Tuesday, September 20, 2011

The Internet Thinks You're Rich

      What a strange world we live in and by proxy the sexy, sexy internet we...internet with. What the fuck do we do on the internet? Seriously. Surf? That's ass hole talk. We need to come up with something better to call it...like "Astronetwebbing". Well, help me out with this...it's a social media interaction, research, exploratory, entertainmentary...reading...sexual stimulation thing for your computer...er...phone...or...both. Oh, and your t.v. Really, what the fuck is it? Anything? I'm getting scared.

The internet. It's everywhere! I think it's in my vagina.

      Unsubstantiated fear aside. The internet is a big, wicked spacious...space thing that you can really be yourself in. You can let lose and indulge almost anything you want, behind the awesome curtain of anonymity. There'a unprecedented anonymity like never before! Say that twelve times without whizzing in your pants. FAIL! Anyway, the internet now allows for even the "occasional user" (read: addicted) to do totally invest in some "me" time. You can call your best friend a "bitch whore" any time you want (behind the facade of an anonymous screen name of course). 

Fuck you ass mongers! From your friend, Anonymous

      So, really, what could be finer, bitch whores? The internet is your friend. It loves you! It shows you directions to your favorite fattening foods, it helps keep your hardly used programs up to date, it protects your identity, it lets you watch your home and the homes of others like a pervert, it even lets you act fake famous to people you think are easily fooled! It's a sweet time to be alive thanks to you, internet. WE WANT TO HUG YOU, INTERNET! Right? Right? Wha? What's wrong, internet? You look confused. Whoa, internet, put the gun down, you're fine. Seriously. Everything's good. You look like you don't know who I am. Don't you recognize me internet? I searched for those fake Dolly Parton nude pictures just yesterday. You really don't remember? Ohh...how you wound me with your unknowing look, internet. You sadden me. SADDEN!


      Yeah, well, it turns out the internet has only been faking it. The bitch. Those dark seedy corridors you built together, that seem to hold all of your friends, pictures, strange obsession with male rock stars from the 80's and your Tampon fan page. It's all lies. All of it, it looks like it's just you and the internet, Right? A kind of bizarre buddy comedy starring you, the internet and...Eddie Griffin? Anyway, it...is not your buddy. In fact, the internet, I'm pretty sure, thinks you are someone else. How do I know? Well, have you looked aat the internet lately? I mean...really looked? It's really strange in here.

For instance...this is the internet's colon. Fascinating. 

      Well, for one thing...the internet seems to think you're unemployed. Hey, I know, a LOT of people are unemployed...but, are all of them general managers or vice presidents? I mean, upper management successful? Did a shit ton of middle management in America get raked over the "you're fucking fired" coals? If you look on job posting sites on the internet...that's all they're asking for. That and fucking scientists of one stripe or another. You don't see low level flunky jobs proliferating in these lists. Jobs that I know a lot of people actually have. Which leads me to believe...that the internet thinks everyone is an out of work regional manager. You know, the dick nose manager that always works at an undisclosed office location somewhere and threatens to come in...just so everyone cleans up the place, but, never shows up? That's us. Again, don't get me wrong, there's a lot of those out there...but, is it the majority? It's strange. Most of the people I know...in real life that use the internet...all the time, are working class hourly types who never get to meet the regional manager because he's a rich uppity prick. Am I wrong here? Why does the internet think I'm successful? I mean, thanks internet...really but, I really would like some realism with my internet.

I'm sorry...the internet doesn't speak to your kind. 
Is your manager around?

      I suppose it makes sense that the internet thinks I'm a successful douche bag, because it seems...that that's all it's ever telling me about. Sometimes, on a whim, I look at the "how to save money" stuff on the internet. An article will pop up that looks interesting. I'll look through it. When I do...I'm flabbergasted. It will tell me shit like, "make sure to put away 10 to 12 percent of your pay check for a rainy day". Really internet? Who the fuck can afford to do that? A regional manager might, but, poor, poory, poor shit poor Elton can't. Fuck you, internet. I hope you saved 10 percent of your balls, because I'm full on kicking you in the rest. Oh, but, it's not just the saving stuff...it's the amount they think that 10 percent is. They figure it's a couple of hundred so, that'll build up to an ginormous amount in no time! Really? Who the fuck are they kidding? Oh, silly, stupid internet. Where do you get your information?

Damnit...now I only have enough to buy everything 
I'll ever need...not everything I ever wanted. Fuck.

      Perhaps, the internet is making assumptions. Hey, I'll admit, there are a lot of people in urban areas, like New York and want not. It's been that way since man first realized that water, cooler than piss, is great to swim in...and piss in. Now, we can't get enough of it and it shows in where most people live. I also understand that rich fuckers live along the water because...as explained up there, EVERY one wants to live near water. The closer to the big drink you are...the more expensive. Somehow...the internet translated that to mean...because everyone lives near water...they must all be rich. Which, according to my bank account...isn't fucking so, internet. There are a few metric tons of humanity overflowing with poorness. It's ridiculous...yet, you think we all have money to burn on things like, frappe-chino three times a day and full body tanning year round. What the shit balls? Am I way off base here? Am I the only one in America whose dirt fucking poor? Is everyone but me able to afford a new lap top every 2 years, buy a new car when the old one is no longer pimping or pay for tranny strippers three days a week instead of four? Has the world spun into Freemoneyville and left me back here in FUCK YOU ELTON!...ville? Dammit, internet.


      So, you think I can afford more than I am able to. I guess I should be kind of flattered. Maybe you thought that this shabby blue t-shirt with the hole in the armpit was designed by Ralph Lauren while he was blown by Tommy Hilfiger. Flattering, but, you'd be wrong, internet. Thanks anyway. You know, maybe you're not so bad, internet. Maybe a little slow but, not...wha? I'm what? I'M STUPID! What the fuck, internet! I thought we were...we...were...Hhheeeeyyyy...I get it now. That's what all those ads for college were all about. The internet thinks we're stupid, folks! It seems like everywhere there are ads about college being thrust in my face like some douchebag frat boy waving his boner at girls hoping for a blow job. What the fuck was with that guy and what the fuck is with you, internet? It's true. College would have been nice, but, for some of us...it wasn't much of an option. We needed to make money, not more teachers acting pretentious, assholish. Some of us worked instead and that's not too bad. Apparently, the internet thinks you need more schooling. What the fuck does it know?! Oh...right...everything...Well, it didn't know it was a mother fucking asshole, but it is!

Well said.

      Look, internet. I'm just a poor bastard, trying to make his way in your unemployed upper management world. I just want a tiny slice of the pie. It seems that might never happen, unless we come up with a compromise internet. Listen, I have an idea...I'll play into your upper management "thing" game with you, internet. Just to make you happy, I'll apply for your jobs, your credit cards, your housing loans...maybe even your colleges. I'll do it as an upper management type though. I'll put in that I make enough money a year to hire a Hispanic maid, but, not a good one...like, an American born version. Then, when the credit cards start to mount up...I'll forward them on to you, because...we're friends, right internet? Right? Oh, come on...awwww...don't be like that. Put the gun down, internet...

Calm down and we'll look for some more Dolly Parton fake nudes...I promise.

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