We deal with them ..every..fucking..day.
Don't be one.
No, i refuse.
As you travel through life you will meet many, most of them look just like normal humans, this is how they get away with it. Being a Fucktard that is. The perfect camoflauge, the human body.
Don't get me wrong, animals can be fucktards too, look at most dogs. Fucktardery at it's finest, bark fukn bark..what are you barkin' at dog ? ..chew chew chew.Bark bark. Slobber drool..look at me..i'm a fukn dog. Bark. But they at least have an excuse, thats as far as they are going to evolve, well for at least for the next million years or so. Humans don't, we have evolved..most of us..from being a hairy gitted bigfoot looking motherfucker that couldn't wipe our arse and in any case, we didn't give a rats about matted clumps of shit hanging of our posterior region, and in fact probably loved the fukn stench of it all !
So anyway..we have evolved to what we are today. Cleanshaven toilet using upright standing mammals. We can outwit dogs..most of us, hunt and kill wild beasts from hundreds of metres away while smoking cigars , wearing full porno sunnies and listening to Kanye fucking West from the back of a Porsche..if we so choose.
We can build great cities and fill it full of amazing things that encapsulate our entire existence. Art, science, history, we have conquered the great continents of the world and run road, rail and air highways so we can get around in cigar smoking youtube watching steak eating comfort, we have available at our fingertips an incredible amount of knowledge and history via our pcs in the great world we know and love as the interwebz.
What do we do with that ? what is the number one place where most congregate ? Facebook.
Nick has updated his status.. ' I can't get over the fact i can only find one sock..why does this always happen ?
Betty says..' Lol Nick..you are the funniest guy i know! Betty has poked Cathy
Cathy says..Lolz @ nick..you so should tweet that Nick, its so hilariously funny because it's true! Betty is now tagged as my sister.
Sam says..Zomg Mick..that is EPIC like the Romans were EPIC..when they were EPIC! Nick is know tagged as my brother
Tony says.. I knew when i woke up today was going to be awesome! right on Nick! Tony has tagged everyone as his family.Tony has 6 million friends and is currently winning facebook.
Need i say more, i believe not.
We will be our own undoing. We get so far and then just let ourselves slide straight back to scraping our asses against tree trunks trying to wipe the shit off our fur.
Be wary, you normally will not be able to spot the common street fucktard. A Nickleback concert is a good place to see a large'ish congregation, possibly running second only to most countries in the middle east and of course Facebook.
Did i mention Nickleback ?
Fucktard of the Year 2012
(Above image made in less time than it takes to suck an eyeball out of a socket.)
There have been many fucktards this year,2012, ..far too many, but none have eaten another persons face ,yet. Except this guy, Rudy Fucktard Eugene. Fucktard extraordinaire.
In this day and age where fast food is available every 32 metres..this guy eats a face. Yum. Or not. And he dined in the nude..straight back to our caveman roots..on a highway, in America, where else ? Zombie apocalypse or troubled human ? Neither. Fucktard extraordinaire.
Yes, he was on facebook and yes, several facebookers have made dedicated facebook accounts to him.
Coming to a highway near you soon...
Hungry facebook fucktards.
fucktard winner 2013
The Woolwich hacker..someone may still beat him out...but i highly doubt it.
Lawsuits & Signs , or ...
10000 Days. Thats how slow time seems to pass when you listen to a Tool song.
But finally they have been honest and named an album correctly. I used to like one of their songs a long time ago, then i realized they only have that one song..they just keep changing the name of it.
Don't eat kfc for dinner and then fall asleep on the floor.
Trust me on this one.
I have been watching Shaka Zulu over the last few nights (i blame childhood reminiscing and Bad Ass of the Week dot com) anyway its raining like a bitch so i pick up an equally badass meal on the way home to compliment tonights viewing of part 5 through 7..12 pieces of the colonels finest for 12 dollars tuesday.
I am plowing through piece 6 as Shakas hordes are plowing through a horde of shit scared warriors and i start dropping off. Next minute i am back behind the wheel of an old v8 i used to own. Its run down and unregistered and i am painting big black lines on the pavement somewhere on a night road.
I pull in at my sisters with the engine overheting and she is playing daft punk mixed with some tripped out 70's Doors keyboards. She offers me this stuff in a shiny packet not unlike popping candy but i realise it is coke, not the drinking variety, and for some unknown reason i start stuffing it in my nose and snorting it down. I had visions later of myself asleep still half sick from the weeks flu with my nose leaking down my face while i am desperately fingering a nostril. Yeah i know.
