Post-Apocalyptic 2014: The “Hey Guys” Era

September 21

Hey guys
Did you know
That everything
Is
IMPOSSIBLE

September 30, part 1

HEY GUYS I THINK THE SIMPSONS FAMILY GUY CROSSOVER IS FUNNY
GUYS
HEY
HEY GUYS
WHERE ARE YOU GOING

September 30, part 2

I think I probably shat out the best of my brains on message boards long dead
corn chunks of diarrhea in the wind
now I just bleed for the tiniest high
of instant gratification
like like like like like like like like
why work years on a manuscript that won’t ever get published
when you can blast your ass in public
yelling from the digital streetcorner
look at me
thumbs up
look at me
#GoodLuckEbolaChan

October 1, part 1

I’m all about public breast feeding,
but no one is ever going to forget
the day that the Great Jonesboro Titty Flop
killed every old man in Cracker Barrel.

October 2, part 2

Looking for JO partner
to watch Dukes of Hazzard and JO
only original cast no Duke cousins
no touching just guys being together
bros bro-ing off
brostyle
yeeeeeeeeeeeehaw

October 3, part 3

Do you guys remember
when MTV had videos
if you are a kid
watch Hot Tub Time Machine
or jump off a fucking bridge
but everyone else knows
did you watch a scribbly pencil guy
find love in a diner
and the guy with the wrench
fuck that dude
Did it kind of set you up for everything
everything that followed
did it teach you some heroic concept of romance
did you throw yourself against the hall
trying to appear
did you
did
you

October 7

Do you know that feel
where something almost gets you to seriouspost,
but then you are like
no world
you will not trick me into caring
you will not even trick
me
into taking the “which Stephen King Villian Are You?” Quiz
because I already know the answer
it is all of them
Literally, “literally”, LITERALLY
all of them

October 8

“How Did You DIE in Your Past Life?”
Absorbed
Burned
Crushed
Devoured
extinguished by the flood of a thousand monarchies
foiled by my own hubris
gutted
hanged
incinerated
jumped out, grasping for purchase, finding none
kicked by a mule
Love

Click “share” to post this to your 8th grade history notebook

October 9

Toilet seat cover
Why do I care
When you float away
On the lofty mall air

Scientists say
You don’t even work
I wish I could quit you
Ya flimsy-ass jerk

October 12

Hey guys
Hey
I’m gonna watch 50 years of Doctor Who
and then talk about it all the time
hey guys where are you going
guys

October 14

Hey guys
I’m practicing my death rattle
I’m going to be the best death rattler ever

October 15, part 1

Man I am guessing that someday
Every day won’t be some kind of traumatic experience
Right guys
Where are you going
Guys?

October 15, part 2

Praise Ebola-Chan!
there is no mandatory sick leave here
sneeze it up on the sandwiches
from sea to shining sea
have it your way
right away
at internal hemorrhaging now
move over Typhoid Mary
Ebola Claus is coming to town
ho ho ho
Merry Deathmas
Good Luck, Ebola-Chan!

October 16

Guys
It’s almost time
Time for random song lyrics
And nothing else
Hey guys where are you going
Guys
Guys?

October 17

Hey guys hey
the cool thing about being alone
is you can scream whenever you want
just scream
like a wounded animal
that is normal, right?
guys?

October 18, part 1

So like
Guys
did it ever occur to you that Dr. Oz
Is literally The Wizard of Oz

I’m glad that we’re so advanced
into triple reverse meta-irony
you know, as a society
that this thing can be so

October 18, part 2

Hey guys
hey
there was a time
that I was angry about ants
but now I just think of it
as thousands of little friends
hello ants
do you have hopes and dreams
why are you on
my computer screen
maybe you could just cover me
millions, millions of ants
in one big ant hug
guys

