A Bit of a Rant About Stuff
Unfortunately for anyone reading this though, it may not make a lot of sense. See, I’ve just started writing for this site. A good site, and I’m more than a little dwarfed by the guy who runs it all. To put it bluntly, he’s a brilliant writer with his finger on the pulse and about 48 more hours in his day than everyone else seems to get. So, in other words, he’s far better than me.
Now I know this comes as a shock, my hallucinated readerbase. How can anyone possibly be better than me? I know, it’s something that defies the very nature of the physical world. But it’s also true. Presumably he exists in some sort of magical parallel dimension where women don’t insist on putting the toilet lid down and don’t always have headaches at extremely specific times. They may or may not also enjoy wearing school girl outfits but I cannot say at this point.
School…girl…err.. What was I saying? oh yeah. So, that’s the guy who I’m essentially working for, and the problem is, that he’s too fucking fast. He writes about 20 articles in a week, at least, and they’re all usually of a very high standard. Plus the forum related to this site usually contains a large number of links about material that could be used in an actual piece. So this brings me to my first problem, actually finding something to write about.
Because you see, the wonderful thing about the internet, is that everyone likes finding things wrong with everyone else. The moment you write something that has already been said, some wonderful specimen of humanity points out that it was in fact done before on sub obscure site that no-one else reads, not even the person who writes said site. It’s impossible to find something that doesn’t already exist somewhere else, because people are fucking inconsiderate.
Despite all this, due to my amazingly cool amazingness, I did actually find things that weren’t covered on this site or others and wrote about them. They were vaguely related. WHAM FUCKING BAM, the internet provides it’s finest thinker and instantly my only abilities are writing on a field which practically covers an entire scene anyway, according to Confucious reborn. It may also have been because I criticised an old movie, and presumably said intellectual liked this old movie. To top this off, another figment of the internets imagination who had otherwised seemed nice suggested I should do more research when I practically screamed out that I didn’t want to see some festering old try hard movie about things that I don’t care about. That was part of the joke. Maybe I should have written it in bold and capitals, but I assumed that was a bit unsubtle.
It’s these sort of things that make you feel like throwing Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtle figures at random people. And if you’ve never been hit by one of these plastic menaces, you won’t realise how damn sharp and pointy they are. And that is as good a sentence as any to end this on.