So I get yelled at the other day, angry IM’s and e-mails and what-have-yous, about how I haven’t posted on here in forever.
“We need more posts,” he says. “You haven’t done jack-shit in like two weeks,” he says. “We aren’t going to be able to convince anyone to read this journalistic abortion if we don’t put new stuff up once in a while.”
You know what I say? Fuck that noise. I’m not the only one around here capable of writing comical gold laced with wit and whimsy. What’s that? It’s the reason I’m here? Fuck that. Make someone else do it. In fact, maybe its your fault I haven’t been making great posts lately. You ever think of that? Nobody is giving me material. Why don’t you bitch at them? I’m gonna throw some shit, what are you gonna do next? It’s like working for fucking Stalin in this bitch. What sorts of slave labor am I going to be expected to do next, run my shit through a spell-checker? Check my stories for facts? Actually pay attention to football news? Yeah, nice try, Kim, this is a free country, and I’ll do whatever the fuck I want. Oh, by the way, you owe me a hell of a check for half-assing this post.
Now if you’ll excuse me, I’m going to go fuck an ugly girl with a misspelled name. (Just kidding. I can only take this allegory so far without losing all of my self-respect.)