October 19

It’s something else to be a dad
when that is pretty much all you ever wanted to be
I used to describe it as that scene in Jurassic Park
where these folks had been digging in the dirt
forever
having awkward scenes with chubby kids
and fossilized raptor claws
and they get taken to this beautiful island on a helicopter ride
and there it is
pull off your sunglasses
grab Laura Dern’s head
and there they are
The Majesty
that’s how I felt when I saw Cora for the first time
or better yet
like staring at the Face of God
here it is
this is Life
and every moment, every moment you teach them
the color of the sky
what is “hot”
what is not
and imagine two, two children
one so small that her favorite pasttime
is sticking both her fists in her mouth
seeing how much drool she can muster
I was told not to write about it, you know
“they’ll read it in court,” they said
“every word.”
Well read this in court, then.
Place it into the permanent record.
I would be honored to hear these words spoken aloud
that I love my children, most of all
you can take THAT
to the bank
Amen

October 20

Sorry whoever you are
Waiting to get into work
I am taking a dump
While listening to the futile pages
A carnival of assumptions
About my location
Just follow the smell
I’m sorry that I’m meek today
Perhaps I should make more
Wounded animal noises
Guys

October 21

Hey guys
Just so you know
95% of the entire human population
Has shown me their love and support
I am eternally grateful
As for the rest of you
Missiles are inbound
Smoke ’em if you got ’em

October 24

hey guys hey
how do I shave my own head
I don’t want to pay $20 for that shit
I am so scared
I can’t see the back
guys
I think I’m just gonna drink beer
and listen to the entire score
from The Last Starfighter
hey guys
where are you going
guys
guys?

October 25

hey guys hey
did you know that
apparently
if that you interrupt The Bedtime Routine
even if it’s to, you know, say goodnight to your children
over the phone
it will totally just ruin everything forever
so it’s best to not even ask
maybe tomorrow, right?
maybe
goodnight babies

October 27, part 1

Hey guys
what’s a good breakfast wine
guys?

October 27, part 2

Hey guys
Is it Lana Del Rey’s job to haunt me like some spooky pop ghost
Is it telling that my phone corrected that to poo goat
Is the wind going to stop making me think that someone’s trying to break in
Is it
Will this toenail keep threatening to become ingrown
Is this new debit card some kind of scam
Why did she steal my paper towels
Who does that
Seriously
Guys

October 28

guys
apparently the lyrics are not
“if you like penis colonics”
why didn’t anyone tell me
guys

October 31

Hey guys
When do I get to stop having
all these goddamned emotions

November 4

Hey guys
are you tired of driving to the county line
I sure am
screw any level of important change you know
that is my main concern
also it won’t take long to vote because
you live in a rich white Republican area
ten minutes tops
not like all those poor folks
who have to wait in line for 12 hours
just to find out they aren’t registered
so just do it
rock the vote
while drinking your Diet Coke
I KNOW WHY THE RAGE BIRD SCREAMS

November 6

Hey guys
Do you ever stare at Facebook
For hours
Fruitlessly
In search of answers

Hahaha that’s fucking stupid

November 7

Hey guys
Today i got to spend twenty very stressful minutes with my kids
Still totally worth it
Then my mom assisted me in filling out three hours worth of legal paperwork
Thanks mom
Boss let me off early to accomplish all that
Thanks boss
Lots of folks have been very cool to me
Thanks guys
I’m gonna take a nap
Hopefully have nice dreams about my babies
Things will be better
Someday

November 14

Why does the radio station (all of them)
Talk about “the weekend”
Who the fuck has those?
I think least six Supertramp tunes
Might be my theme song
Unfortunately, I don’t know any other songs
Because of The Aforementioned Radio
Also
When it feels that your life’s become a catastrophe
Oh, it has to be
Because you are incapable of learning until the Mistake Freight Train of Doom drives right up your ass
Pretty sure that’s how that goes
Anyway, guys
It’s Friday Friday Friday
Time for your non-existent weekend
At least courts and legal offices are closed
Catch your breath
The beatings will reconvene
Shortly

November 20

Write screed about politics, delete
Whine about personal life, delete
Vaguebook about personal life
Metapost, delete
Metapost about Metaposting
Stare deep into Facebook looking for answers
Push down rage
Mull, stew, gnash
Repeat

November 21

terrible day.
ate an embarrassing amount of Mexican food
glad such things still help
would be hell if they didn’t

