Sometimes I get the urge to stop being my dad, get a webcam and start posting on YouTube. And then I remember a few things:
1. 99% of YouTube videos are idiots wasting my time, and the other 1% is corporate-owned stuff that will probably get pulled before I click the link from Google. So unless I post corporate-owned stuff that will soon get pulled, I am bound to post videos of me being an idiot, wasting my own time. Twice over, because I also wasted the time making the video that is a waste of my time. So if I post original content on YouTube, I’ll actually be wasting twice as much of my time as I would just watching your shitty video game reviews. Math keeps me safe yet again, while the Internet yet again wastes my life. Go, math.
2. People only post worthless crap on YouTube to impress their non-Internet friends and to make new Internet friends, and I don’t care about doing either. Most of my non-Internet friends are grownups with grownup lives, so the few that actually have Internet access use it to check headlines and sports scores and maybe email Grandma a reminder about taking her blood pressure medication. They don’t care about YouTube, and so won’t be impressed that I’ve glued myself to it.
And allow me to take this opportunity to make a general point about this whole “Internet friends” business. THERE IS NO SUCH THING AS AN INTERNET FRIEND. See, a friend is a person you are emotionally involved with. And you cannot involve yourself emotionally with a guy named GamrD00d7 whose photo is Kaneda’s motorcycle. I don’t care how much you both like Naruto. Dear God, I really don’t. Liking the same bukkake stain anime is not an emotional connection – it is a shared symptom of the stupid.
No one on the Internet is your friend, nor can they ever be your friend. Even if they emoticon you kisses when your dad gets caught taking pictures at the daycare and earns his rapper’s motivation. An emoticon kiss is not an emotional connection – it is a colon followed by an asterisk in cold, apathetic digital font. You have no idea if the person means it. You can’t tell what they’re actually feeling. There’s no emotional involvement here. I type “ROTFL” five or six times an hour. I have never “rolled on the floor, laughing” once in my entire life, and I never will. It’s just my way of showing approval for people who post phrases like “ass-clown,” “penis stench” and “weapons-grade douche rocket.” And half that time, I’m being sarcastic. And for some reason, here on the Internet, the largest playpen for cynical jerk-off douches in the history of the world, no one has come up with a two character expression conveying insult through pretend. If it's possible that someone is only pretending to care about you to make fun of you, and you have no way of knowing that, then they are not your friend.
If for some reason you’re st00p1d enough to meet up with that person out in the real world, and that person doesn’t turn out to be a twitchy psycho with a razor fetish, and you start hanging out with this person on a regular basis and forge an emotional bond that will stand the test of time and music fads, THEN that person becomes your friend. Not your Internet friend. A non-Internet friend, who you risked your life to meet through the Internet.
Get my point yet, Sparkles? I have no interest in making “Internet friends” through YouTube, because one cannot make something that is not an actual thing. Like well-adjusted kids. Or a happy, life-long marriage. Or an original YouTube video that doesn’t waste my time.
And no, I also do not want to make any non-Internet friends through the Internet. Reread the sentence I just typed about the psycho razor fetish thing. Five years ago the only people who posted genuine personal information and/or photos online were your mother, and then the credit card company called wondering when she was going to start paying off that $5,000 in Arabic cell phone cards. As the Internet has expanded and gotten faster, has it gotten any safer? Um, do diseases manifest superhero powers as symptoms after the 200,000th victim? Yet now people not only have no fear of exposing themselves to dangerous strangers, they go to a handful of websites specifically designed to allow them to do this.
I just don’t get it. Of course, I don’t like CBS either, so maybe I’m just a rapist. Who can now come to your house, because you posted your address on FaceBook. Way to go, Fuckmotor.
3. YouTube is populated by inarticulate suburban children between the ages of 12 and 20, because no one younger has anything to post about, and everyone older and poorer has actual things to do. And if there’s one thing I hate more than spoiled WASPy teenagers screeching half-rational opinions about things they don’t understand, it’s their fucking pop music. This is why YouTube has those moron AI filters and moron actual people who spend all day going through the videos and deleting every single one that shows boobs. Legally and morally, children can’t see boobs. I am an adult, however, so I can legally and morally see boobs. So why would I bother with a site where boobs are banned so that the millions of children trading prescription drugs around the digital sandbox won’t learn what a nipple looks like before the state mandates it? You remove boobs, and you’ve removed any interest I may have had in whatever you’re doing. Not that I need to see boobs all the time (WANT is another thing…). What I’m saying is, by banning boobs, you’re telling me you cater to children. And I’ll say the same thing to you that I’ve said to bartenders in “family pubs:” “If I want to get messed up around children, I’ll get off my ass and go start a family. What’s my tab? I’m going to the adult toy store down the street.”
