Humor/Satire / A Vacant Philosophy
A Vacant Philosophy
The Life Antics of an Eccentric Young Survivor of East Texan Idiocy
Introduction
To any and all that may read this, I offer you my deepest condolences. Unfortunately, I am nothing of a true philosopher. I am still a child trapped in the body of a young man. Naiveté is my closest friend. I have lived a prosperous, albeit meaningless pair of decades and I hope I shall continue to do so for several decades more. I am prone to spotting stereotypes, being sexist, offending people that I think may in one aspect or another be devoid of intelligence, and more often than not I think about how much better I would treat your girlfriend than you. This is simply the way I am, and you will come to love me or hate me for it. I do not care which. Take note that I am abandoning many literary conventions, such as the usage of the second person being taboo. The worst that can happen is that the bastards make me revise this before it is ever released. To me, this book is a letter to a dear friend who I have never met, so that he or she will have an opportunity to hate my guts or dream of raping me without even meeting me. If adventure is what you seek, I suggest any books by the esteemed Dave Duncan. That man could write himself out of Houdini’s predicament with nothing more than a quill and his own blood. For those who seek romance, you will receive no more than a few anecdotes of the failed tragedies resting in the anthology of my life. If, however, you seek to laugh at a misguided young man for his vast and peculiar idiosyncrasies, you may find yourself entertained by the oddity that is my mind.
Why a “vacant” philosophy? Well, if you take a gander into my present status, your inquiry may be answered. What right does a twenty year-old junior college attendee have to advise peers, elders, and/or (God forbid) children on the issues I will soon address? To be brief, the answer is none. I have no foundation to support my claims. My only endearing quality is that I have the ability to structure a grammatically correct sentence and the creativity to make it sound like I am not bullshitting my way to fame while it is clear that is exactly what I am doing. Perhaps the greatest question yet is why you should even continue reading. Sadly, I have no valid answer for this. All I can tell you is that you if do not buy this book and advertise it to all of your closest friends, I will surface in your dreams and bitch-slap you from the moment you close your eyes until the moment your subconscious screaming awakens you. That being said, I do appreciate you taking the time to read this. I also hope you enjoy my writing and take a few of any lessons you may learn from me to heart.
Friendliness
Through my years, concern is always with me. We hear from the news of all the terrible things people do to one another. We live in a society populated by rapists, murderers, and racists. In other words, we live in a world with southerners. Oh, that includes incest, binge drinking, and alcohol abuse, but those are things we only hear of when they have to do with celebrities. I suppose the only redeeming factor in the questionable nature of the stereotypical southerner is that a cowboy-hat-toting boot-wearing rifle-wielding whiskey-drinking shit-kicking redneck looks just silly enough to make me giggle. Other than the obvious fact that southerners are dangerous, how do we know who to trust in this cruel world? You can rest assured that I am speaking the utmost truth when I tell you that there are two types of people in this world. There are people who will kill you, and people who will not kill you.
I employ a particular system of identification regarding these potential threats. I call it: progressive stereotyping. Take note, children. Stereotyping, by itself, can be a negative thing. At least this is what my conscience tells me. Therefore, as a means to cope with the guilt and still not be drugged, sodomized, and dissolved in acid, I renamed it. Progressive stereotyping is the act of making quick observations of an individual and drawing a conclusion about them for the purpose of not being murdered. While surely your conscience is bothering you simply from considering this, give me the benefit of a doubt. I am not saying that you should go about and discard anyone that looks the least bit strange and to label them as a murderer. I am, however, saying that you should do that to anyone who has had their ears or body pierced more than three times. From my warped perspective, that just screams “I am emotionally scarred! Not only that, but I have a hard time getting rid of the bodies! My kingdom for a furnace!”
Once I have made my analysis, I then have a few options for the candidate. If the candidate is a male, then there are three different degrees of classification: dislike, apathy, and tolerance. The greatest majority of the male specimens I have encountered in my life have fallen within the former two simply because I am a sexist. From my experience, it is always the assholes who sweep the women I want off their feet and carry them gleefully to the faraway land of Poverty in the lovely state of Domestic Abuse. I also hold a severe hostility for any male who is outwardly flirtatious towards women he hardly knows. Everyone knows a guy like this. This symptom of gratuitous testosterone excess is commonly related to small penis dementia, an unfortunate condition in which the host suffers from the illusion of having an insignificant phallus. Whether his worries are apt or not, the poor bastard continuously attempts to rid himself of his concerns by getting as many females as he can to bounce on his tootsie-roll. Other symptoms of this condition include the following: sports cars, dating women anywhere near as anorexic as that skeleton from Ally McBeal, excessive high fives, and enthusiasm for baseball caps, especially when worn backwards. Honestly, I could spend days detailing my various annoyances with these poor souls who suffer small penis dementia, but the show must go on.
If I hold apathy towards you, regardless of gender, I will not rock your world. This is not necessarily a bad thing. After all, if you are a male, I was not going to do you even if I loved you more than Anette Olzon (I will get to her later, so no fretting). Females who I do not hold dear to me will never receive anything more than a handshake, and even then you will have to stick a magnum in my mouth to get me to do it. Since I care as much about these people as I do about Anna Nicole Smith’s rotting, bloated, worthless ass, let us go on to tolerance. On a side note, thank God people shut the hell up about her.