So in my dream i am suitably off my guts on a substance i would'nt have a toss on what it feels like in rl and freaking out because i need to get my car home and ,of course, i have no pants on. I find a pair of her jeans and put them on, the top part is a weird metal band about 20 inches wide and hopelessly uncomfortable not to say way out of fashion unless you are Napolean Dynamite or Flash Gordon. I walk out into the backyard just as a bunch of cops rock up at the door so i jump into the grass which is luckily at least 5 foot high. The cops see me but run past where i jumped in and start blowing the grass down with leaf blowers that cut the grass as they blow. Why the fuck doesn't Kmart sell that ?
After a minute or two they find me and ask me where the safe is. I have no clue what they are on about as i am still imaginarily fucked up on popping candy coke. After watching them dig holes looking for this safe i know nothing about i somehow extricate myself from the situation and i am driving home in my car in my new found tight as Dynamite Gordon pants. Now possibly because i am fucked up on dream popping coke or because my pants are cutting off my circulation i park my car in the middle of the road and start walking, i bump into a bunch of guys from work who happen to be out in the middle of nowhere in the middle of the night. They dont even mention my pants.
A crew of heavily tattooed dudes then pulls up behind us, arms, chest legs, face...the works. One of them is wearing those weird galsses without lenses but they are bouncing on his face as if they made of rubber. He comes over and says heeeeey maaaan..and we shake hands like long lost bros. He says, 'come for a walk ...dude up here' and points back into the darkness. I somehow know Mr rubber glasses and decide ,ok cool (i blame the popping coke for stupid decisions )and we start walking si;entlu, his crew falling in behind us. Then i have an out of body (in dream) deal where i am looking down at myself and there is a big cartoon ballon bubble coming out of my head. Inside the bubble is a picture of a honey jar strolling along a sunny road with a great big turd on top of it pushing it down like a facebook shaped thumb. I decide this walk is a bad idea and tell Mr glasses that i have to go get my car and abruptly turn around and head back through his throng of tattooed bros.
I jog away and run past my work mates who are possibly wondering how the fuck i can run in these pants and then i turn at an intersection. My beat up car is gone so i head right, down a four lane highway, just to keep on getting away from Mr rubber glasses. On my right is a jail fence rising about 8 feet above me. Immediately the other side of the jail fence is a cliff face with a small walking ledge that then drops down a couple of hundred feet to the concrete paved jailyard.
Weird framed motorbikes keep on going past me and i somehow know they are connected with Mr rubber glasses so i look away every time i see one but they are slowing getting closer as they roar past. An oncoming one and his companion then heads right at me so i clamber up and over the fence. As i climb down the other side and balance on the ledge i notice the whole fence is covered in plastic wrap. I am struggling to keep balanced so i bust my fingers through the wrap to get a grip on the fence proper. One of the bike dudes, of course the weirdest looking fucked one one, gets off and climbs over about five feet away from me so i start jumping down the fence like some sort of gorilla cross monky cross -xman circus freak stabbing my fingers into the plastic wrap and propelling myself down the fence with the speed of a gazelle in flight from a lion. Fuck you Shaka. His mate is keeping up with me on the other side of the fence and kicking at it while the guy on my side is doing the same as me and closing in. I look down the several hundred foot drop and think fuck this shit and then wake up surrounded by my bean bags.
Be wary of the Connect button above..it does not actually mean anything, simply a trick piece of software to be repeatedly clicked while you grow a beard.Try it now, yep, thats what my real one does to. Did your beard grow ?
There are no words for the pain i feel when i think of Virgin Wireless 'Broadband'..actually, i lie.. there is two , Pure and Hatred. They are the first two at the forefront of my beard when anyone mentions Virgin , wireless and Broadband. Other words that spring to mind would be Shithouse, Jokefest, Brain Annoyance, Shaving and Fucked. Actually as i type this there is suddenly an avalanche of words smashing down into my fingers..Retardedly Slow, Quagmire, Megafucknhopeless,Being fucked by a rusty spoon, Why ? , 1880 net speeds, Boregasm, Knobjockey Net Action, Snail Party. If my Internet was a movie the catch line would be ' I see slow people'if my transfer rate was crucial to anyones life, they would eat a dick and fukn die,if i was writing this at home on my pc it would look like this..
..see that space of zeroness above ? why you ask.. thats nothing, how can that possibly be?BECAUSE I WOULD STILL BE STARING INTO THE ETHER AND GROWING A FUCKING EPIC BEARD WHILE THE NET LOADS ! Heres an example of the 2012 space age speed of Virgin wireless..
Yes..the future is less than the Jetson's would have us believe...
..if Thomas Edison miraculously time travelled forward and stumbled on Virgin wireless he would immediately teleport back (with an epic neckbeard) and say, dont worry about the lightbulb invention guys..lets leave the future in the dark, they are fucking idiots. Problembeing, if he installed Virgin wireless in his teleporto machine of amazingness ..he would be stuck absofuknlutely nowhere excepting no connectivity land. Blank fucking page Thomas ! error 404 bro.
