't a game. If this was chess, I'd be yelling "checkmate" three years ago. This is TEACHER LIFE. Tercel drivin' til we die!

Red No. 40 is the New Vitamin D

The cover story in this Sunday's Chicago Tribune is on the potential harm of artificial food coloring. Supposedly, research suggests that the synthetic hues used in food are linked to rashes and attention disorders, especially in children. This infuriates me. I’ve eaten colorful food-like stuff my entire life and…wait, what was I writing about?

Anyways, the title of the article asks, "Are Food Dyes Worth the Risk?" Duh! People, come on already. You can’t live your life in a cave and expect to become the star of car insurance commercials. You have to go out and take risks. Besides, it’s not even that big a deal. I mean, if it just affects kids, who cares? They don’t have jobs. They aren’t the president.

For those of you concerned about "the future," allow me to give you a scientific history lesson. Humans evolved. The ones who survived were good. The ones who died were bad or old. At one point in time, every person was lactose intolerant. Then, some genius was born with a mutation that allowed that genius to consume animal milk without puking. That genius had sex with lots of people. This filled the planet with milk-drinking humans. This is how we came to be. It’s called survival of the best, and it makes us better, attractiver, and smarterer people (trust me, cave chicks were not that hot). My point is, we should be encouraging genetic mutations, not playing it safe. And yes, there are still people who are lactose intolerant today, but they are ugly.

Nowadays, you have all these books saying this and that about food. And they do it to the movies too. All that stuff is nonsense! In the movies, the real ones, do you see people in the future eating vegetables? No, only food from tubes. The next thing you know, these "authors" will be telling us we shouldn’t be eating the packaging the food comes in! I got to hand it to Morgan Spurlock though. That guy was on to something. Still, he was too weak. People like him need to die. If you can’t flourish on a diet of McDonald’s and Go-Gurt, that's fine, but don't get in the way of superhuman evolution. Besides, we need to protect the food product industry. If it disappears, how are we supposed to eat? What jobs will we have? You can’t expect people to farm in ties and pant suits. And even if we did farm, how would we know when to stop? And what if it rains?

Blue No. 1 and Orange B are not killing me. They are making me, you, and our species stronger. And if I have to endure some itching, so be it. I just hope that my dietary commitment to the superhuman is enough to combat the ill intentions of those who eat food that comes out of the ground.

You Can't Blog Your Way into Heaven

I don’t like writing. Many people find this odd. After all, I have a blog. But to me, my reluctance to writing is perfectly logical. I don’t like it.

It hasn’t always been this way. I used to like nothing more than to write. In high school, I was recognized for my ability to write about grapes. In college, I started my own news publication.

Then I reached the pinnacle of the writing world—I became a blogger, eventually blogging on the highest level, the Internet. There, reality began to tear away at the fantasy world I had created, making me exactly like anyone who’s ever thought something was a good choice and then found it’s really not (e.g., the grown man who performs Britney Spears showcases at family parties; the kids who major in communication more than once).

I dreamed of the day that I would share a cyber space with like-minded grocery clerk revolutionaries, basking in the expression of hackneyed ideals, only to find that the only parts of our minds that were alike were the ones devoted to bananas and barefoot running.

Big deal, right? So my life is a lot like everyone’s. Who cares? Except that, in the example I live, the loss of innocence is even more pronounced.

So, after weeks of cultivating the public image of a devout born-again-in-waiting, I have decided to reveal to you some of the putridity that I’ve long known to exist. And I do so with the utmost benevolence. But prepare yourself. What I’m about to tell you is something that even a one-hour Pat Robertson interview couldn’t ever hope to do.

Blogging is escapism. It is the opiate of lost souls. Blogging does not help people grapple with the big issues of existence and purpose. That’s what watching LeBron James play basketball is for.

Oh, sure, there are those who disagree—those who paint blogging as participating in some type of democratic, synergistic woo-ha. And sometimes they are right. Sometimes, blogging achieves something close to truth, justice, and beauty.

But let’s be honest. Most people blog because they don't have King James in their life.

Snuggie Hate Explained

A recent study shows that animosity toward the Snuggie is up nearly 7000 percent from three minutes ago. It’s even bumped religion and sports out of the number one and two spots of things not to bring up at the dinner table. So what’s the deal? Why do we hate on the Snuggie?

• We hate because we’re jealous. We want to be a Snuggie, but we can’t, so we hate. We did the same thing with 2Pac.
  
  
• We hate because we don’t understand. The Snuggie is the Interweb of this generation--we can’t even begin to comprehend how it will change the way we communicate, conduct business, or get our music.
  
