Introduction
Some people look out the window at the world and sigh heavily, wondering what they can do to make this a better place. We are all glad there are people like this, but we try hard to avoid ever talking to them because they can be really annoying. Besides, it's only a matter of time before they join the Peace Corps or some radical environmental group and are never heard from again, until you see them on the news talking about what an honor it was to be gored by such a magnificent animal as a feral hog. Of course, some of them wake up and become computer programmers, in which case you still don't want to talk to them.
Some people look out the window and think about how much better life would be if they could just replace Al Gore and G. W. Bush with life-size animatronics. Fortunately there are generally bars on these people's windows, although apparently bars do not always do the trick. Let�s hope they decide to upgrade the software soon.
Finally there are those of us who realize that the world is far too broken for us to fix it, which neatly absolves us of the responsibility to do anything like get gored by a feral hog. We are made additionally secure by the knowledge that it is all someone else's fault anyway. We are not sure whose exactly, but that is half the fun. We get to spend all of our time affixing blame to this or that person or group. I say it is all the feral hogs' fault, and I think most people would probably not disagree. They would, however, laugh hysterically. At least I hope so.
As a member of the younger generation, it is my job to be cynical. Unfortunately this is not an actual paying job, unless of course you write about it, but no one's application is ever turned down. Well, almost no one's. If yours was, give my love to the feral hogs, and I mean that figuratively, you whacko.
Strangely, I have noticed that while I was still in college I didn't realize what a cold, hard world this is. Everything looked warm and fuzzy, and occasionally there was two of everything, but I now suspect that this was a result of majoring in imported beer. The guys who majored in domestic beer did not seem to share my perspective, though. They just threw up a lot.
Upon entering the "real world," I discovered that there were precious few opportunities in this country for a former drunk and/or stumblebum, especially since the Presidency has been filled. I considered moving to France, but then I would have to learn to smoke cigarettes, eat cheese, and ignore tourists all at the same time, and they keep getting stuck in my teeth. The cigarettes, that is, not the tourists. Their reflexes are too fast for me.
So I decided to stick with my strengths and expound on my uniquely warped world view in this blog. While at first glance my postings may not appear to be particularly coherent, I recommend reading them after drinking a substantial amount of your preferred alcoholic beverage and staying up until 2:00 a.m. This will put you into the same frame of mind I was in when I wrote them, and they will suddenly make very good sense to you.
As time goes on and my archive grows, I caution you against reading my collected posts all in one sitting, as prolonged hysterical laughter at that hour is generally described as "maniacal," and could get you into trouble. On the other hand, if you still do not find them the least bit funny, then kiss Esther for me, or whatever cutesy name you have given your pet feral hog.
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