Saturday, 18 June 2011

Trolling Before the Internet

We all know what trolling is, it's a art and it's found it's current breeding ground on the internet. Awesome, I say. It's too easy as well, with all these Christi-cunts deciding to take their religion electronically, they provide easy targets on a larger scale if the pickings are slim. There's also YouTube.

Holy dicks people on YouTube react to anything that disagrees with their opinion. "Video sucks", "Kill yourself", "Why make this piece of shit?", "ur mom". They're all simple things to say yet the reactions can be priceless.

So... What the fuck did we do before the internet? Prank calls is an obvious one, but what did you achieve with that exactly? You annoyed someone, you didn't exactly hurt their feelings. And if you took the random phone number route the majority of phone calls were answering machines. And when you did get through, what could you say? You didn't know this person, and there's not a lot to attack when it's out of the blue and a total stranger.

The other choice you had was to immerse yourself in a discussion and then out of nowhere disagree with the majority. No anonymity, and there's too much physical pain at stake is there are some roid munchers in the group. There's also the fact that a lot of people can not keep a straight face for a shit. How are you going to convince everyone that you think abortion is the only answer when you can't help but laugh at your own (awesome) self?

Fuck that.

So where else does this leave you? You could write a letter. Awesome, right? Some fat fuck gets a letter, and gets all giddy, "what does it say?", he asks while chewing on his burger. He opens it up and it reads "you are fat, lol".

Day ruined.

The sucky part? You don't see the reaction, you don't see anything (unless you're looking through his window as he opens the letter, in which case, you're fucked up), and you can't feel his anger and frustration to get that little kick you want. You could leave your name and address (or better, someone else's) so some sort of response can be given. That would take out the anonymity part but fuck it. That's dedication.

There is another issue though. It's 2011 and it still takes a few days for letters to be sent and delivered. Back before the internet (which was before the 1800's, right?) I'm guessing this would be a lot slower. I know I would have forgotten about the letter I sent a few minutes later anyway, but the suprise of getting your reply would make it that much sweeter in retrospect.

So before the Royal Mail? Messenger pigeons. Sent to the kings and queen's of the enemy. Some princess cunt would get a pigeon turn up, shit herself from excitement, and read the troll-message, possibly saying "I'd rather suck my dad off instead of sleeping with you." In fact, how many wars do you think were started this way?

All of them.

Sunday, 22 May 2011

Changing the Tone

No, I'm not going to stop swearing on here. I like to and I will continue to do so when I feel the need is there. That said, I'm not going to churp in a swear word like those cutting edge humour enthusiasts who say "I am sick of people fucking swearing!", and they exaggerate the "fucking" part to demonstrate how awesome they are. Well done. You have somehow reduced my overall expectation of the human race that little bit more.

The point of this blog post is pretty simple, I'm going to slag off some football fans, mainly revolving around the news that Sunderland finished ahead of Newcastle on the closing day of the season. The reason being is that this has went against the overall internet concept that Newcastle will finish ahead of Sunderland, proving that the smaller (as in, surface area) club will forever be in Newcastle's shadow. It looked a dead cert, as well, as Sunderland needed a win away from home and Newcastle needed a win at home. Both games against similar skilled opposition. If you're familiar with football, then you'll realise away games can prove to be much more difficult than home games, and it doesn't matter how bad the other team are in reality.

We managed to prove that over the course of a season, we are better than them. I don't think anyone can deny this, if a team finishes ahead of you, they're better than you. I would happily admit this if Newcastle finished ahead of Sunderland, I really would. For 38 games in the season, one team grabbed more points. And Newcastle fans should know this, as they have finished ahead of us a few times in the last ten years. And have gladly pointed out how much better they are because of that fact. So why is it, when we do better than them, they have to shell out every bit of evidence to deny it?

Like seriously, in the past two hours, all I have heard is how much they've outdone us over the last decade, how they beat us 5-1 at their place, and how they beat teams like West Ham 5-0 and Aston Villa 6-0. When they outdo us after a seaon, they harp on about how then is the time that counts, that Premier League table. Yet when the Premier League table disagrees with their claims of superiority, it's all about what happened in the past.