November 25

I Love Facebook
the absolutely most effective steam valve ever
for white people to argue
about whatever
and then do nothing

aaaaand I’m spent

November 28

I’m glad Christmas is here
so we can all forget
about that thing what was it
something something something
burn this Motherfucker down

December 1

Hey guys
So, many of my friends changed their profile pics to Pokemons today
I was like “why this resurgence, I mean, pocketmonsters never really went out of style?”
(this was me talking to myself, I do this often when I am alone or bored or with other people)
but then I heard the news
that Pikachu was found dead at age 18
overdosed on Red Bull and ham sandwiches
Why did it have to happen now?
I even remember the first time I had a Red Bull and ham sandwich
I was at Babbage’s
the store not the analytical steam engine
there was this wall that opened into a back room and this guy with a beard and a Pac Man tshirt was like HEY
HEY KID
do you want the taste sensation that’s sweeping the nation?
you dip the ham sandwich into the Red Bull like a reuben
except not
That was when I first met Pikachu
so young and full of vim and vigor
if only I could have known
that someday there would be this interconnected series of tubes
where people Yahoo! chat into the long dark hours of 12:34 am
playing their Everquest and Napstering all their favorite songs
maybe we could have harnessed all that power for good
instead of THROWING IT AWAY
spending our inheritances on Livestrong bracelets
LIKE AND SHARE IF YOU ARE A 90s KID LIVING INSIDE AN 80s KID WHO IS TECHNICALLY A 70s KID

[ENTERED AS EXHIBIT X
THE PEOPLE OF EARTH vs BOB TALBOT]

December 3

Everyone thinks they’re the hero of their own story
when it’s much more likely they’re the bad guy
or at least the bad guy of someone else’s.
Everything’s really not that binary, of course
but it’s not as exciting to be Mediocre Wo/Man
and everyone sure does love excitement.
I think that’s the reason we write villains as bumbling
and heroes are basically gods
the heroes are what we want to be
the villains are what we are

December 5

Hey guys
I know that things seem pretty terrible right now
but you need to remember
that at least you aren’t Bob Talbot

December 16

Hey guys
I’m starting a new thing
if I post something and it doesn’t have any likes
or comments
within a couple of hours
I’m deleting it
because that puts a lot of negative pressure on my ego
and I crave your sweet sweet attention
i wish you all deserved my genius
instead of being shitty swamp apes
maybe someday
you’ll rise to the occasion
did you hear about all those dead foreign children
it was between Angelina’s chicken pox
and Bill Cosby’s penis.

December 17

hey guys
check your feels at the door
because when you interrupt me
while I’m obviously sprinting to get something
to ask for a book
on narcissistic personality disorder
WELP

December 24

I’m gonna write one of those self help books for young people
called “Oh God, Life is Awful: You Don’t Even Know”
The older I get the more apparent it becomes
that everyone pretty much fucking hates everything.

We should be teaching this shit in elementary school.
Instead of reciting the Pledge of Allegiance every day they should be reciting the Bob Talbot Pledge of Failure:

I solemnly swear
that every idea I have is bad
and even when I think I’ve figured something out
i haven’t
also
while I would definitely be crushed into oblivion
no matter what I decide
for it is the nature of the universe
i will certainly make things worse through my actions
because I am a sick, complicated monkey monster
headed for the entropy trash heap of existence
amen

The Rest of 2015 in Shitty Poetry

March 9

Hey guys
I love watching John Oliver
So I can know what to be enraged about
While I do nothing about it
*jumps on fixie and rides off into sunset,
beard whipping behind in the wind*

March 21

Dump Stories

So I’m popping a work squat
And some dude occupies the next stall
He sits and starts grunting
Says “you can’t…”
I’m thinking “you can’t what?”
I look over and he’s wearing the same shoes I am
The exact fucking shoes
He’s already gone. Efficient.
I’m still here working on these hemorrhoids.

