God Damn It

Dear reader, please don't be offended by my impending use of foul language: sometimes you just gotta use strong words to convey equally strong feeling.

But Jesus fucking Christ, some of you assholes are annoying the shit out of me on Facebook, and it has to fucking stop. I'm only talking to the particular subset of IQ-challenged, dumbfuck "friends" of mine who "like" pages with names like "Wonderful Heels on Sale", "Sexy Heels on Sale", "High Heels!", "Your Next Shoes", "Shoe Fetish Boutique", and well...I could go on seeing as there are approximately eleventy billion more such pages--none of whose names in the preceding list did I make up, mind you--but well, since reading isn't likely to be one of your strong suits, I imagine a little forced brevity can only help my cause.

Look, I get that in order to make it through this thing we call reality, people need to have stupid interests/hobbies/pursuits to occupy their time, lest they go crazy. Lord knows I've got my own: sports, fantasy sports, watching cat videos on youtube, and poetry, to name but a few. Christ, I've even touched on the subject of the importance of stupid interests/hobbies/pursuits on this very blog before, as I did towards the end of this essay I wrote following Sean Taylor's (rest his soul) untimely passing. But I'm not the asshole who clogs up people's news feeds with bullshit every time a God damned fantasy player of mine scores a fucking touchdown, either. I keep that shit to myself.

I grant you: you're more than likely unaware that you're being such an obnoxious fucking nuisance--but you've been duped; you're a shill and you don't even know it. This recent Atlantic Wire article talks about the scary and very real possibility that in the near future, facebook will feature even more prevalent advertising than it has already, and you're such a stupid asshole that you're basically letting shoe stores whore you into a virtual fucking sandwich board, right the fuck now, for free.

You see, Forrest, whenever your facebook buddy, good ol' Miss Shoe Fetish Boutique, "tags" you as a picture of 7 inch Louboutin stilletos made of hope and dreams, I am, as is EVERY OTHER "FRIEND" of yours, forced to look at the same God damned picture of what are in the end a terrible, terrible bastardization of the Platonic ideal of "Hey! Let's put things on the bottoms of our feet so we can move around better and not get hurt!" Did you know that wearing high heels can cause turf toe, the injury so named because it's prevalent amongst athletes who play football? Didn't think so...

Anyway, I've been on facebook so long that I remember when you could only join the site if you had an email address with an '.edu' at the end of it. And I'm tired of fucks like you doing your best to trash it up and turn it into God damned, ugly-ass myspace, lowering the hivebrain's collective IQ and shit. In closing, I'd just like to say that if I've offended you by writing this, I'd recommend doing what I do whenever I see your shoe-porn: click the little 'x' in the upper right corner of this post on facebook and select the "Hide all updates from this person" option.

Good day, madam.

I know, I know...

Another "sorry I haven't been keeping up with the blog" post.

It's not that I haven't had anything to say, it's just that I haven't had the time to say it. I know that my hearty presence on all of my other social networks would lead one to wonder why I couldn't just, y'know, update my blog with the same frequency I update facebook and/or tweet, but I submit that those social networks are much more easily accessible via my iPhone's awesome pocket computer-ness than any real blogging platform worth fucking with. Also, I insist upon having a real, physical keyboard attached to my real, old-timey desktop PC and a quiet room in order to do any kind of thinking worth blogging. Sadly, I am rarely home often enough to do that, so...

Speaking of "other social networks," I've joined the herd and got into both Google+ and Spotify. (I'm awwpeaches on both, naturally.) The former, I'm not so sure about just yet--too few early adopters to be useful right now--but the latter...WOW. I've been on such a music bender since Spotify came into my life, which is ridiculous because my life was pretty much already a music bender without it. I guess Spotify is my newest, most amazingly persuasive pusher is what I'm saying.

But anyway and anyhow: I do feel bad for neglecting this here blog, my oldest creative presence on the web. I'm going to be doing a lot more posts about music in the near future, and I'm even considering resurrecting my Saturday Mix Series posts, with downloadable ZIPs of the awesome playlists I make, which I used to do on here way back in 2007/2008--that's right, Spotify! I'm an O.G. playlist-sharer.

I do have plenty more things to say about non-music topics as well, and I hereby promise I'll do better at giving them the time they deserve to be said properly.

Seacrest out.

Dear Washington Post...

The fucking "Sex and the City" movie isn't front page news. Leave the tripe to the Perez Hiltons and ONTDs of the world and stick to what you're good at: writing about shit that actually matters.

More from the douches at work department...

Dear Guy Whose Non-Resident Indoor Tennis Bubble Membership Query I Just Fielded,

Guy, I'm sure you really didn't really mean any harm--at least, not to me--when you said it...

But when you compared the injustice of having to pay $4 more per hour than our Resident members for the privilege of reserving an indoor tennis court to, as you called it, "slavery-status"...

The only thing that kept me from reaching across the front desk and breaking your fucking nose was the fact that I kinda like this job.

Love,

Adam