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Current Mood: Shitty (sweet Jesus H. Fuck I am witty)

Internet Economics: Supply, Demand & Assholes

Is there a lower form of life than domain squatters? Homeless, war criminals, hepatitis infected meth whores, MBA students, vegans, chiropractors, and pedophiles don’t really hurt anybody. Yes, they are all disgusting waste of humanity who contributes nothing to society (hey, who does?), but they aren’t crapping up the internet like domain squatters do.

For those of you not in the know, domain squatters buy up a bunch of domain names (i.e. sexyretards.com, badmotherfucker.net, jasoncurlesslovestosuckbigblackdicks.com) hoping that someday someone with actual talent, skill, creativity and a life will want to buy those domain names from them. Usually when you go to a site that’s being squatted, all you see is a bunch of ads and a message that says that domain name is for sale. Those dicklickers are domain squatters.

They’re essentially non-real estate speculators. They hold the sole use rights to an intangible object. Its kind of like what the NFL shiteaters did with the term ‘Super Bowl’. Remember a couple years ago when media outlets and bars stopped promoting Super Bowl Parties and Super Bowl contests? Instead it all changed to ‘Big Game In February’ or ‘The Game To Determine The NFL Champion’ or some other semantic bullshit equivalent of the ‘Super Bowl’? That’s because the pieces of shit who run the NFL began vigorously enforcing their trademark on the utterance of the word ‘Super Bowl’ and wanted a cut each time some bar or radio station used that term to promote a party or contest.

They literally own the phrase ‘Super Bowl’.

Domain squatters are worse than that. At least the NFL created the Super Bowl, runs it and actually jumped through the legal hoops to legitimatize their trademark. Domain squatters don’t even do that. They bought up words that they thought people might want to use to start a website and then sat back hoping to fuck them over when those people came looking for them.

Long live opportunistic censorship.

Make Up Turd

Now, I know I am violating my own HIPPAA rights with this post, but please, there is no need to worry about my health. Nor is my life endangered by being held captive and forced to shit against my will. I am perfectly fine and still haven’t crapped on a Saturday since I forced one out on January 3, 2009. The poop you see today is the one I took on Wednesday.

As you will remember, way back then, God and the power company conspired against me yet again, leaving me literally powerless for over 12 hours with no way to make a post. So to show that cocksucking deity and lazy ass utility that they can’t hold me down, I am posting today.

Take that god.

Take that whoever my power company is.

If there one thing I have learned doing this shitty blog project, its that the cornerstone of blogging is to not let anything, including lack of talent, stand between you and posting your insipid trite. Not even God himself can stop mediocre writing from being distributed to the world any more.

Rhymes To Live By

There is no societal problem that can’t be cured by beating a shitty, trite poem into us.

I ain’t got no time to do no fancy, faggoty book learning. Not to get all pedagogical on you, but if it can’t be boiled down into a stanza, made to rhyme and fit on a bumper sticker then it ain’t worth learning.

That’s a fact, jack.

It’s Not Electric, Boogie Woogie Woogie

Bad news everyone, I live in the fucking 3rd world. Flies are walking all over my face and I am either too lazy to swat them away or maybe I don’t notice them or maybe with all my fucking problems flies on my face don’t even register as an issue. My stomach is distended from starvation. Missionaries are telling me I have to give my life over to Christ before they give me some iodine tablets so I can make the water drinkable from the well we and all our dying livestock use to piss and shit in. Of course, that’s when we have stuff in our system to piss and shit out that is.

And most unfalse of all, I had no fucking electricity for 16 hours. That’s why I had no post yesterday. Oh, I shit yesterday– got the picture on my camera to prove it. I was able to pull it up, jerk off to it and marvel at its wonder until the batteries in the camera ran out, but that’s all I could do with it.

It was raining cats and lots of fucking water for like half an hour yesterday. Lightning, thunder, heavy wind, but everything was fine. I was playing at my computer, sitting in front of a space heater because the air conditioner was working so well with lights and T.V.’s still on in every room of the house I had ever been in. The rain lets up, the thunder and lighting stop and that’s when it all died.

Right when the storm passed–no more power. Then an hour after the storm passed; no power. Then two hours after the storm passed; no power. Then 4 hours, then 5, then 16 fucking hours and no power.

Maybe I should move to somewhere where the infrastructure isn’t as old, where the utilities are more stable. Some place with more reliable electrical service than Baghdad. Someplace that has upgraded its electrical grid since Alternating Current was invented.

At the very least I should move to a better part of town. You know, like across the fucking street.

Every house facing mine: Power. 1 block over to the back: Power. 4 houses up the street in either direction: Power. Everyone on my block: Amishville.

So eat today’s turd up people, it may be your last for a while. With my intermittent T.V. availability I saw that a storm’s a coming tonight and this weekend. I really need to get out of this refugee camp.