March 31

I fired up the old Narcissism Machine
Slacktivismed and Hashtified
flailed, histrionic
the gnashing of belief
mulled the perks of sociopathy
took a day off
to gaze navelward, skyward
Epiphanies: 0

April 10

Hey Pentecostal girls
smoking an E-cig in the romance aisle
Puffing, snapping selfies
All hair and denim
One thing for damn certain
Mom and Dad will reap what they have sown

April 13, part 1

So,
hey hey
My my
The status quo will never die
Stab yourself right in the eye
Give Hilldawg all your dollars

April 13, part 2

Guys
I just invented the time machine
First things first
I’m not a fan of Beanie Babies being the world currency
This beanie duffel is mighty inconvenient
So frustrating to make change

April 14

Guys
We can have four more years of Joe Biden as VP
Possibly eight
Just imagine The Onion articles
This Trans-Am ride never has to end
It’s completely legal
I googled it
Some of you folks have connections
Call somebody
Fire up some Billy Squire
Let’s stroke

April 23

So
Someday, when $15/hr victory is won
And the minimum wage workers of America
Claw their way up Maslow’s pyramid
To where I sit
When they can pay the rent
Feed the kids
Who is going to legislate away the self hatred
Of running a register
Hurtling towards forty
Making bachelor’s degree lattes
Who’s going to pass a law
Answer that shit

April 29

Ode to Bea

I’m so happy to be a booger monster
I love the window, why doesn’t it love me
I’m so happy to smash up all the crackers
I love the toilet, why doesn’t it love me
I’m so happy to play with sister’s toys
I love the bathtub, why doesn’t it love me
I’m so happy to make big diaper dumps
I love the kitchen floor why doesn’t it love me
I’m so happy to pull my sister’s hair
I love the crib rail, why doesn’t it love me
I’m so happy to be a booger monster

May 4

To make film reference
OR to be edgy asshole
Third option?
Or step into fourth
Fifth side if possible
Go back in time
Toss baby Lucas off a cliff

June 20

Where in Seattle
Do you buy a flag
Of Southern Oppression
And, burning that rag
Might give you a thrill
As if you actually did something today

Other than giving money to China
Other than getting fake Internet points
Other than busting that liberal nut

If you won’t tear it from a pole
If you won’t tear it from a pick-up
If you won’t tear it from the hands of a screaming son of the confederacy

Save your nickels and give them to charity

July 4

Thanks Too: Electric Boogaloo

Thanks for The Police, I really like that song
the one about not standing too close to them
is that why they shoot all those
unarmed black people?

Thanks for that tyrannical flag
The one that flew over the boys in grey
or the ones in blue
or olive drab
or digital pea soup vomit

Thanks Obama for all these jobs
low wage, internships, temp
minimum wage
maximum rage

Thanks for Sanders, Feelin’ the Bern
herding the kids ’cause it’s Hillary’s Turn

thanks for the three dollar gas
the four dollar eggs
the fourteen dollar steak

Thanks for the marriage
Thanks for victim blaming
Thanks for slut shaming
Thanks for the Wrath of God
Thanks for the Wrath of Man
Thanks for the Wrath of Khan

Bagpipes.
And that song that won’t stop playing.

June 23

Governments clamor to pull down the banner
We’re busting a liberal nut
Walmart and Amazon won’t sell that rag
And we’re busting a liberal nut
Seattle burns imported novelty flags
So we all bust a liberal nut
Texted and tweeted and shared and hashtagged
Let’s all bust us some liberal nuts

Gay marriage this week so it’s time to forget
All the Jenners, and transethnic fakers, and yet
The nation is pumping with progressive sweat
While we bust out this liberal nut

Please wake us next shooting
It’s time for a rest
After busting these liberal nuts

September 10

It’s such job security
No one stacks these games like me
How long before they realize
I cost what two teens make?
Palpitations
Mistake!

