Gonzo Marketing:Winning Through Worst Practices The Bombast Transcripts: Rants and Screeds of RageBoy
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Sunday, June 06, 2004
Saved by the Überbitch!
(and it's not who you think)
I've been in a very weird mood tonight. I know what you're thinking: "How unlike you, Chris!" But it's just been one unholy fuckbuster of a week. Not that they all aren't. It's just that, you know like when you're singing that little Beatles thing about how it can't get no worse, and then it does? Like that.

So let's see... what did I do today? Blew off Eric Norlin's good advice (no, not about branding; about women). Finally fell asleep at 6:30am. Got up at 12:30. This is all part of my new Cognitive-Behavioral Therapy regimen, which involves being cheered every time I think of the pack of brain damaged moron losers who promote Cognitive-Behavioral Therapy. Aaron T. Beck, kiss my ass!

Then I checked mail to see how many people didn't say dick about my text-and-graphics demonstration-by-sampling of unformulated experience, which is, of course, the key to the whole thing. (Where's that other ass-kissing grafik? I know it's around here somewhere.) Then I fucked with my computer for awhile. They've all died except for the Dell Inspiron 7000 laptop, which was a hell of a box back around the time of Ralph Waldo Emerson. Who, btw, can also kiss my ass, if only for his essay on "Self Reliance," the basis for new-age self-help cults from here to Calcutta and back. Fucking fast-buck closet Theosophist. Ptui!!! Then I made spaghetti sauce. And emptied the trash. And washed a pot. Progress not perfection.

After dinner, I lay on the couch for about two hours feeling weird in the dark. Everybody loves Saturday night. But I was restless. Thinking there must be an answer. Or something. At least it cooled down some and I took off my shirt. So there was that. And eventually, I came up here to delete more spam (a man must have a purpose in life), in the course of doing which, I came across this mail I'd seen a few weeks ago but dismissed as representing the next stage in sophistication of the unsolicited commercial email evildoers...

Hi RageBoy, I am the writer of Bitch Blog, the Uberbitch. I will gladly link to you as well. My blog is located at: www.krautgrrl.com/blog

Thank you RageBoy.

--
Michele

shamelessly gratuitous amazon come-on Now, looking at it again, I thought, well damn, that's pretty courteous for even sophisticated spam, and it didn't say she had a webcam and was jes dyin ta MEET me, like those Puerto Rican girls Mick was talking about. OK, so maybe this is from an actual human person, I reasoned. Even if she is whoring for links. I don't know what it is about the internet that has made me so cynical. Something in the water, I suspect. And it's made me mean, too. So even though I clicked the link, I wasn't expecting much. These fucking people you get now online? Ptui!!! <rossperot>Know what I mean?</rossperot>

Oh, she's in Missoula. Or Montana. One of those M states. At least she's local. But there's a husband. Shit. Well, then she's probably a north woods soccer mom, and I've had just about all I can take of them. But now wait. Why am I chuckling, then? The title slugs alone are intriguing. "Ex-husband Needs Fellatio," for instance. Maybe soccer has changed, I'm thinking, grown up. After scanning the headlines, I perk up a little at this: "Puke, I sound Catholic. I hate that when I sound Catholic." Yes, I know what she means. I don't think I often sound Catholic (though I could be wrong). However, I do often feel Catholic, and that's when the idea of suicide is most alluring. Those fucking negative introjects can just ruin your whole day! That beastly motherfucking superego nagging! You get that too? It's a bitch, ain't it? Speaking of which, the Überbitch writes (apropos Friday Night Film People "about this guy, who is 'in' film"; an admirably perspicacious use of quotation marks):

"I know women kill but not for sex. We just aren't as passionate about sex to get it by force, and it really disturbs me that men think that's acceptable. What�s up with that? Did they have a messed up childhood with an overprotective, trapezoidal mother?"
OK. All right. I can relate. Personally, I do kill for sex, but she does have a point about Mom. Plus, there's good stuff about how blondes really are as stupid as they seem, and a terrific piece on the science of healthy eating. This is not quite what I was expecting, which was: not much. And then, the capper: "Since I'm a former stripper..." That does it. She's going on the old blogroll. But after Swan, my one true love, who is a current stripper. And besides, we all know what it means to be at the top of my blogroll. I don't need the husband coming after me.

Michele, you are a trip. No no, thank you for reminding me that it's too early to throw in the sponge on the SETI Project.

--
RageBoy®


1:17 AM | link |



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"RageBoy: Giving being fucking nuts a good name since 1985."
~D. Weinberger
28 October 2004

www.flickr.com
Chris Locke's photos More of Chris Locke's photos

Until a minute ago, I had no photos. I still have no photos to speak of. I don't even have a camera. But all these people were linking to "my photos." It was embarassing. It's still embarassing. But I'm used to that.


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