  
• We hate because we like to dislike whatever the current decade will be remembered for. Hence, we hate on the Snuggie whenever we aren’t hating on skinny jeans, auto-tune, chicken, or hair cuts.
  
  
• We hate because we aren’t happy with Obama. Maybe he should stop wearing the Snuggie.

Now, if learning has taught me anything, it’s that we need to embrace some stuff. And the Snuggie is one of those stuffs. Plus, unisex fashion that encourages lots of couch time is very U.S. of A. Still wanna hate? Fine, be inpatriotic.

Univercell Upgrade

I got a new phone this week. It was like buying a pair of jeans but twice as hard and reversed. Finding the right jeans is hard because there are buku options. Finding the right cell phone is hard because they only make them for business types and 12-year-old girls. So, unless you happen to be an iPerson, you’re stuck choosing between a device that looks like a cracked-out calculator that invited too many buttons to the party and accidentally shrunk itself with the company ray gun or the cutesy neon square thing that Hello Kitty uses to stay in touch with Goodbye Mouse.

I went with a knockoff iPhone. I call it my jPhone.

The Anti-Family Movement

Due to the overwhelming support I’ve received in response to The Family Deception, I’ve decided to start the Anti-Family Movement.

As previously discussed, families are granted all types of privileges. This is not only dangerous (notice the "lies" in family), it is also unjust. Established groups have organizations that advocate for their rights. Family rights. Gay rights. Warrior rights. That’s cool and all, but where does this leave non-gays, non-warriors, and non-gay warriors?

This is where the Anti-Family Movement comes in. We fight for:

• Logical tax breaks. Parents can claim dependents because they have children. That’s fine, but family-sized refunds should be issued to those without kids.


• Tighter airport security. Families get to go through a special security line. This is almost right. But it needs to be “on ice.”


• Improved public health. If you arrive in public with more than 3 blood relatives, you should pay a toll for sidewalk damage and space pollution.


• New rules of the road. Drivers without family passengers should have higher speed limits and the right to flying cars.


• Fair access to smaller, cheaper (and often better) meals. Maybe I don’t want a steak. Maybe I want four taco nuggets, a grape juice box, and an applesauce cup.

Please support the Anti-Family Movement by wearing a button, designing a float for the upcoming parade, or taking interest in summer work for students that pays $1500 a month.

Why I Blog

Blogosphere custom dictates that bloggers explain why they blog. Here’s what I’ve got so far.

I blog because:

1. I want to find “my voice.” I don’t know where it might be or what it might sound like, but I am determined to find it. I’ve even been putting out ‘missed connections’ in the Chicago Reader. “You: sound like me but have no body. Me: guy who enjoys Keith Sweat jokes. Nooo-baaaaah-dee.”


2. It's therapeutic. Between the death of auto-tune and finding out that Gucci don’t love me, it’s been a rough year. Blogging about the start of my nonprofit escort service and informing the public that children control our minds helps me in these times of despair.


3. Something about self-reflection. Vampires can’t see their reflection—and I’m not a vampire.

There it is. Three good reasons why I blog. If you don’t blog, you should. It would be a shame if I accidentally shanked you in the heart with a sharp piece of wood.

The Family Deception--aka The Truth

Kids. Wow. They're really coming out this summer. Seems like more now than ever. But while kids may look cute, these pint-sized people are not all toys and stickers. Kids need to be fed and taken care of. They are like really expensive pets--but that's nothing compared to their true deceptive nature.

Let me lay it out for you. With kids usually come parents, and that's were the problem begins. Overcrowded roads. Overcrowded schools. An overcrowded planet. These are all the result of people imitating what they see on the Discovery Channel.

Do you know who's behind the Discovery Channel? The Family Party--the original political machine. The Family Party controls all the major media outlets in the world. They even control the New World Order. Don't believe me? Check the Internet. The facts don't lie--and somebody's been lying.

Do you think it's a coincidence that families get all these breaks? Tax breaks. Cheaper admission to theme parks. Access to special locker rooms. Do you know what goes on in family locker rooms? Secret meetings. Secret meetings that only families can attend. And the real trip is that the parents are not the ones in charge. The parents are just the foot soldiers and spokespeople for the Family Party. The rulers of the Family Party are the kids. The younger the kid, the higher their power and status in the Original World Order.

If you see a toddler, you do what I do--run. If you see an infant, pretend it's a bear and play dead. The less physical mobility a kid has, the more powerful their mental magic and mind control.

Wake up! You didn't vote for Obama--you voted for his kids.