Let's bring up the past then. Sunderland have had more top-flight trophies than Newcastle in our entire history. We beat them 9-1 at their ground at one point. We finished ahead of them two seasons in a row in 2000 and 2001. We finished ahead of them the last time they came into the Premier League. Even in the Championship (or old Division One) we have got more points than them. And I bet if a Newcastle fan is reading this now, the general consensus will be "but that happened in the past".

My response is "exactly."

So why the fuck bring up the past when we have one little victory? One little victory, let us have it. If we're "foreverinyourshadow" as Twitter would suggest (forgot the hash tag, oops!), then why can't we have this victory?

I'll be looking forward going into work, in Newcastle, and not having to listen to absolute patter. Although I still will, because even if I keep my mouth shut (which I did when they got relegated), I still get roped into a Sunderland vs Newcastle debate. The main reason I care about us finishing higher is because I've spent the year listening to how Newcastle are still a big club, and deserve to be in the Champions League, and will be challenging for top four status from next season and the rest.

So fuck off. This season we were the overall better team. If the league was based off of one result, we'd be 2nd. We beat Chelsea 3-0. But the league isn't decided that way. So fuck off some more.

Tuesday, 3 May 2011

Phone Net-not-works

Picture this. It's 3:30am and I have to be up for work in 2 hours. I haven't stayed up this late. In fact, I had my bath at 9pm and crawled into bed at 11pm like a little bitch and waited to drift off... That was, until I didn't drift off at all. I watched the clock trickle away until the early hours of the morn while I failed to get to sleep. I didn't have anything on my mind and I hadn't consumed large quantities of caffeine. Why the shitting tits was I not falling asleep?

Maybe that question was keeping me awake. Shitting tits? Nightmare for anyone. Disregard that for sanity. I've decided to venture onto my phone for some late night entertainment (not the stuff that requires tissues and low self-esteem), including Facebook (yay!) and some of my favourite websites. This was all a good idea until I re-realised that I have literally the most shitty, deceptive network coverage in the existence of mankind. Full signal 3G connection? So fuck because it doesn't want to load five bits of text and an image.

That's too difficult at this time of night.

So great. It's now 3:33am and I can't even at least enjoy the build up to my over-tired first day at work from an awesome week off. What makes it more horrible is the lack of common sense used when creating the Facebook app that I'm using. Sure, it can tell you how many notifications you have, and who the latest one was by, but clicking on that pop-up only displays the last set of notifications you ever loaded, refusing to load the new ones because the network can not be fucked to deal with the request. Great.

Let's play some fucking solitaire then. Going great until I realise the three games I have played are unwinnable. Y'see, it turns out this game puts a little star in the corner when a game is winnable. It uses the network to determine which games are winnable, and the games without this star is pretty much "Try your luck, cuntnugget". I think we can all see why I wanted to kick the shit out of some satellites this morning. I think I stumbled upon one winnable game in the next 20 minutes.

And holy shit I think I somehow managed to fall asleep. Only to be woken up by a text...

... That was timestamped for around 5pm. A text that I should have got about 10 hours ago has just woken me up because a mobile phone network provider can't get its shit together. Thank you very much, for those keeping count, it's taken me almost 5 hours more to fall asleep then I should have. THOSE FIVE HOURS WOULD HAVE BEEN AWESOME, FYI.


Monday, 2 May 2011

Modesty and Dickbaggery (revised mid-blog to hate on Facebook)

Modest? The fucking hell I am. What am I modest about?

... I'll get back to you on that one. Anyway, welcome to the first blog post in what seems like a fucking century. Three months have passed and I still haven't learned anything. I have, however, reaffirmed that: 1) Facebook sucks, 2) Facebook causes more drama, and 3) Why the fuck am I nineteen and I'm only realising this shit now?

Back to the subject at hand... Actually no, I don't like where this is going. This is now about Facebook and it's firm grip on the adolescents of today, and why they're fucking up the best things in their life as a result. I'll go over some simple shit straight off... Today's youth are all partaking in something only about 5% of us are good at, and something that results in tears, death, and not being invited to the prom by that super hot hot guy who is super hot. Or that super hot hot gal who is super hot (for the straight people, or lesbians).

Guessed it? No? Good, because my description gave you shit all to work with. It's a popularity contest. Determined by photo comments, status likes and wall posts by people that don't actually give a fuck about you. There are tactics to "win" this contest however, and while some people can see straight through this, others can't. And they're the ones who are participating and who will get distraught by the seemingly unexplainable results.

