There are vampires, werewolves, banshees, and many other ghouls of these sorts that roam the night time, coming out in the full moon, ravaging and plundering places where young men like me like to stroll about.
But nothing is as terrible as coming across high school kids at places they shouldn't be, such as places I like to be...
Nothing is more unnerving than when standing in line at a Starbucks a bunch of squealing high school kids stroll in, with their GAP clothing, their pubescent voices all high and shrill dressed in clothing that would make even the most whorish of all sorority girls retch a little in their mouths; being all giggly like most chicks in bad Japanese anime. Seriously, why should I have to put up with these teenage "people" who think they're cool because they're at a Starbucks? I don't want to stand in line and listen to them talk about how Matt stood them up at the local "cool place" where the pizza is so "saucy"! Frankly, all teenagers in Starbucks are stupid. I'm at a Starbucks because I need to binge on caffeine because I've been up for the past friggin' two days trying to study, and tonight I decide to chill over a cup of vanilla mocha with a few friends. I'm at the Starbucks because I've nothing better to do, and am too lazy to make my own coffee, not because its "cool". Who the hell thinks its cool to sip on coffee that will eventually turn your blood brown and probably bleeds out of your ears when your asleep?
Who besides teenagers with nothing useful filling up their brain thinks that cool?
Here's a story: two friends of mine, a guy and girl, are just chilling at a Barnes & Nobles reading photography books because that's their major; anyone familiar with photography knows there will be a few pictures that are nude. They're just sitting and reading when a group of 12 year old girls accosts them with a camera and starts to interview them about why they're looking for porn.
...who, besides teenagers with useless brains, would think Barnes & Nobles would so openly have pornography on their shelves?
I can't even go to a park and lie on the grass without some pubescent punk-ass coming up to me and asking me if I could loan him a couple of bucks to get into a skate-park; or, when at a store some dumb-ass high schoolers bad-mouth me because I won't buy them some shitty beer.
First of all, I'm a college student; unlike most teenagers I no longer have the privilege of asking openly for money from my parents with a pout and puppy-dog eyes. As a result I'm most often broke and have to survive of left-over Taco Bell chalupas.
Secondly, I'm not 21, so I can't by alcohol legally. Also, I'm smart enough to know that beer is the shittiest form of alcohol. But do dumb ass teenagers understand this? No!
Their heads are so full of teen angst that they make PMS-ing women look like Mother Theresas.
But I have a solution to this problem: I propose a law that requires all people from ages 12-17 years old not be allowed outside after sunset.
That way we, the young and swinging youthful college-goers won't have to suffer from the suffocating stench of the smoke that is teenage angst.
Vive la revolution!
Sunday, April 1, 2007
Sunday, January 28, 2007
Purple
Suppose you were purple.
Seriously. Suppose you were born purple. Your parents and family members have normal human colors, but you are purple because of some genetic mutation, or act of God, you know, whatever reason floats your boat (although God making you purple would be a great joke, for Him). Take a moment in your short 24-hour day to think about what you’d feel like if you were purple. Go on, take a moment.
If your reading this part I’ll assume you’ve thought about it, or that you lack the capacity to think. If you are a part of the latter group you have my sympathy and I suggest you stop reading now. If you’re part of the former group perhaps you’ve thought about how you’d view yourself in the mirror every day. Maybe you thought as you shop in a department store for the right shade of facial makeup you’ll end up going home with your money still intact. Maybe you wondered what nickname kids would give you and how that name would follow you through high school: “plumface”, “Barney’s baby”, or “purple slurpee butt”. Maybe you’ve thought about how the opposite sex (or same sex, you know, not meaning to alienate) might be aroused by your rather unique skin tone.
Now, here’s a thought that hopefully you considered, or should have considered: imagine you’re in a room full of non-purple people. Or, better yet, imagine if you were in a school, or college full of non-purple people. As you walk to class among a crowd you imagine your head, with iPod headphones in your purple ears, bopping like a beacon plum in a sea of non-plumfaced people. Suppose in the middle of an intelligent conversation among peers a certain incompetent individual with a silly white grin and no sense of the phrase “foot-in-mouth” perks up the annoying courage to ask: “can you speak like Barney?” And suddenly the conversation changes to a one-man/woman-show and you are your peers like entertainment monkey because now they’ve all become incompetent individuals with no sense of the word “humility”. And so you find yourself parading your purpleness trying to do your best impression of the “I love you…We’re a great, big family song.”
