DarkSpear

I know, I know, you’re happy just the way you are and couldn’t care less about your potbelly and manboobs. But she isn’t.

So if you’re uncomfortable about the fact that a goldfish eats more in an hour than what your girl eats in a week, don’t be.

The moment you courted her, you signed an imaginary contract binding
you to doing whatever activity she is obsessed with at the moment. That
means you have to eat like a rabbit too when she asks you to. And by
“ask” I mean “obligatory or else you get raped in the ass by ten
well-endowed Koreans who are somehow under your girl’s payroll”.

Go ahead, read more…

Gloomy Sunday is known as the “Hungarian Suicide Song”,
mainly because it allegedly inspired a wave of suicides in the 1930s.
In fact, when it was translated and brought into the US, a third verse
was added (”Dreaming, i was only dreaming…”) to alleviate the song’s
depressing tone. Morbid history aside, it is such a beautiful song of
love lost and depression.

[Read more →]

Last time, we talked about that subspecies of Jologs called the r0kkeRzZzZ \m/.
You know, the black shirt-wearing, beer-bottle toting creatures that
inhabit rock concerts like it’s the end of the world. After which, Mike
toured us on the wonderful world of Jologs Fashion. Jologs Fashion - now that’s an oxymoron if I ever heard one.

For this edition, I actually wanted to write about the r0kkeRzZzZ \m/ subclass called xx E ~ m ~ 0 xx, but seeing how I kept on bashing them here, I really felt that it was too easy.

Just lookit this:

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The wee hours of February 19, 2007, will be forever etched in my memory. I call it the "Troll Attack" night. It was that night when the people I dissed in my Know Your Jologs article (which owes a lot to Mike’s Atrocities of Friendster) finally found it and started to flame me.

It all started in this thread in PhilMusic, which was promptly locked after Steel
and I made short work of the thread. Well, since the thread was locked,
a flamer decided to take his angst somewhere else. Guess where he took
it.

So started a three-hour torturous ordeal where I called on my fellow Man Blog Forum monkeys and
tried to STFU that flamer, who called himself "tonio", an undeniably
porn star-ish name. Ok, it was fun making short work of that asshole,
but trying to shut him up and coming up with witty replies to his
increasingly retarded attacks was tiring. He was really convinced that
he was dealing with some elitist scum who did not care at all about the
poor and the masses.

A few points:

• I am not an elitist, nor do I consider myself to be anywhere near the elite
• I never called the people I dissed poor. He assumed right away that I was dissing the poor. Who’s elitist now, asshole?
• The guy spent three hours attacking a blogger who uses the tagline "Your Daily Dose of Retard". That says volumes already.
   
• That article was satire. I know some people will never find it funny,
  but the logical thing to do would be to just close the browser and find
  another blog to read, because that’s what I do when I find something
  that pisses me off.
• The article was never a personal attack. The article, and the
  entire series that I planned, is a social commentary on the decay of
  decency. Seriously.
   

Me? Asshole? The people who know me personally know that I am anything but. Just like fellow TMB editor Squid,
I project this web persona who is basically my inner jerk which I
repressed after years of being picked on in grade and high school. I
refuse to call it my "Internet Asshole" persona, because Squid already
lays claim to the title.

But reading the stuff I churned out a year ago, I’m surprised at how
mild my articles were. I realized that I’ve been pushing the envelope
everytime, seeing at how much I can go. And today was payback time.

I do not regret using the internet to let out my inner jerk. There are
people who did that before me and people who will be jerks after me,
and I’m not gonna stop just because I pissed off some people. I will write what I want (I will, of course, draw the line at libel) and if I upset some people’s narrow-minded sensibilities, then boo-fucking-hoo.

So you can expect a Know Your Jologs Part 2 one of these days.
I’m also planning to create a webzine which will be hard-hitting,
uncompromising, and less retarded than The Man Blog. But I won’t leave
TMB of course. I love being a retard. And I also love unleasing my
inner jerk on unsuspecting people.

So if one day an angry mob finds me and lynches me to death, don’t ask.

We just got this from a neighbor:

If you’re wondering what that stuff is, it’s called Hemin and it’s supposedly the bread of Padre Pio.

The bread is called Hemin. It is the bread of Padre Pio
and it comes from the Vatican. It brings good luck to every family that
eats it.

Continue reading ‘Manna From Heaven?‘

Q: What is it?

A:
Valentine’s Day is that one day of the year when everybody gets
googly-eyed and start talking about things like love, romance, and all
that. It is also the day the motel and condom industries make a
killing. Also, the Department of Health should also investigate because
asthma and diabetes cases increase on that day because of the sheer
number of flowers and chocolates sold on that day.

Q: Geez, what’s with the red?

A: You see, Valentine’s is the day when emos proliferate. Emos, if
you aren’t familiar, are creatures from the deep who wear weird
haircuts and black t-shirts and listen to crappy music like My Chemical
Romance.

Continue reading ‘The Single Guy’s Ultimate Guide to Valentine’s Day‘

Look at this fine specimen of jologetry.

This is what we call the r0kkeRzZzZ \m/. No, not ROCKER, because
rockers are fine upstanding citizens who get drunk, get stoned, and
basically throw their lives away.

Click here to continue reading ‘Know your Jologs Part 1‘

You may have noticed that I’ve been posting non-retarded stuff on
the blog for quite some time already. You see, being retarded requires
too much energy, and lately I’ve been finding myself having less and
less of it. So I decided to be less retarded for a change. But of
course people don’t want to see me without any mental afflictions, so
I’m not gonna be unretarded in this blog.

Thus I decided to create The BassLine.

The BassLine
will be my repository of reviews of mostly anything: music, gadgets,
comics, books, blogs, and stuff like that. In fact, I already posted
quite some stuff in there already.

Continue reading ‘New Blog, 2000 Bloggers‘

I just created a new blog. Please check it out. More on this later.

Here’s something that all my friends in real life know about me but don’t reveal too much on the web:

I love The Beatles. Yes, those four guys (and two of them are dead)
with the weird hairdos who sing in harmonies and “She Loves You” and
smoke weed and basically what grumpy old men in their 70s listen to.

Finished laughing already? No? Okay!

Ok, so I just bought their new album LOVE,
expecting a tired, random “The Beatles, Remixed” package. I knew it was
a mashup album, but I still wasn’t expecting too much of it. I knew
George Martin and his son Giles produced the 26-track album , but even
though George Martin was the original producer of most of the Beatles’
songs, I still thought I wouldn’t be impressed. So why did I buy it in
the first place? I’m a big fan (as I stated already), and since this is
being touted as “the first Beatles album since 1970″, I just had to
listen to it. So how was LOVE?

Let me just tell you this: “The Beatles, Remixed” it was not. It was something else. totally indescribable.

Unlike my previous reviews, I won’t give you a song-by-song review
of the album because the album is just one whole medley and each track
being a jumble of sounds from other songs, and breaking down each track
and talking about the strengths and weaknesses of each would be an
exercise in futility.

So I’ll just say what I like and don’t like about LOVE.

Continue reading ‘The Beatles: Love‘