The most common tactic I see is this: add fucking everyone. I think the average person will pretty much regularly get a certain percentage of their friends liking their statuses. This is great, feel good about yourself. For someone like me, with about 200 friends, between 2 and 5 people interacting on my status isn't unusual. That's between 1% and 2.5% of my friends.

Now we all see this guy, he gets about 15 to 30 people interacting with his statuses. To someone participating in the popularity contest, this is grounds for shitting ones pants. But fear not, you cunt. This guy has 3000 friends! Do the math you bum. That's 0.5% to 1%. To me, that doesn't seem like he's gaining anything, all that means is that per every 100 people who defaced their vision with his status, only 1 of them gave a shit at best. How many people do you see in real life and talk to regularly? That's right. It won't be more than a hundred. Carry on with your life, you fuck.

Another common tactic... The anti-troll. The people pleaser. The dick something (I'm running out of words). This ties in perfectly with the above tactic by the way. Post a status that absolutely fucking everyone will fucking agree with. Optimum facebook popularity in one sentence. And if you don't like that tactic, you can always post "when you..." statuses. They work.

Photos, you say? They're normally gender specific, and I won't go into too much detail (cleavage, clout etc), mainly because I don't care and don't have the time. But always mention that you're ugly. But don't if you actually are. You see, if you say you're ugly when you're not, then retards are inclined to correct you because you're obviously not. It's science.

So there you have it. I've gave the drama queens and drama kings (male drama queens) some advice on how to win this piece of shit battle, and hopefully convinced some ugly people to use Facebook for its true purpose: perving, showing your "friends" how cool your night out was, and arranging house parties at other people's houses without their knowledge.

Or socialising.

Sunday, 30 January 2011

First and Lasting Impressions

First impressions? Fuck 'em. People should have about 12 at their disposal. Except the guy whose first impression was being walked in on fucking the family parrot. Condemn him, I say. But no, I say people should have more than one impression to make (but not like fucking God mode on that awesome PS1 Die Hard Trilogy), simply because, and contrary to popular belief, people do change. Not the fucking douchebags from school, they often stay the same, only differences being they aren't as douchey because it's hard to have so much energy at the age of 82.

People who genuinely intend to do good with their life, and do good by other people (this isn't the bible, don't close your tab yet), actually learn how to be a better person. Then you have the people more like me, where it takes an emotional kick to the godly belows to actually make that change. But it's change nonetheless.

So yeah, one fuck up in a five minute conversation with that girl with an awesome rack can be the difference between shoving your head in there and lying in bed by yourself, playing with yourself... You will probably never see her again, and when you do, she won't want to talk to you, because y'know, you accidentally told her you kidnap kids for a hobby.

And who knows? Maybe that could have been the start of something special (if A: she kidnapped kids, too. Or B: you didn't tell her you did). So a second chance seems like an awesome tool to have, no?

I'll share a few random links so this doesn't seem like a shitty wall of text.
5 Terrifying Online Trends
How to Make Your Facebook Ten Times More Awesome (by following a tutorial a million other people have done)
Random Software Helper
And a film I REALLY want to see if it is ever made

Saturday, 22 January 2011

Sleep Deprivation

Sounds bad, doesn't it? Going to work when you feel like you need another three week's worth of sleep? Well this isn't going to be one of those bastardly cheesey posts where I go "LOLNO." It is a bad thing, people prove this all the time by fucking shit up while they're really tired. In fact, I'm inclined to agree that the Iraqi war was a direct result of some tired fuck not getting his shit together and telling Corporal Insurgentfucker the wrong shit. Fuck you, private.

The fact is this, if you find yourself balls deep in your eight hour sleep every night, you will miss out on shit. The best things in your life will happen after 12am, fact. I have no sources for that information so have a picture of someone's face.

It's 12am here.

This isn't to say that you should go get mortal drunk every night of the week. You will get fired from your job and then you won't be able to afford your precious lifestyle. Don't be a dick. Back to the point of getting 8 hours sleep... A lot of people work at least 37.5 hours each week, that's 7.5 hours a day in a 5-day working week, and 8 hours spent at work if you're entitled to lunch. I fucking love lunch.