September 13

Flaking, popping, Brundle-Bob
But never do I become Fly
Ever festering and sloughing
Thirtysomething asshole guy

September 21

Maybe I’m the kind of shit guy
Who would buy that HIV drug
And hike the price
Because you won’t do anything but cry
I double dog dare you

September 23

Fall 7 times
get up 11
Don’t need 9 lives
All dogs go to heaven
Eat pray love
Fuck prey and EAT
I bust phat rhymes
That fit in a TWEET

September 30

Damn you George
I will never sell my stake
In the Wheal Leisure mine
Who do you take me for?
FUCKING FRANCIS

October 1, part 1

I support mass euthanasia
for neckbearded impotent rage
despite all my white knight malaise, yeah
I am still just a rat in a cage
maybe it’s time to stop caring
somebody set up us the bomb
perhaps it is time they stop living
oh so fragrant, in basements, with mom

Maybe it’s time to start screaming
Maybe it’s time to name names
Maybe it’s time we admitted
it’s just ethics in video games

October 1, part 2

The Blame Game, or
Ode to Conservative Emergency Response

You’ll be shot by neckbeards and told it’s all your fault.
You’ll be murdered by cops and it’s all your damned fault.
You’ll be raped by frat guys and it’s somehow your fault.
You want fries with that? That shit job is your fault.
The hurricane drowns you and it’s all your fault.
Can’t afford cancer treatment, but that’s all your fault.
A drone bombed your wedding and that’s all your fault.
You got an abortion so it’s all your fault.
Your city is burning and it’s just your fault.
You loved the wrong person and now it’s your fault.
Face down on the beach in the sand it’s your fault.
You’ll fear everything, and so that’s all your fault.
You voted or didn’t and it’s all your fault.
You tried and you failed and it’s always your fault.
You worked and you slaved and you died it’s your fault
your fault it’s your fault it’s your fault it’s your fault

October 4

Famous people hanging out
hanging out
hanging out
Famous people hanging out
nobody gives a FUCK
(circle circle dot dot nowIgotmycoolguyshot)

October 5

They pile the desks against the door
instead of curling under them
another murder drill goes by
like klaxons of a bygone war
no nuclear terror from the sky
(although that could come any day)
but threats from angry flaccid guys
erect to finally have their way

They lock to keep them in and out
to fire marshal’s sheer dismay
while parents argue, fret, and shout
The Facebook hits and shares and likes
the screeds and essays thrown about
while talk show hosts tell jokes no more
laypersons, experts, gnash and wail
militia men: “my cold dead hands”

That death should stalk the tiny ones
’tis something foreign they will say
to watch a child before you grow
to university and then
struck down by coworker or friend
your heart detached in other’s hands
is something for a distant land
Afghanistan or Turkish bays

Remember, little Alamo
The Hook that always brings us back
a dank quatrain that doesn’t rhyme
and Reese’s Pieces by the sack
so next time just go fuck yourself
two hours spent insomniac
attempting healing poetry
this nihilistic fucking hack

October 11, part 1

If you’re going to be late
Be late making love
Be late listening to The Breeze until the horns kick in

October 11, part 2

Paint all your carcinogens pink
Pink cigarettes
Pink factory emissions
Pink farm chemicals

Shut down the clinics and just paint the buildings pink
Dump all the vaccines into the ocean and dye the waters pink
Like albino rabbit eyes
Pink drill bits, pink cops shooting kids

Paint the cemeteries pink

I just fucking cured cancer
I’ll take one awareness statue in the center of every metropolitan area
Pink

October 14, part 1

Hey guys
Remember back before you had
The Database of Everything in your pocket
When everyone was self-actualized
And paid attention
LOL

October 14, part 2

Sweet progressives
go to sleep
Uncle Bernie’s
counting sheep
When he’s finished
You can rest
Your weary heads
‘pon Clinton’s breast

October 28

Fat titty man who can’t run a mile
can’t get it up?
just murder a child!

Fat titty man, come back from the wars
can’t get employed
look what we’ve got in store!

A blue uniform for you, fat titty man
a bottle of gin
and a gun in fat hand

A short education in who you must shoot
what they look like, what color
what a fine-tittied brute!

Fat titty man sometimes forgets the rules
Shoots a white kid in braces
on camera, fools

In walks America, Video Sleuth!
(from CSI watching
and Bones with The Booth)

Consider it accident, that’s how it goes
when you smoke Mary Jane
in pedestrian zones

So that story ends until fat pig repeats
and maybe next time shoots
your kid in the streets

November 6

The endless cognitive dissonance
of factory fires and children’s smiles
of crushing concrete and squeaky baby shoes
of swollen hands and jingling toys
of bleeding lungs and camera clicks
of moldy dorms and memories
The Gap that we can only bridge
with Merry Fucking Christmas

A weary face before you asks
just for a name, and nothing else
a collection of some sounds to shout
above the din of murmuring businessmen
why not yell Merry Christmas?