Does the seem outworldly, or far-fetched? If so, yes, it is far-fetched. So, let’s just change two things: imagine you’re brown, and that incompetent individual asks you to “say ‘Thank you, come again,’ funny.” Do you know how this scenario ends? Pretty much same as the last one – you are still an entertainment monkey. Now, what if you were white? Chances are you won’t face many scenarios like this, because let’s be honest, white people aren’t colored. But, let’s just say a certain incompetent brown peer among other brown peers asks you to “run and stand against the white wall” just so they can see if you blend into it. Who knows? Maybe you will, white chameleon.
Frankly, in a world pretty much gone to the gutter it would seem a plumfaced individual will fit in just fine, because all of us with our various skin tones have our share of humiliation, some skin tones more than others. So, if there is that urge in the middle of that intelligent conversation among peers to ask that one purple peer to sing like Barney, try and resist until you realize now is the opportune time for a joke (and the moment is when the conversation is over and everyone leaves). And make sure it’s a good joke, becuause regardless of skin tone, if its not funny, its insulting, and you’ll get some broken bones and a purple eye.
Seriously. Suppose you were born purple. Your parents and family members have normal human colors, but you are purple because of some genetic mutation, or act of God, you know, whatever reason floats your boat (although God making you purple would be a great joke, for Him). Take a moment in your short 24-hour day to think about what you’d feel like if you were purple. Go on, take a moment.
If your reading this part I’ll assume you’ve thought about it, or that you lack the capacity to think. If you are a part of the latter group you have my sympathy and I suggest you stop reading now. If you’re part of the former group perhaps you’ve thought about how you’d view yourself in the mirror every day. Maybe you thought as you shop in a department store for the right shade of facial makeup you’ll end up going home with your money still intact. Maybe you wondered what nickname kids would give you and how that name would follow you through high school: “plumface”, “Barney’s baby”, or “purple slurpee butt”. Maybe you’ve thought about how the opposite sex (or same sex, you know, not meaning to alienate) might be aroused by your rather unique skin tone.
Now, here’s a thought that hopefully you considered, or should have considered: imagine you’re in a room full of non-purple people. Or, better yet, imagine if you were in a school, or college full of non-purple people. As you walk to class among a crowd you imagine your head, with iPod headphones in your purple ears, bopping like a beacon plum in a sea of non-plumfaced people. Suppose in the middle of an intelligent conversation among peers a certain incompetent individual with a silly white grin and no sense of the phrase “foot-in-mouth” perks up the annoying courage to ask: “can you speak like Barney?” And suddenly the conversation changes to a one-man/woman-show and you are your peers like entertainment monkey because now they’ve all become incompetent individuals with no sense of the word “humility”. And so you find yourself parading your purpleness trying to do your best impression of the “I love you…We’re a great, big family song.”
Does the seem outworldly, or far-fetched? If so, yes, it is far-fetched. So, let’s just change two things: imagine you’re brown, and that incompetent individual asks you to “say ‘Thank you, come again,’ funny.” Do you know how this scenario ends? Pretty much same as the last one – you are still an entertainment monkey. Now, what if you were white? Chances are you won’t face many scenarios like this, because let’s be honest, white people aren’t colored. But, let’s just say a certain incompetent brown peer among other brown peers asks you to “run and stand against the white wall” just so they can see if you blend into it. Who knows? Maybe you will, white chameleon.
Frankly, in a world pretty much gone to the gutter it would seem a plumfaced individual will fit in just fine, because all of us with our various skin tones have our share of humiliation, some skin tones more than others. So, if there is that urge in the middle of that intelligent conversation among peers to ask that one purple peer to sing like Barney, try and resist until you realize now is the opportune time for a joke (and the moment is when the conversation is over and everyone leaves). And make sure it’s a good joke, becuause regardless of skin tone, if its not funny, its insulting, and you’ll get some broken bones and a purple eye.
Sunday, January 21, 2007
First things first...
Don't let the name fool you. In more ways than one it is not true. And the explanation is simple: I am playing off an outdated yet, still familiar stereotype of my identity. But, that is what I do. I look at how people see me and I laugh at myself. Having laughed at myself I point out the flaws and foolishness of the people I see around me day by day. I observe, study, analyze, and conclude. I am educated and am still being educated, so nothing I say is made up or puked out rants.
On that note allow me to introduce myself:
I am the Brown Savage.
And welcome.
On that note allow me to introduce myself:
I am the Brown Savage.
And welcome.
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