Categorical Shit

Amazing. Hippocrates, the father of medicine, died almost 2380 years ago. The oldest medical school in the United States is 11 years older than the country itself. In the last 20 years trillions of dollars, milllenia of man hours and countless other resources have been employed in medical research.

But somehow, someway, the most basic, almost fundamental necessity in medicine wasn’t developed until 1997. That’s when the Bristol Scale was first published.

Just think, up until then, physicians had no way to categorize shit. There was no scientific way for doctors to differentiate between a slimy turd (Type 6) and ass piss crap (Type 7). There they were trying to converse with patients about the consistency of their crap and had to use unstandard, rudimentary terms like ‘soft rabbit pellet turds’ (Type 5), ‘hard rabbit pellet turds’ (Type 1), ‘Payday like (Type2)’, and ‘greasy sausage-ish’ (Type 4).

Now though, with the Bristol Scale, describing shit is just like a police lineup for poop. You just look at a few suspects and finger the offending turd.

Bible Pimps

Who would have thought a blog that straight ripped off the bible for its posts would negotiate in bad faith? Well, me really. It was what I was hoping for.

Well, that’s not true, I was hoping they would actually sell out a piece of their blog to me and let me post an ad, just like they offered to do. Unfortunately, you can never trust anyone selling god, government or happiness. Caveat emptor.

About a month ago I bestowed a Porkjerky.com Infrequently Given Shitty Blog Award to Just Give Me The Truth Blog. It was, and still is, creating posts from bible passages–and that’s it. No discussion about them, no examples of how they apply in life today, nothing but bible passages copied and pasted straight from the bible into their blog. Don’t know exactly the point, but I was intrigued when I saw an ad in the top right corner soliciting advertisers for their shitty blog. So I bit.

I sent an email saying I thought it was delicious that they were literally trying to profit from the bible and I wanted to see how morally corrupt they could sink for a dollar. They sent me back an email within 2 hours that said they were all ears. When I hadn’t replied in 4 hours they sent another. They were chomping at the bit for me to make them an offer. So I did.

I offered them $30 for 30 days to run one of the below possible ads that they could choose from:

I told them I could create the ad and give them a deposit within 48 hours of accepting an offer. After 96 hours and no response, I sent them another asking them when we can start my ad campaign. For the last month they have been giving me the run around. Never saying no, never saying yes and very infrequently responding to my messages.

However, the message about placing a banner ad is still up there. So if you want to be my middle man, contact them at kingdom-expansion@cox.netand see if you can buy space on their site and then sublet it to me (jason@porkjerky.com). There could be a shiny new $5 bill in it for you.

Blogarrhea

Oh god, its mutated and jumped, infecting a population we thought couldn’t get it. This is horrible. This might be the end of all media as we know it. Critical mass isn’t far off. Soon every communication will either be blogging or about blogging or about about blogging.

We thought we had it contained. Sure blogging was infecting the web at a rate where all pages of the internet were to be either blogs or about blogs by 2011, but once it did that, we thought that would be the end of it. But its jumped media and is infecting print communication as well. This is horrible.

Because I’m stupid I thought it would be hilarious if I could find 5 or 10 books about blogging. Right? Books about blogging—hilarious. Idiots actually wrote books about an online writing medium. That’s like race car driver taking the subway to the track or a vegan butcher or an Amish tech guy or gay racist. It’s conceivable, but it just doesn’t make sense.

So I to be a god damn witty genius I went to Amazon and searched on ‘blog’ to find a few books about blogging. I would show them off, say how stupid they are, how big my cock is, how gay blogging is, how retarded the authors are for writing books about blogging and just revel in my own ingeniousness for putting it all together.

The jokes on me, my search found 1,263 books for sale. Just when you think you have no more hope for humanity you find this shit out and your opinion of your species reaches a new low. And then it gets worse. 36 of those fucking things aren’t even published yet. Oh, they are still for sale, you can order next year’s must-read about blogging, but those 3 dozen god damn books about blogging aren’t even out.

I was too distraught to try to find out exactly how many people had purchased those books about blogging that have yet to be released. My will to live just can’t take the answer.

Amazingly Amazed

I am amazed at my ability to be amazed at how shitty blogs are. I started this whole crappy section of my site as a tribute to and an example of how horrible blogs are–My whole fucking premise was that blogs suck shit. However, week in and week out I am actually awestruck when I discover something shitty about them.

Its like marrying a stripper and then being surprised when all she wants to do is snort coke and blow random guys. You knew going in that she loved to snort coke and blow random guys, but when you actually see her snorting coke and blowing random guys, you’re still shocked its happening. That’s me and blogs.

And it amazes me that I still find out things about them and go, ‘Jeez, that’s really shitty’.

Case in point, 3 days ago I had another great idea to test my Stay Puff Marshmallow Man Shitty Blog Theory, which states that if you can imagine a horrible idea for a blog, then it already exists, its just a matter of finding a specific example of it. My idea was that there was probably some dumbass who was actually using ebay to sell his shitty blog. The theory held true and I found the yKvz blog.