Not wanting to be stuck in this lacklustre future he would more than likely use another invention that he had a hand in improving, the telephone, he would ring Virgin and after much pressing of buttons and droning robotic messages would possibly get through to one of the top of the class IT minds at the 'help' centre, intelligent and unbelievably talented individuals. Trust me , i've spoken to them. Thomas would lose his shit seeing the great invention of the phone being used in such a menial hopeless way, droning messages, prompted unthinking questioning and no solution in sight, all amidst much beard growing.By the thirdpc restart Thomas would no doubt be wishing he had invented a Telphony Capable Nuclear Strike Device.
Hmmmmm.Food for thought.
Without going into to much detail..i'm sure we have all spoken to isp help centres before, and i am positive we all have nothing but buckets of vomit for their quick solutions to our problems. Case in point, i walked into a Virgin store last Thursday to have a look at their internet package. Whilst there and going through the motions of looking at a deal i noticed ridiculously inane prompts popping up on the Virgin employees screen as he filled in details. I asked him why such basic messages kept popping up..and wasn't it annoying ? I mean all he was doing was closing them as quick as they intruded onto his desktop so he clearly did not need them. He said yes they were, actually,'annoying as fuck' were his exact words and then we spoke about the 'help' centre.
I said i had lived in several different areas of Brisbane and that whenever i had rung up the incredibly awesome 'help' centre that the standard line seemed to be "in what area of Brisbane are you located sir ? " When i replied what suburb i was in... ( throw a dart at a map ofBrisbane first and recite suburb..or pick one out of a hat it really doesn't fucking matter)..the incredibly alert'help' centre robot (strikethrough)employee would always state " Oh.. you are in a low coverage area". Apparently anywhere in Brisbane..the third largest city in Australia is a low coverage area. I've lived in four suburbs in this city and Virgin eats dick in all of them. Massive amounts of man sausage.
This guy at Virgin enlightened me , he said ..yeah they get popups too and are just prompted onwards until they get to the one that says ' you are in an eat a dick coverage zone' That is after the 'Do you have an antivirus installed' popup, no..of course i dont you fucktard..who am i Thomas fukn Edison in the 1880's ? After having to disable my AV and checking connection.........................0.8 kbs and slowing................................. i am asked to check a few Virgin network settings, yep all good..they always are (insert rolleyes) , do a restart. Boot back up, open connection ......................................stillshit.................................. Ok sir, if you could just delete your Virgin install and turn off your computer for five minutes and then i will ring you back, they don't..i do.
Robotic message machine, authentification process..how may i help you sir..( HOW ABOUT YOU GIVE ME WHAT I AM PAYING YOUR MASSIVE FUCKING COMPANY FOR! ) I explain what i have done up to right now and then continue. Plug in usb, let program install, shut down and restart computer. Check internet options within Virgin program..all good to go, apparently.Now if you could just open your internet browser please sir *snicker*....... Go to google...................................go to google....................................go to google...................................feel beard growing.....shit speeds still - including possible timeout possibly caused by miniscule cloud in orbit around the earth blocking all possible Virgin wireless action to my current address.... Sir... What suburb in Brisbane are you in sir ? .....stroke beard...grab dart.
If any of this prompts you to rush out and grab a Virgin wireless usb, just think of Thomas Edison stuck in time, untangling his beard from his shoelaces...wondering where the fuck we decided in this day and age that 1880's type net speed was something that deemed payment. Maybe if they put more work into their Internet connectivity and IT training and less into their crap advertising and shit bonus offers ( a skinny dude in a pathetic red suit ? I've seen wittier humour posted on youtube by a four year old) then companies like Telstra would not be blowing Virgins wireless shit into the ground and dancing a merry jig around the the slowest forming crater you have seen whilst making dial up noises and laughing uproariously.
and lastly, a graph for the tldr crew..
1 x Lady of your choice. You cannot have the one pictured, she is mine.
1 x Any variety of weather, it's all good.
0 x ladders. Did you use a ladder as a kid to get on the roof? Don't cheat.
1 x drinking carrying device containing beverages and ice, unless you want to be up and down to the fridge all day/night long.
2 x sense of good humour and some wit..otherwise you may as well go up there with your dog and throw sticks at tiles. Roof sitting without good conversation is like being a chicken trying to throw a brick. Just fucking silly.
2 x Sunnies , even if nightime. Who knows, you may end up sleeping there , always be prepared. The sport of roof sitting is no joke.
1 x Firestick..what are you a fucking caveman ? Always carry a firestick of some sort.
1 x Weapon of some sort, the opposite of roofsitting is roofhunting, once again..always be prepared.