Now, let's assume it takes you at least half an hour to get to work, and at least half an hour to get ready for work. There's 9.5 hours of the day wasted on work straight away. That leaves 14.5 hours of your day left, take away those 8 hours sleep and you have 6.5 hours of your day to yourself. What the fuck are you going to do in 6.5 hours? Fuck all if I'm honest. Family time, maybe a quick drink in a pub?

But then you'll look like a fucking faggot if you leave at 9:00pm for your bath and bed. You fag.

In the interest of having an awesome social life, sleep deprivation is a fucking brilliant idea. Make it all up at the weekend, because apparently you can bank sleep. No excuses now, you wuss.

Tuesday, 18 January 2011

Darren (Fucking) Bent

If you're not from Sunderland England. Fuck it, if you don't like football (lol, soccer) then you won't know what the fuck's going on. Some shit on this page might bring you up to speed. To summarise, this guy betrayed his fans and lead them to believe he wanted to stay at the club forever. He's a traitor and a backstabber. But before I go on any further, let me make something clear. No he fucking isn't.

A wild Judas appears!

In case you're not familiar with the world of professional footballing, they do this shit to make a living. A very expensive one at that, but a living nonetheless. Who's that retard who took a job that paid less, made him move further away from home, to do exactly the same thing when his original job wasn't threatened in the first place? Oh, that's right! Absolutely no-one.

What's happened is that fans and enemies alike have went fucking batshit crazy over this little bit of news. Branding him a traitor and money hungry bastard. I'm guessing there's a shit ton of racism going on, too. Which actually happened to his mother, by his own fans. Well done.

What everyone seems to forget (that's polite for, "everyone's too retarded to see") is that Sunderland sold him for £18,000,000, potentially rising to £24,000,000. I mean, holy shit. He hasn't necesserily played well this season and the team is getting enough money to build a small army. I call dibs on France.

Something else everyone seems to forget (again, polite for "how did you read this much without getting distracted by your mouse cursor, you fucking spacker?"), is that player's agents rule the football world. Deals are always made behind managers and even players backs, then a ton of bullshit happens making the player feel unwanted and he sees moving as the best option. Oh, and the glorious amounts of money. We can't forget that.

End of the day? He put a small team in the limelight, played well and actually got his departure over with within two days. Compare this to other players who drag this shit out for months. He only did what everyone would fucking do if given the chance.

Oh yeah, some guys win the lottery and retire from work. You bastards.

Monday, 17 January 2011

Working Out

This isn't going to be that long (in before that's what she said). Working out is overrated, right? Wrong. And no, this isn't going to be one of those rallying calls where I try get all you fatties to get in shape. My life is shit (shock/horror), and I've kinda found out that working out actually makes you feel better about yourself. No, seriously! A bunch of virgins have confirmed this! I think so anyway, I didn't even read the link. That's classed as journalism, right?

This is only here to break up the article a bit.

I've discovered something though. It's shit hard to motivate yourself to exercise unless something pisses you off, or... Pisses you off some more. If a fatty thinks their life is grand, balancing Mars Bars on their upper lip until it inevitably falls into their mouth (they get riled up if it falls the other way), then you can't motivate yourself to work out. You're happy with who you are.

Sort of. You just don't know it yet. You eventually find out the hard way when your high school crush looks you in the eye and says, "Look, honey, I could wear your thigh fat as a blanket during the winter to avoid pneumonia". Then this shit pisses you off.
I'm going to take a step into conspiracy, you guys love that shit. And it starts with this: if the whole world starts suddenly getting slimmer and healthier. It means the fucking government is killing your family members to piss you off. Yes you. You personally. This might have repurcussions such as the economy falling flat on its arse. But fuck it. We'll be able to outrun lions when they eventually evolve.

You heard it here first.

Sunday, 16 January 2011

Top 3 Traffic Rages

I think we all know what's going to happen in the next few paragraphs: rage. Fucking loads of it. Enough to fill your back garden. Wait, that's not that big, is it? Fuck it, this is Bono's back garden (that's like Africa or some shit). And a spoiler alert just before we set off... This isn't a top 3, in fact, I'll struggle to think of 3 things anyway.

But if you're that fucking bothered about chronological orders of things that piss me off, count the fucking words in each paragraph to satisfy your needs.

