Saturday, October 30, 2010

Me and Myself

ME: Bret, why do you hate guns so much?

MYSELF: Hate is such a strong word… hmm… how many other clichés can I come up with to avoid this.

ME: Answer the damn question, what’s with the hostility towards guns?

MYSELF: Are you implying I think guns should be illegal, because I don’t.

ME: Don’t dodge it. Guns and you: why is it like oil and water?

MYSELF: Okay, okay… a gun raped my mother.

ME: Humor is the last refuge of the fool.

MYSELF: “Seriousness is the last refuge of the shallow,” Oscar Wilde.

ME: So you quote old, dead fags instead of answering the fucking question?

MYSELF: I think saying “fag” offends people.

ME: Yeah, whiney little faggots get offended by it.

MYSELF: Yeah, or straight people who have any compassion for gay people, or straight people who were called “fag” while being beaten up at school, or –

ME: You can’t call someone a “pussy” because it’s sexist, you can’t say “fag” because it offends fags… what can I call someone who’s being a whiney little… something.

MYSELF: I dunno… weakling?

ME: That insult is weak.

MYSELF: Do you have to insult anyone?

ME: Do you have to run us off the rails so you can avoid answering a simple fucking question?

MYSELF: I’m being really hard on Myself tonight…

ME: No one’s laughing, funny man. Seriously. Guns. You. What the fuck?

MYSELF: All right. Here’s the deal. I don’t care if people want to buy guns, but here’s what I see. I see a large political lobbying group funded by arms manufacturers that has its hand in more biased research than a 1950s cigarette conglomerate. I see tens of thousands of people dying every year from ridiculous gun violence. I also see a drug war that has criminalized dangerous substances, which has only made them more dangerous. I think drugs should be legal, just as guns should be legal, but I don’t think we should be encouraging people to buy guns or do drugs by glamorizing them or pretending they are perfectly safe. I think each carries a very real calculated risk, and guns in particular have the added nuisance of affecting innocent individuals who have no say in the decision making process. If heroin could just go off and accidentally OD your neighbor, I would probably be as opposed to drugs as I am to guns. As it is, I would say I’m completely apathetic to one’s choice of doing drugs, and I would discourage someone from buying a gun unless they really planned to use it in some constructive fashion, like hunting, target shooting, or even going to the shooting range a few times a year.

ME: Sorry, I nodded off during your convoluted answer there.

MYSELF: I don’t get why it’s so hard to understand that I can dislike something and not want to impose my views on others. Am I supposed to fight to make guns illegal if I think they are a stupid thing to purchase?

ME: That’s how I was raised.

MYSELF: Me too, but you can overcome what you’ve been taught. You can look at things differently. You don’t have to limit yourself to the ideas of the past or adhere to stereotypes.

ME: What a fucking hypocrite, whining about stereotypes. You have got to make some of the most broadly ignorant comments of any blogger I’ve ever seen.

MYSELF: Was it an exaggeration I made for the sake of humor?

ME: It’s hard to tell with you, because you think everything you write is hilarious. Never mind the fact that if you were half as funny as you think you are, people would actually read your blog. Instead, you have to piggyback on someone else’s success just to get a teeny-tiny, miniscule readership of a few more people.

MYSELF: I think that’s a demeaning thing to say about SE. Insult me all you want, but Nikk’s been nothing but infinitely patient and tolerant with us.

ME: If you had listened to Me in the first place, we would have a little respect around here.

MYSELF: What are you talking about?

ME: I told you no one cares about your political ideas. I keep saying: make fun of some liberal stuff and just lie low. People love when you make fun of groups like PETA and other liberal ideas.

MYSELF: Right. Like that “Pro-Bully” crap, where you basically made fun of gay people for ten minutes? You know, our wife read that.

ME: Only half of it. She was too disgusted to finish it.

MYSELF: And that doesn’t bother you?

ME: It bothers you, not Me. I’m looking out for number one, here, and SE is popular because it taps into an angry torrent of anti-government rage.

MYSELF: I think Nikk’s pro-active stance in the blog community, his tendency to follow everyone, his shout outs to other blogs, and basically the fact that he’s been doing all of this longer than we have is the reason he’s more successful as a blogger.

ME: Whatever.

MYSELF: I’m pretty sure if you asked him, he’d say he puts in a lot of work on SE. Plus, it has it’s own real URL, not a blogspot one.

ME: Right, cause you’re cheap.

MYSELF: More like poor.

ME: You can’t shell out twenty bucks for a domain name?

MYSELF: No, we can’t. That would be a little irresponsible at this point.

ME: Sure, you can’t shell out what you paid for delivery pizza last night.

MYSELF: Maybe for our birthday.

ME: If you say so. Anyway, why don’t you post something criticizing Obama?

MYSELF: I don’t know, why did I mock people I was on the football team with, but not the kid in a wheelchair?

ME: Fuck me! Black Jesus is up on his cross, huh? Poor Obama… does it make you wanna cry? Do you need a tissue?

MYSELF: Right. Obama inherits the worst situation –

ME: Poor victim Obama, wah wah wah.

MYSELF: Hey, have you heard of the new George W. Bush value menu at McDonalds?

ME: No…

MYSELF: You order everything on the menu, and make the guy in line after you pay for it.

ME: Is that how you deal with everything, pretending you’re funny?

MYSELF: Pretty much, I call it the third way.

ME: Really, when did you start calling it that?

MYSELF: Like… five seconds ago when I pulled the idea fresh out of my ass. Most people, when confronted with opposition, either try to ignore it, or they angrily oppose it. I prefer to mock it, and laugh.

ME: You find that to be effective?