Not necessarily because I need a new Fleshlight. Just because it’s the only place left on the PLANET where two CBS viewers who couldn’t be bothered to “Scotchgard the couch” a couple of times can’t wander in and silently expect me to make sure their spawn don’t crack their heads open on their bad parenting when I’m already too drunk to care. Well, that and the liquor store. But ask to buy a pocket pussy there and your name goes on this list.
4. To shoot anything I’d be happy posting for all the world to see, I’d have to write out a script and edit the footage so I don’t end up looking like you. I type everything now, so it seems like making a YouTube video would be exactly what I’m already doing, plus a whole lot more work. If I just post what I write, and you read it, you’ll be getting exactly what I would be reading on camera, except without my fat face reading it. So why the fuck would you want to see it reading anything?
No one spits on me on the street, at least since I stopped wearing that Ann Coulter t-shirt. But I’m certainly not intriguing to look at. Jack Black and Kevin Smith aren’t either, but people like watching them because they’re funny. Allegedly. You are presently enjoying the extent of my “funny,” so there’s no reason for my head to appear in Flash video. Sorry, fat guy antics from me.
Unless I’m over-caffeinated or drunk. Which leads me to my last point.
5. I’ve ruined my own shit before by sending emails while under the influence of various behavior-altering substances. I'm not going to give myself the chance to do the same thing with Flash video. You’re all very lucky I have this kind of foresight, too. A Bluesader rolling on four tea-and-whiskeys is a Bluesader rolling without his pants.
I hope you all appreciate what I do for you people. You should all be sending me money. I mean, in general. But ESPECIALLY for me not letting you see me naked.
Wait, let me rephrase that. Send me money, or I’m going to take my pants off and dance around on YouTube. Any sense of shame was beaten out of me a long time ago, so this will only hurt you. I’m not kidding here. Let’s see those PayPal numbers, people.
Hmm. Maybe YouTube isn’t so bad after all…
1. 99% of YouTube videos are idiots wasting my time, and the other 1% is corporate-owned stuff that will probably get pulled before I click the link from Google. So unless I post corporate-owned stuff that will soon get pulled, I am bound to post videos of me being an idiot, wasting my own time. Twice over, because I also wasted the time making the video that is a waste of my time. So if I post original content on YouTube, I’ll actually be wasting twice as much of my time as I would just watching your shitty video game reviews. Math keeps me safe yet again, while the Internet yet again wastes my life. Go, math.
2. People only post worthless crap on YouTube to impress their non-Internet friends and to make new Internet friends, and I don’t care about doing either. Most of my non-Internet friends are grownups with grownup lives, so the few that actually have Internet access use it to check headlines and sports scores and maybe email Grandma a reminder about taking her blood pressure medication. They don’t care about YouTube, and so won’t be impressed that I’ve glued myself to it.
And allow me to take this opportunity to make a general point about this whole “Internet friends” business. THERE IS NO SUCH THING AS AN INTERNET FRIEND. See, a friend is a person you are emotionally involved with. And you cannot involve yourself emotionally with a guy named GamrD00d7 whose photo is Kaneda’s motorcycle. I don’t care how much you both like Naruto. Dear God, I really don’t. Liking the same bukkake stain anime is not an emotional connection – it is a shared symptom of the stupid.
No one on the Internet is your friend, nor can they ever be your friend. Even if they emoticon you kisses when your dad gets caught taking pictures at the daycare and earns his rapper’s motivation. An emoticon kiss is not an emotional connection – it is a colon followed by an asterisk in cold, apathetic digital font. You have no idea if the person means it. You can’t tell what they’re actually feeling. There’s no emotional involvement here. I type “ROTFL” five or six times an hour. I have never “rolled on the floor, laughing” once in my entire life, and I never will. It’s just my way of showing approval for people who post phrases like “ass-clown,” “penis stench” and “weapons-grade douche rocket.” And half that time, I’m being sarcastic. And for some reason, here on the Internet, the largest playpen for cynical jerk-off douches in the history of the world, no one has come up with a two character expression conveying insult through pretend. If it's possible that someone is only pretending to care about you to make fun of you, and you have no way of knowing that, then they are not your friend.