The posts on it weren’t really posts, but straight AP stories and press releases. That’s all it was. I was fairly certain it’s got some sort of program on the back end that automatically searches the internet for shitty stories to steal and then creates posts with them.

I wondered exactly how prevalent that was. So, I went to Google News, copied in the first paragraph of the first shitty story I could find and searched all blogs for that exact text. It was another punch to the balls. At 1:42 today the AP published a story on Tom Brady’s wife being pregnant, I googled that text at 11:42 and 56 blogs had already stolen that story verbatim and made posts out of it.

That’s amazing. These people are paying for hosting, they are paying for the domain name, they spent either time or money on a program that searches the internet for inane stories to use to automatically make posts. And they did all that all so they could essentially be an internet echo, a crappy story recycler, web filler. Amazing.

Most amazingly, though, is that somehow I am amazed that people would do this. My expectations of the human race are surprisingly low. Time and again, however, humanity always seems to fall short of even those. Amazing.

Smooth As A Crazy Man’s Arms

Is there anything more creepy than a guy with shaved arms? That’s a psychological sign. That dude’s got something wrong with him. Its like being a stripper–nothing is inherently wrong with it, but its a sympton of you being fucked up.

That’s a medical fact.

Ok, you want to be a porn star and do everything you see in movies so that’s why you shave your balls and wax your ass. Gay, the bad kind, but I get that rationalization. Don’t appreciate that you basically bragged about it and brought it up in conversation without being asked, but at least its not as bad as shaving your arms.

Even faggier, but still understandable are your eyebrows which are a little too sculpted for my taste. You’re headed down the slipper slope to crazy town. The most homosexualest but still not definitely psychotic are the dudes that get manicures. Shallow fuck? Yes. Retarded? Definitely. Pyschologically damaged? Inconclusive.

However, when you start shaving your arms, that’s a tough act to justify. That’s not even part of a slippery slope even more—you’ve headed down that hill a couple miles. Its like a teenager who dissects neighborhood animals and constantly talks about and actually sets things on fire—that’s a sign.

A sign you’re fucking crazy.

And not the crazy everyone jokingly talks about like when your grandfather mixes mustard, mayonnaise, ketchup and Worcestershire sauce to put on his fries or when the annoying fat bitch you work with calls herself crazy for staying up until 11:15 last night. Dudes shaving their arms is the bad kind of crazy. The ‘I-wish-my-daddy-loved-me, talk-only-in-self-motivational-platitudes and live-like-GQ-tells-me-how-to-live’ crazy. The bad kind.

Gives me the heebie jeebies just thinking about it. That’s not a spur of the moment idea. Its not like being bored, getting some tweezers and completely covering the handle of your brother’s toothbrush with nose hairs. Shaving your arms is a premeditated act you spent some thought, time and money on. Its an act you went out of your way to do. I assume its something you thought would increase your attractiveness.

How long would it take you to shave your arms?

In your life, I bet you’ve never entertained that idea. Good for you, that’s the correct answer. Those shaven arm fucks have though. So to see how their mind operates, lets work through it. First, I’m going to need some arm shaving razors and appendage shaving gel. Do they even make that stuff? That’s at least an hour on the internet and at Wal-Mart researching and getting the right equipment.

Then I’m going to have to draw a bath—that’s ten more minutes. I’m going to have to spend at least another 10 deciding where to start. From my wrist to my shoulder? That’s going to make the back of my hand look weird. Might as well get that too. And fuck if I’m doing that might was well get the fingers too. That’s going to be a good 10 minutes just getting my fingers and hands, even before I get to my actual arms. The arms themselves should only take 10 minutes total for both. Of course I just know I am going to nick up my elbows and cut that mole on my left forearm. Add another 5 minutes to stop bleeding and cussing.

I completely forgot the 5 minutes I will have to take to do my wrists. I will be so scared and go so god damn slow because I’ll be so nervous about accidentally killing myself. So to get my arms as smooth and silky as a neurotic, OCD baby’s its going to take me 2 hours.

Told you it was a sign of craziness.

A Boy, His Anus And A Dream

Finally, after months of perfecting my technique I did it. My hours of practice, dedication and my innate abilities have finally paid the dividends I knew they would. Success is mine. Let this be a lesson to all you kids out there about hard work, setting goals and following through.

You can’t just sit around hoping great things will come to you. You have to go out there, grab life by the balls and squeeze. You have to make it happen for yourself and be willing to put in the hard work to make sure it does.

My accomplishment today wasn’t just handed to me. I didn’t luck into it and it wasn’t something that just happened today. I had to earn it and build up to it. I started small, a triangle here, a simple quadrilateral there. Then a rectangle and then a square. Sometimes I would pinch off a letter or just practice the fundamentals. And it all paid off. Today, I went for it—my months of focus would culminate in either failure or sweet success and glory.

Good news, I did it. I finally shit a trapezoid.

Rhombus here I come.