“Tolerance is a dish best served with rat poison”, a friend always told me. Okay, honestly, I just made that up. The meaning still stands, however, as I have learned that people absolutely positively cannot stand being treated indifferently. Considering the fact that it pisses people off, any suicidal birthday clown could guess the way that I enjoy treating people I hardly know. Yes, the answer is “indifferently”, Mr. Binkles. No, I will not pay you in booze and hookers. Theoretically, if someone is frustrated by the way you treat them because they feel it is unjust, they will inquire as to the reason for your shortness, right? Wrong. They will hate and despise you more than politicians do happiness. Only two sorts of people will risk a confrontation. The first type, which I dub hugglies (do not question my manliness, damn it!), are the people you should consider to be your friend. They will kindly ask you if something is the matter and more often than not, they will make great friends if they still want to talk to you after you tell them your mind is so fragile (or you could simply be bored) that you would listen to me. The second sort of people, bad asses, will challenge you to a pissing contest. Just ignore them. Even if they are female, they may suffer from a sister disease of small penis dementia which is still being studied at this point. Early results conclude that they are indeed total bitches and must be strapped to a chair and forced to watch Family Matters re-runs until they fall in love with Steve Urkell. My partners in this study believe this to be the only solution in making them human again. Damn, that was a great show.
Subliminal message: Buy my book. If you have already bought it, buy it again. Me want cash-money-dollars. Ben Franklin in the house.
Love at First Sight (Because You Gave Me an Erection)
Young ladies, at this point you may want to cover your virgin eyes. Ah, what the hell do I care? Statistics say that I have had sex about three hundred and fifty times less than the average twenty year old female. Did you believe that? Gullible bastard. We’ll get to my sex life later. For now, let us talk about “love at first sight.”
Bullshit. The end. In most cases, it is indeed bullshit. If a man ever tells a woman that his heart skipped a beat the moment he saw her, chances are that his heart was currently residing no more than five inches above his testicles, unless he is incredibly old (the perverted bunch will understand that). Undeniably, all men suffer from the occasional thought of mounting some unbelievably beautiful lass and making cubs with her right on the spot. All men other than me share this quality. I am an angel! However, it is hard to truly discredit the belief that people can be meant for one another and that they will know it the moment they set their eyes on the prize. Skepticism is my business, but I am also a romantic.
Sometimes, and I mean this is something which can only occur in rare occasions, a male is telling the truth. A male speaking the truth about this current topic shares the same likelihood as me voting for Hillary Rodham Clinton in 2008. All other candidates would have to die and Dick Cheney would have to jump into the election along with his man-sized safe and his old man hunting equipment. So how could this be true? Do you remember me talking about making judgments from observation? Yes, the thing that makes me look like a huge asshole. Believe it or not, the majority of us unknowingly decide whether we like someone or not before they finish a single sentence in our presence. Body language and appearance play some of the largest roles in how we perceive people. Here is an example. If I ever went out on a casual stroll and I encountered a girl my age (I often look for older women, but this will do) who appeared as if she spent more time working on her outer appearance in one day than she ever spent on the way she treated others her entire life, I would immediately decide that I would much rather lay a big sloppy kiss on a large-mouthed bass than her. It is my belief that women like this take pride in their ability to attract men suffering from small penis dementia. What does this mean? Quite simply, these women are the ones who bounce on tootsie-rolls. God has a plan for us all.
On the contrary to what I just said, I recently met an exception to the rule. She had very well groomed hair, lovely eyes, and just enough make-up to suggest that she does spend a bit of time on her appearance. As beautiful as she was, she could have spent several hours on it all. The rule previously states that I would scoff at her and deem her unworthy of my friendship. However, the way that she carried herself told me that she was worthy nevertheless. She did not wave her hips frantically like the attention-seekers, nor did she sulk in a way that hinted she might drop by again with an AK-47 in tow. No, the way she moved, spoke, and smiled suggested that she is one of the rare jewels of this God forsaken planet. Within only a few moments of talking with her, I already knew she would someday make a man (or woman if I misunderstood her preference) very happy. I suppose she would make both happy if she lived in Utah. “Yay for polygamy” is the motto of that lovely state.
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dude, that is FUCKING AWESOME!!! i can’t wait until you finish it! when you get it published, make sure that copies are available in Australia. otherwise i’ll… well i probably won’t do anything, but i’ll be annoyed! (unless i forget, in which case i won’t be annoyed…) but anyway, it’s really really really good, and it’s funny too.
thanks for writing ti :)
~Lara
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Ok, I admit you are very funny. I bet you could give “Last comic standing” a run for their money. Your work also makes some sharp political observations. However, the entire work wanders like a Robin Williams 10 minute ad lib. If there was any point to it just faded into your rapid fire jokes. But that could be a good thing, right? Hey, you made me laugh. End of story.
Kudos. I was especially amused. I’m just wondering why I haven’t wandered to the humor/satire section previously….
I love your straight-forward, shoot-from-the-hip style in this piece. Even at a mere 20-years-old, your insights are profoundly “right” and those that are ripped will be angry or too dumb to realize they’ve been ripped.
Two “grammatical” errors jumped at me: In the sentence just before your “Friendliness” heading, “…take a few of any lessons…” -should be “if.”
Also, “cowboy-hat-toting boot-wearing rifle-wielding whiskey-drinking shit-kicking redneck” should have commas in it between each description (i.e. toting, boot-wearing, rifle…)
Your style of writing is what kept me reading. It’s the way you present the content of the story that bothers me.
There is to much shock value that does not work.
1) “apathy towards you
I had intended to list all of my objections, about what you had said in this story. That would be wrong. Your writing style gets a person to thinking.
Not that I like what you writer, but I can not condemn a good writer.
muhahahaha! I am from Texas and I appreciate your “progressive stereotyping” however…as a poorly dressed female who garners very little notice on the sidewalks of campus, can i just warn you that if this “exception” you describe at the end, ends up being the main love interest, you’ll have just shot your book in the….spine?...and contradicted the whole point….and also highly offended all the ugly girls who were initially charmed by your rambling…
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