If for some reason you’re st00p1d enough to meet up with that person out in the real world, and that person doesn’t turn out to be a twitchy psycho with a razor fetish, and you start hanging out with this person on a regular basis and forge an emotional bond that will stand the test of time and music fads, THEN that person becomes your friend. Not your Internet friend. A non-Internet friend, who you risked your life to meet through the Internet.
Get my point yet, Sparkles? I have no interest in making “Internet friends” through YouTube, because one cannot make something that is not an actual thing. Like well-adjusted kids. Or a happy, life-long marriage. Or an original YouTube video that doesn’t waste my time.
And no, I also do not want to make any non-Internet friends through the Internet. Reread the sentence I just typed about the psycho razor fetish thing. Five years ago the only people who posted genuine personal information and/or photos online were your mother, and then the credit card company called wondering when she was going to start paying off that $5,000 in Arabic cell phone cards. As the Internet has expanded and gotten faster, has it gotten any safer? Um, do diseases manifest superhero powers as symptoms after the 200,000th victim? Yet now people not only have no fear of exposing themselves to dangerous strangers, they go to a handful of websites specifically designed to allow them to do this.
I just don’t get it. Of course, I don’t like CBS either, so maybe I’m just a rapist. Who can now come to your house, because you posted your address on FaceBook. Way to go, Fuckmotor.
3. YouTube is populated by inarticulate suburban children between the ages of 12 and 20, because no one younger has anything to post about, and everyone older and poorer has actual things to do. And if there’s one thing I hate more than spoiled WASPy teenagers screeching half-rational opinions about things they don’t understand, it’s their fucking pop music. This is why YouTube has those moron AI filters and moron actual people who spend all day going through the videos and deleting every single one that shows boobs. Legally and morally, children can’t see boobs. I am an adult, however, so I can legally and morally see boobs. So why would I bother with a site where boobs are banned so that the millions of children trading prescription drugs around the digital sandbox won’t learn what a nipple looks like before the state mandates it? You remove boobs, and you’ve removed any interest I may have had in whatever you’re doing. Not that I need to see boobs all the time (WANT is another thing…). What I’m saying is, by banning boobs, you’re telling me you cater to children. And I’ll say the same thing to you that I’ve said to bartenders in “family pubs:” “If I want to get messed up around children, I’ll get off my ass and go start a family. What’s my tab? I’m going to the adult toy store down the street.”
Not necessarily because I need a new Fleshlight. Just because it’s the only place left on the PLANET where two CBS viewers who couldn’t be bothered to “Scotchgard the couch” a couple of times can’t wander in and silently expect me to make sure their spawn don’t crack their heads open on their bad parenting when I’m already too drunk to care. Well, that and the liquor store. But ask to buy a pocket pussy there and your name goes on this list.
4. To shoot anything I’d be happy posting for all the world to see, I’d have to write out a script and edit the footage so I don’t end up looking like you. I type everything now, so it seems like making a YouTube video would be exactly what I’m already doing, plus a whole lot more work. If I just post what I write, and you read it, you’ll be getting exactly what I would be reading on camera, except without my fat face reading it. So why the fuck would you want to see it reading anything?
No one spits on me on the street, at least since I stopped wearing that Ann Coulter t-shirt. But I’m certainly not intriguing to look at. Jack Black and Kevin Smith aren’t either, but people like watching them because they’re funny. Allegedly. You are presently enjoying the extent of my “funny,” so there’s no reason for my head to appear in Flash video. Sorry, fat guy antics from me.
Unless I’m over-caffeinated or drunk. Which leads me to my last point.
5. I’ve ruined my own shit before by sending emails while under the influence of various behavior-altering substances. I'm not going to give myself the chance to do the same thing with Flash video. You’re all very lucky I have this kind of foresight, too. A Bluesader rolling on four tea-and-whiskeys is a Bluesader rolling without his pants.
I hope you all appreciate what I do for you people. You should all be sending me money. I mean, in general. But ESPECIALLY for me not letting you see me naked.
Wait, let me rephrase that. Send me money, or I’m going to take my pants off and dance around on YouTube. Any sense of shame was beaten out of me a long time ago, so this will only hurt you. I’m not kidding here. Let’s see those PayPal numbers, people.
Hmm. Maybe YouTube isn’t so bad after all…
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