“But perhaps the single biggest offender in all of this just came about recently, and that’s The Truth. The Truth has single-handedly turned a fairly simple anti-smoking campaign ugly, using blatant smear tactics, grotesque imagery, shock value, and insulting references to push their campaign against “Big Tobacco” using any means necessary. They are the single biggest example in the world today of “The ends justify the means” and frankly, I’m getting a little tired of it. Fine, smoking is bad, WE GET IT. But they keep shoving self-serving facts in our faces that are, at best, factual inaccuracies, and at worst, blatant lies, all while telling us the chemical composition of something we already KNEW was bad for us. They’re beating a dead horse with a spiky steel dildo while wearing backless leather chaps and nothing else, all the while telling us the horse raped our parents and would have raped us had we not killed it, and that’s just disturbing, folks. I’m sorry, it’s time someone told the truth about The Truth.” (I quoted this passage because it was about a month between posts, and I wanted to remind people in case the thirty or so readers I had forgot about this.)
For general reference, that was where we left off last week. The actual rant is in the archives, so if you blinked and missed it, there you go. (God forbid I tell you where it is exactly of course.) But to move this party right along…
Smoking part 1: Where’s my revolution? (I’m skipping a few weeks of older content, mostly because The Truth is annoying the ever-loving fuck out of me, and I don’t even smoke cigarettes anymore.)
So, anyway, the other day I’m sitting outside of my place of work, enjoying one of the few pleasures left in my life, that being smoking. (That sounds morose, but to be fair, I worked in retail at the time.) Now, I don’t know about you, but I personally enjoy smoking, as it’s a reasonable way to relieve stress, a lot less time consuming than playing video games or writing, and less illegal than masturbation (in public) or murder. (Eh. Logically at this point it’s mostly the fact that, once you get addicted to smoking, a lack of nicotine causes stress attacks, and you develop an oral fixation that needs filling, so really, it’s better not to start.) I imagine some of you thinking of a mental picture involving at least one of, if not BOTH simultaneously, of the following ideas as I were to enact them. Please keep in mind, while I do feel bad for your suffering upon imagining that, I have to LIVE with this body, so trust me, you’ll live. You’ve probably imagined Grandma naked, trust me, I’m not the worst thing you’re imagined. (These days the internet has created and archived so many terrible things that a fat dude jerking off in public is probably on the bottom ten worst things most of us have seen in this lifetime.)
Hello everybody, and welcome to Your Hot Cup of Rant. I’m your host, who you can endearingly refer to as Rantmaster Mark, or Mark, or Rantmaster, or even Betty. (If you don’t get that last one, watch better movies before you come back, I don’t know what to tell you.) Anyway, we as a collective are a group of whack jobs and shitheads devoted to giving you, yes YOU, reasons to fear for the sanity of the world at large. I am the site’s general content provider, moderator, editor, and general lord and master of all you presently survey. (This was the official “first post” on the actual site proper; I’m skipping a bunch of the archived email list rants because they’re tough, even for me, to get through.) Roll call works as follows:
Okay, so everyone has started somewhere in their writing work, and this is where I started: on a mailing list to a bunch of coworkers something like fourteen years ago. This is essentially completely fucking terrible, both from a writing perspective and from a “the opinions expressed herein are those of a fucking stupid 21-year-old” perspective, so it probably bears noting that this is going to be embarrassing as fuck, and yes, for a while, I was the Ugly American. So enjoy this or… something.)
Hey everyone. This is the first in a series of collections of the old rants from the E-mail list I used to do, titled, oddly enough, Your Hot Cup of Rant. This one, in particular, is the first of many I sent out, and was about as random a piece of work as you could get. In retrospective, my writing at the time wasn’t terribly strong or cohesive, never really got to a point, and honestly relied too heavily on profanity to get it’s point across.
It’s also probably a good bit funnier than anything I’ve written to date. (No, it probably wasn’t.)