This is dedicated to whoever gave me the idea, but I can't remember who, so Blphhhhhhh!
Fluffy pagans, psuedo-science, olives with pits, born again, neo-nazi, speaking in tongues, magic missles, Sylvia Brown, people like Sylvia Brown, people who love Sylvia Brown, people who buy Sylvia Brown's books and try to pawn them off on you in a sad attempt to convert you to the religion of liking Sylvia Brown, Sylvia Brown's agent, that guy on the sci-fi channel who talks to the dead, pretty much any religious mystic or semi-fanatical person that tries to air a legitmate show on tv for the cash, and emo kids, oh, and that damn emo music. And last but not least. FLEEMO!!!! New FLEEMO, Angst Brand snack food, made from real Fluffy Emo children. Don't mind the bits of hair, it fell from the dyed black, cropped, soup bowl hair. These are the things that I hate. Oh, with the passion of a thousand fiery sun. Granted everything has their good moments, save for one. FLEEMO! Fluffy paganism is one thing, those fanatics who buy their religion out of a box at Waldenbooks or Borders. Only having purchased the book because of their rebellious stage in their adolescent years, wanting something that mommy and daddy wouldn't like around. All with shiney covers, dark clothing, and names like Silver RavenPoof (names were changed to protect the easily offended *chuckles*). Next we take Emo. Goth in pink. This class of music normally sung by greasy adolescents with social ineptitude. Gathering the in dimly lit establishments, fighting over space in the darkest corners, and then subsequently writing in their journal. By the time they are through these journal are nothing but a collection of depressing thoughts, and bad poetry about the emo girl on the other side of the bar that they haven't bothered to talk to, ever. These people idolize that wierd british dude who sings in the rain on VH1. Caterwalling about some woman he saw on the subway, and thought she was beautiful. Catch is, she was with some other guy, or at least looked like it. Course since he doesn't have any balls, because obviously his parents neutered him at a young age, he won't even bother to go up to her and find out. So what does the tard do? He, after the stripping and lining up his personal belongings in front of him, in a ploy to waste video time, turns and runs off the side of a cliff into the water below. The video fades out on the ripples he left, never rising again. This emo boy, has just found the most fluffy pagan way of doing things. He has begun the most horrid amalgomation of genres ever created. Fluffy Emo, or so handsomely dubbed FLEEMO! Now, let us rewind to the point where he was half way down from that cliff jump, and then let us pause. His skinny muscleless body floating in space, rain splashing of his pallid emo-flesh. If you could rotate the camera please. Now that we can see his face, we see the look of utter terror. This man just jumped off a cliff, because of a woman he has never met. Well, this is the point where his life flashes before his eyes. First he will find his childhood actually rather good, begging the question what the heck he actually has to bitch about? Next he will find his fluffifull adolescence wasted on bad poetry, fruity tasty alcohol, and a slew of equally inept women looking at him over the rims of their journals. Its at this point in his life, right before his lemming-like death, that he realizes that the female species is actual widespread and exists within his own demure sub-culture. Perhaps even sub-species as well if he is lucky. (Homo Emosuckicus Sapien for you science buffs) Next he jumps forward to the many movies in his life that made him cry. (Note: For the little informed. Emo boys are prone to fits of spontaneous tearing. So there would actually be many movies on this list of things that made him cry, so I will refrain from listing.) But the simple thought would come to mind, besides that fact that he is completely inept and needs a tissue box sewn into his jiffy-bob hairdo, that "Wait, what if the guy was just standing next to her? She was on a subway, and other people do use it. Or what if it was her brother, or cousin? It is possible I am just a tard and didn't think about it. Mmmm... Maybe I should go and talk to her. Yeah, as soon as I am done here, I'll go talk to her. Yeah! Then I'll get a job, maybe a real haircut, and become a useful member of society." Its around this point in our film that somebody pushes play again, and our sad sad hero plunges into the water below, cramps up from his taco hell lunch, begins to freeze, dies of hypothermia, and is later found curled up and dead on the beach, even paler than he was before he jumped and more than likely having soiled a pair of under-roos before he died, bringing into question the scientifical fact that one releases their bowels 'after' death. This of course would begin a ground breaking research project that would end up proving that Homo Emosuckicus Sapien has a section of the brain long lost after the extinction of the dodo bird. This gland causing the one with it to be a total weenie and provides an urge to work towards their own destruction through fear, crying, and soiled under-roos. In the end this one sad FLEEMO actually ends up contributing to the world, by ceasing to be. Now, if it wasn't bad enough, VH1 decides to air this song every hour or so after dark. I end up watching it over and over in my attempt to watch the facial expression change right before the plunge. Mesmerized by the death of this simple FLEEMO. What train wreck power pushes my mind to watch a skinny british man kill himself over and over again? Sadly, I do not know. Perhaps it is a mystery of the universe, that like the lemming that jumps, there must be a lemming that watches the lemming jump. Some sort of observational truth of the universe. That my droogs, brings this rant to a conclusion. Please try not to take the world too seriously. And if you like emo, at least try not to let your friends know.
-A big traditional hand gesture of the streets to you all,
His awkwardness,
PinkWombatSquirrel
P.S. Our editorial and spellcheck department was seeing fleeing the seen of a broken into Cheeto factory today. If you have seen these mongrels please contact animal control. They are to be considered armed and dangerous, and probably smell like coffee. Approach with caution.
-A big traditional hand gesture of the streets to you all,
His awkwardness,
PinkWombatSquirrel
P.S. Our editorial and spellcheck department was seeing fleeing the seen of a broken into Cheeto factory today. If you have seen these mongrels please contact animal control. They are to be considered armed and dangerous, and probably smell like coffee. Approach with caution.