1. The Bastard That Goes Too Slow

We always come across this arsehole. He is everywhere. They're not necessarily old, either. There'll be one guy in the slow lane doing about 50mph, out of a possible 70mph. This is fine, he's in the slow lane, fair play to him. But then you have this guy:

I just googled the word, "douche". In case you're wondering.

This guy will either match the first guy or go one better... By going slower. You end up with a fast lane reminiscent of your home street. The plus side is that you have enough time to brake and not go through the back of his car if he were to perform an emergency stop. The negative side is that you actually want to go through his car if he were to perform an emergency stop. Yeah, he's that douchey that he doesn't deserve to live. I can handle turning up to work late, but stop me getting home so I can have an exceedingly average afternoon? Then fuck you.
2. The Bastard That Goes Too Fast

Now you're thinking "What?". Or maybe you're not. I'm not a mind reader, and if I was, I'd have already coerced Megan Fox into a threesome with me and my dad... He likes Megan Fox and I'd never be a dick to my dad.

 Weirdly relevant.

So yeah, incest aside. This is the guy (or gal) who gets so close to your bumper that you worry if they can even see you there. I'm sure the redness of my car doesn't blend in with the blackness of the tarmac below, and if you're that colour blind then you shouldn't even be on the road. Or alive, as I'm sure confusing red with black defnitely means a major health problem.

The problem is when you can't move out the way, either because you're doing the speed limit and the guy in the lane next to you is, too. Or because you're most likely in a single lane road and he's a fucking douche.

You're fucking damn right I googled "douche" again.

3. White Van Drivers (we'll include taxi drivers, too)

This would be awesome.

These guys just fuck the whole chi of driving appropriately. These fuckers insist on abusing the above rage inducing actions, run red lights (which, if you're the guy going through what's green on your side, it's scary seeing this big white van come hurling towards you when it fucking shouldn't be) and do all this Matrix motorcycle chase scene shit, changing lanes when it suits them. You can't predict the next movement of these guys. But you can narrow it down to something douchey, which isn't much use, but whatever...

And they like to use their phones. Whilst hurtling down some tarmac at 90mph, avoiding cars like they're out-driving a fucking earthquake or some shit (think 2012, driving through a collapsing building included). And eventually they crash some time and blame the other fucking guy who the only thing he did wrong was not check his mirrors in the split second it took them to fuck up his shit.

The worst thing? The entire country of England blames young drivers for their insurance premiums going up. No. Fuck off. It's because this new driver hasn't quite grasped that all the older "experienced" drivers, drive like their life is going to end if they miss out on 5 extra minutes of sitting at home doing fuck all.

And we're onto the next point. I do all these fucking things.

A bit about me...

Hello, before we start, I'm just your everyday guy (no, this isn't the beginning to a Marvel movie) that likes to use the internet for all sorts of reasons: venting anger, social networking, entertainment, and porn. This is what I'll be using this blog for, to an extent (especially the porn).

Life started for me like most kids, by ruining my mother's vagina in the name of her "happiness". That backfired when I brought no happiness into her life, apart from that one time when I smashed my face off the floor because of a retarded bicycle.

Not quite like this.

Moving away from my mother's vagina and her happiness... Although there's probably a direct correlation between the two... That's not for me to find out. More about me then, let's get egotistical as fuck. I live in your standard neighbourhood in England, the stuff I see every day are just that: every day stuff. This won't be a blog about how I 360 degree slam dunked a pigeon through someones kitchen sink. Although that would be fucking awesome.

No. I work those 37.5 hours each week so I can buy shit I like and inebriate myself to the point of half conversations and extended periods of staring at a girl's breasts (while she's watching me do it, that's how I roll).

Oh, and I like to take the piss out of everything I don't like. Now add to that equation: the internet (the internet = anonymity, for those retarded), and you have yourself with a no limit scenario. Fuck that, there's a limit, and that limit is my street address being plastered over the net and my house becoming target practise for people with bricks. Lots of bricks.

Regardless... Religion is a big no for me.I'm not going to go too far into it, and I'm not bothered if people do believe in a guy who created us in his image (we're all cunts, let's put it that way), the only thing that bothers me about religion is that asshole who tries to convert people. Thoughts do not change overnight. It's that simple. So shut the fuck up.

Anyway, fuck this. I'm going to do exceedingly average on Black Ops.