This coffee can’t be brewed for naught!
no, beans procured under a whip
and bought for less than what they’re worth
brought here to sell for far too much
prepared by hands who’ll never touch
a steering wheel the likes of yours
expertly marked with regal crest,
a thundering two ton chariot
constructed to fight suburban wars
in big box stores
for imported piles of multicolored plastic
stocked by people who must be less
be paid less
paid back for their mistake
of Having Less in America
(yet still more
than dirty foreign faces
in the trickle-down races
to the bottom
of we don’t care)

but then, again, the stab, it strikes
the conflict of the things we know
that Jesus died upon the cross(?)
his name bestowed upon this orgy
the neverending celebration
of industrialized civilization
does not rhyme
does not ring true
is not in tune
with fists thrown over TV sets
with scratching, screaming, over dolls
That lost forgotten Feast of Thanks
we cancelled for a shopping spree

Two magic words, they spring to mind
the salve that soothes the mass confusion
capitalistic abracadabra
to spread upon our thought contusion
Say it louder,
Merry Christmas
we can make it all worthwhile
the stars in clear December skies
outnumber still, the mangled lives
entire continents wait untouched
their virgins aching for the thrust
of Merry Fucking Christmas

November 19

The further dropping of pretense
is part of the natural progression
Heritage nowhere to be seen
just the red-faced Red State scream
of “Terror!”

The issue, since the dawn of time
the limitation of The Game
is not enough companion slots
though many have tried, in vain
to upgrade

How many faces are, to you
A Person and not Some Strange Ape
Fifty, a hundred? And then there’s what?
Zeroes stretching vast, across continents

The Great Ones did develop hacks
to fit more Zeroes in a slot
A Category, if you will
A Place to shove the Foreign Ape
Alike enough to stay the hand
gripped ’round sharp rock
Sometimes

This shoddy software limited
by hardware meaty, moody, Man
racing against the deadlines
of multiplication
versus devastation

So, unsurprising as it is
to see it played time and again
The Sting of What’s Alike, to me,
seems like enough to stay our hands
gripped ’round sharp keyboards, triggers, rocks

I hope that I can keep a spot
for children curled against the sand
and shaking, burly, Southern Men
both people, too
but is there room
in here?

November 22

Clap your hands and stomp your feet
Feel the Bern of Willie Pete
Trump’s a Nazi! Hipsters moan
vote for Inevitable Perón!
Single Payer is for whiners
Need eyeglasses? call the Shriners

November 23

Happy Birthday Miley Cyrus
Happy Birthday Doctor Who
Happy Birthday Boris Karloff.
Harpo Marx, and Snookie, too

December 1, part 1

A Happy December to all you baristas
I never knew coffee would be
a precise undertaking so meticulous
it requires a bachelor’s degree

A hot, Merry Christmas to all you baristas
and a new year so joyous and free
perhaps they’ll promote you to shift manager
after you finish your Ph.D

December 1, part 2

The Shittiest Generation
storming the beaches of Facebook
dying on the islands of Reddit
shot down over Twitter
succumbing in the Tumblr camps
Born too late for glorious musketry
Born too soon to ravage star clusters
Born just in time to browse dank memes
Wikidiots know everything and nothing
(look that up in your Funk & Wagnalls)
Human Googlepede
diarrhea Ouroboros
desensitized
LiveLeak piles of YouTube bodies
This rectangle’s warm cocoon
Makes Drone Pilot look good
compared to Grill Commander
Professor Coffee
Stockboy Man
Here’s to exciting times
Here’s to the Flea Circus
Here’s to peeking out Skinner Box doors
but staying in
just for a moment
Here’s to being bored until The Next Horror
Here’s to music
Here’s to victory
Here’s to the trees

December 26

I love the fucking 26th
When we discard the joy and mirth
All pretense dropped, and what remains?
The seething carnal dull-eyed gaze
as teeth rip into clearance racks
of hot post-Christmas afterbirth

December 27

I wish I were a fandom geek
Hell, I’d know everything!
Those Writers would all bow to me
The Science Fiction King!

the plotholes! What they should have done!
why, if I were around
I’d fix it lest they fly this franchise
straight into the ground!