MYSELF: Well… it effectively keeps me from taking stuff so seriously that I give myself neuroses, and it seems equally as effective at chipping away at someone as any sort of angry response. Which is to say… completely ineffective.

ME: So why do it?

MYSELF: What am I going to get by taking things seriously?

ME: Respect?

MYSELF: Even if I had anyone’s respect, I wouldn’t know what to do with it.

ME: Not even respect from Me?

MYSELF: Why would I want self-respect?

ME: So people will take you seriously?

MYSELF: Again with the seriousness. You know what? The world is serious. Serious stuff happens all the time. The world sucks, and a fair amount of it is our fault.

ME: What?

MYSELF: I mean, like the collective “our,” as in all of humanity. Sure, nature is a bitch, but people do a fair job of making each other miserable. If I have the chance to make one person laugh, or giggle, or even just smile, I’m going to take it. Whenever you try to make someone laugh, you run the risk of failing. It’s a basic law of action: if you try, you might fail. But you know what? Looking like a fool who is unsuccessfully trying to be funny is a risk I’m more than willing to take. If 99 out of 100 of my jokes bombed, I would still go for it.

ME: What about 999 out of 1000?

MYSELF: Probably. What was the one funny joke?

ME: I bet it would be… I wish my lawn was a high school girl.

MYSELF: Um… I am frightened already…

ME: Because then it would cut itself.

MYSELF: That definitely took a different turn than I was expecting.

ME: Get your mind out of the gutter, pervert.

MYSELF: I dunno, needs work. Maybe, “I wish my lawn was goth” or “emo” or something.

ME: You gotta make it timeless. Those stupid stereotypes will be obsolete in a few years when they rebrand the depressed kids in black as something else. On the other hand, there will always be high school girls cutting themselves.

MYSELF: That’s kind of sad.

ME: Aww, nothing sadder than seeing a clown cry.

MYSELF: Water rolling down my back…

ME: Oh, you’re crying while leaning backwards now?

MYSELF: Why the hostility from you? You’re always pissed off.

ME: You never let Me out in public.

MYSELF: I wonder why.

ME: I don’t appreciate being suppressed and only getting to talk online. I want to get into some arguments in person, and beat the shit out of people.

MYSELF: You have got to stop watching television. In the real world, fighting doesn’t get you anything but a summons for assault.

ME: Yeah, because the fucking pigs don’t want competition.

MYSELF: Right. Police enforce the tyrannical ban on assault because they’re afraid we’ll take over. That makes perfect sense.

ME: Think about it, man. If everyone realizes they can protect themselves, the cops become obsolete.

MYSELF: What about the disabled and elderly?

ME: Fuck ’em.

MYSELF: I’m sure people will be lined up around the block to do just that if there are no police. Why would you assume everyone can take care of themselves?

ME: If you can’t take care of yourself, you don’t deserve to live.

MYSELF: That doesn’t make any sense. By your logic, a great mind like Stephen Hawking’s would just go to waste. Unforgiving cruelty masquerading as pseudo-Darwinism is not in the best interests of a society.

ME: Who gives a shit about society, you’re young and strong now. You could beat the shit out of any of those intellectual douchebags who criticize everything from their ivory towers.

MYSELF: That’s not how Darwinism works. If you try to adhere to the same evolutionary standards as animals, namely that only the physically strong survive, then you cannot expect to achieve any more than animals have achieved. In point of fact, strength amounts to nearly nothing in the advancement of humanity. We have advanced beyond the point where muscle can provide progress, and we are clearly at a point where one’s ability to think creatively and adapt to changing norms far outweigh the benefit any physical prowess may provide.

ME: Tell that to pro basketball players with 30 kids by 30 different mothers.

MYSELF: I think you’re exaggerating a bit, but even if you aren’t, the evolutionary success of their children will be diminished by the lack of a two-parent unit during child rearing, and the ultimate success of the genetic offspring of promiscuous fathers is greatly reduced.

ME: Unless you’re Barack Obama, of course.

MYSELF: One example does not disprove the trend.

ME: I’ll give you one more chance to criticize Obama before I just label you a Democrat whore for life.

MYSELF: Well if you have a gun to my head, I would point out he’s a spineless negotiator who doesn’t understand that you don’t initially come to the table with a compromise, you come with what you want (or better yet, more), and then agree on a compromise. His appeasement mentality has resulted in having to compromise on compromises, time after time. He’s trying too hard to court moderates and Republicans while completely alienating the people who would actually vote for him. What’s worse, after all this wishy-washy bullshit, he has the balls to go on every public forum that will have him, media whore that he is, and tell liberals to quit criticizing him and show a little support. He’s even got Joe Biden telling liberals to “stop whining.” That isn’t the attitude you’re supposed to have towards your constituency.

ME: Thank you for not voting for him.

MYSELF: My pleasure.

ME: We should wrap this up.

MYSELF: Yeah, it’s a little embarrassing that I’m letting everyone see Me talking to Myself this much.

ME: I thought you don’t take anything seriously.

MYSELF: I just don’t want people to think this is something I do often.

ME: Yeah, then they’ll put you on meds that make the voices go away.

MYSELF: Not if I don’t have healthcare.

ME: Touché. Well, until next time, this has been Me.

MYSELF: And Myself. Happy blogging.

ME: That’s your sign off, “happy blogging?”

MYSELF: I dunno, it was the first thing that came to mind.

ME: Whatever. I’m going back to celebrity Frankenstein.

MYSELF: What is that?

ME: When you picture different parts of hot celebrities all put together into the ultimate sex object.

MYSELF: I’m sorry I asked…

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