Once upon a terrible time there were no helicopters. Then along came a lot of clever-clogs inventors, and now there are. Helicopters. Very useful, and a little romantic, too.
For a long time now I’ve wanted to start a website named pleaseinvent.com. I got a few things I’d like someone to invent. Continue reading
Facebook is ubiquitous. Even your grammy has had an account for two years and the site has become a standard staple in any marketing plan. Of course, it is this widespread use that makes Facebook so damn handy. You can find a FaceBook page for any interest or group, no matter how obscure.
However, this also means that there are some sick fucks and general jack asses who also populate the Facebook universe. Stupidity, bigotry, bad taste; Facebook has it all. I am going to spare you the chore of searching for it yourself, and give you a sampling of some of the worst Facebook has to offer. Continue reading
Hi. Wow — I can’t believe I’m here. I never thought it would get this bad. But I’m here. I have to admit it.
My name is Eddie L, and I have a problem. I can’t turn away from Farmville. It calls to me. My herd of black sheep. The penguins I keep in a pen with my turkeys, even though I know that’s ecologically unsound. I ignore logic and believe I can grow both pomegranate and potato, even though they require opposite climates. I reap, reap, reap Nature’s digital bounty, even though I never rotate my crops and I know I am creating another Dust Bowl. I have abandoned logic!
So, I have come to you, Farmville Addicts Anonymous, for help.
Shall we begin?
I admit I am powerless over my addiction – that my life has become unmanageable
Like I said, my name is Eddie L., and I wish to acknowledge I am a Farmville Addict. I am powerless over the demon call of Farmville. I admit my life is unmanageable, because my life consists only of selling off my pen of pigs in Farmville.
I believe a power greater than myself can return me to sanity
Spock. It must be Spock. Spock was always the creature I turned to for guidance in this wacky world – before my motley collection of cows and horses and reindeer and ducks took over my life. I used to be a Classic Dork – not a Farm-obsessed freak. What would Spock, that pointy-eared lover of all that is orderly – say about Farmville? He would say it is not logical. I bow to you, Spock.
I am making a decision to turn my life over to a higher power
I am all yours, Spock.
I will make a searching and fearless moral inventory of myself
The only question here is what character flaw led me down the path into Farmville, a delightful place with a no-place-like-home farmhouse and a well-cared for chicken coop of happy hens. Why do I so desire to grow apple trees, yet have no desire to dirty my hands or actually sweat?
I must admit to a higher power, myself, and another human the exact nature of my wrongs
Spock, there is no doubt. I have behaved terribly. If I can say that to Spock, I can say it myself. I am doing so here. I would like to confess my sins to my wife, but I don’t remember what she looks like. Perhaps if I leave the Man-Room, where the computer is kept, I can find some wedding pictures to refresh my memory.
I must be ready to ask a higher power to remove these defects of character.
I am ready for my Mind Meld, Mr. Spock.
I must make a list of all those I have harmed, and be willing to make amends to them. I must make said amends
First off, there is the wife. I understand she lives, still, somewhere in this home. I’ve been told, via text message, that she wears earplugs all day long to block out the sound of Farmville music, which grates upon her very soul. Darling, the music will stop. And I will take you out! Perhaps to a — those places where they sell already cooked food for human consumption? I can’t remember what they’re called.
I also wish to make amends to your cat, Eleanor Roosevelt Rigby. I’ve been so obsessed with faux animals that I forgot we have a real living furry creature here at home! How exotic! I think it’s the poo. The Farmville animals don’t poo. Eleanor does. I don’t like poo. But I will learn to live with it. Poo is the price of love.
I will continue to examine my shortcomings and admit when I’m wrong.
Honey, you are always right. Always.
I will seek through meditation the peace and guidance that comes from a higher power
Spock, I beg of you to not abandon me. Perhaps Captain Jean-Luc Picard can offer some guidance. Please, make it so.
Having had a Dork Awakening through these dozen steps, I will spread the word to other addicts, and tell them there is help.
Spock will help you, too. Or perhaps your Spock are the Golden Girls. Hello Kitty? Or Curious George. It matters not. Take off the overalls. Turn away from Farmville. There are real, living creatures out there. You may be married to one of them! There is hope.
My name is Eddie L, and I am powerless over the lure of Farmville.
Folks, meet Ah Be Ignorant. We’ll call her Abby, and I will reveal nothing else about her except her own words. On a website which won’t be named and isn’t the one I fled in droves, Abby and I both read an article about an archeolgical dig that discovered a man’s remains from The Copper Age (about 5000 years ago). Our prehistoric gent was buried facing to the left, with a number of jars and pots.
No big deal? Well, burial rituals were very serious business back then, and that burial position and accoutrements were reserved exclusively for women. Tabloids screamed: “GAY CAVEMAN FOUND!” and scientists went all a-dither. While this is an interesting discovery, you simply can’t tell someone’s sexual orientation by what they were buried in. We’re sure based on the age of the bones that he wasn’t a “caveman,” and we can’t tell for sure if he was gay.
On the smirking site for old people, the findings were published as just that – interesting, perhaps as an indicator of social acceptance for different gender expressions. We know that “third-gender” is a concept recognized by anthropologists. Except for Abby.
Abby wrote: Glad I’m sitting down, because I would have fallen over laughing.
Really, Abby? The very idea of gay people existing over the span of time is funny? The idea that the manner of burial suggests something is absurd?
So I looked at her picture, and without taking into account the glazed look in the dead raisins of her eyes or the way her doughy face cracked open to reveal a roll of stale Mentos melting in the sun of a Murfreesboro parking lot, and without considering the fact that her dog looks like a Hell-o-Lab rather than a Yellow one, I wrote:
I hope they’re sitting down in 3011 when they dig you up and find Fido and a jar of Skippy peanut butter.
Naturally, the author of the article deleted my comment, but not before Abby responded: I’ve never eaten peanut butter in my life and if they want to dig me up, I won’t give a flying fig!
I suppose I should have been more graphic. But I did sign in as Heywood Jablowme, so I had to draw a line.
Stupid people. Making America more of an anti-intellectual hole every day. Full story, from another site: http://www.salon.com/entertainment/tv/feature/2011/04/08/gay_caveman_absurdity/
Congratulations Crasstalkers, yesterday we reached the one thousand post mark. Thanks to your hard work we are now even closer to winning the Internet.
Also, the 13th of this month will be the 6 month anniversary of the founding of Crasstalk so I thought it would be a good time to look back on a few of the really great articles that have appeared here. Here is the first post ever posted on Crasstalk by our Beloved Leader. It actually just contained this prophetic video.
Here are a few articles that I think have been especially memorable. This list isn’t even close to exhaustive, so please feel free to add your own choices in the comments.
As I said before, there are many, many more. A huge thank you to all of you have put in your time and effort to get this place up and running. Hopefully, this will be the first of many thousands of great articles.