I’d have the greatest references
’cause I’ve seen everything
I’ve read and listened watched and learned
Extended Universes burned
and even through fanfiction yearned
for cross and slash and species turned
to robot foxes, it’s confirmed
I’d be the chosen one,
the nerd who wields the magic ring!

I wish I were The Fandom Lord
the story catalogs I’d hoard
into my fanny pack on board
My Starship, Criticism Ford

My stories layered! Onions! Shrek!
Bartholomew and the Oobleck
flows forth from the Dark Tower’s deck
to mix your favorites all to heck

And if you think I’ve gone insane
just wait for the Public Domain
the fairy tales ripe for the plucking
picture Cinderella fucking
Sherlock Holmes, Odysseus,
Cardassians from Deep Space Nine

I want to be The Fandom God
Fanatical fantastic Zod
Impale them all upon my ROD
THE WIKIGEEKY UBERMOD

I WANT TO BE GALACTUSNERD
AND SHOVE IT ALL INSIDE
MY GAPING ANUS OF OPINIONS
TERRIBLE AND SNIDE

I WANT TO SCREAM IN TERROR
AT THE THINGS I CAN’T CONTROL
I WANT TO LEAVE THIS BASEMENT
AND CLIMB OUT THIS WRETCHED HOLE

I wish I were a fandom geek
perhaps I would enjoy a thing
to make it perfect, hold it dear
the tears would flow, the angels, sing

I will never forget the Internet thing that just happened

Oh my. This has changed my life forever.

I was minding my own business, scrolling through my Facebook feed, when I noticed that a celebrity had died. I double checked Twitter just to be sure. Yes, indeed. Someone had gone before their time. “Their time” being, “Whenever I am comfortable with them not living anymore, which is never.” (I’m not okay with that unless they did something bad.) 

Wait, it gets worse. So, all this is going on and I’m devastated, absolutely wrecked, by the notion that this person I haven’t thought about in seventeen months won’t be around anymore, and I see it: Political Post.

“Oh no, Political Post. You aren’t getting me today! I’m a seasoned Facebook veteran, but wait! There’s a video with big black bars across the bottom and top with a message telling me what to believe. I cannot resist this message.” I clicked Share.

Then the memes came. Good meme, bad meme, sad meme, dank meme. I liked some, but then I thought better of it and said a quick prayer to Zuckerberg before changing them to Happy Faces, Wow Faces, Crying Faces, and even an Angry Face! I love Angry Face because it lets people know that this particular meme penetrated the crust of my blackened soul and caused a hormonal rush, but it didn’t really. (I’m way past having actual human emotions. I’m just going through the motions with this meat bag puppet show.) 

“I find myself informed now,” I thought. “I know shit and I have the answers and by grabs I’m going to let the Earth know, all 449 people on my friends list and maybe some of their friends (unless they have unfollowed me, a prospect that makes me wake in the dead of the night in a cold sweat, heart pounding, out of a dream where I am screaming projectile vomit shit into a blue toilet and the shit is filled with corn husk words) and I will let them know that we have to do it. We have to do this thing right now, the line is drawn here! No further!

How magical it is, how wondrous, to have this constant influx of information, real and streaming directly into our minds without having to read a book or attend a seminar. There are no classes here at the School of Dank Knocks, the Meme Streets, just pure unadulterated facts, which I will regurgitate into your open mouths like a mother bird with her young. I am the mother. I am the Queen Mother of the Fucking Internet!”

The shock had just set in when a celebrity did something else. Coffee caught in my throat as my chest began to hitch. “Not destroying another laptop today!” my shriveled spirit screamed as I stumbled to the sink, spurting caffeinated spray before me with each step and showering myself in a beautiful brown mist.

I heaved into the garbage disposal. Tears ran down my face. Images flashed through my mind. Zoos. Football stadiums. The Humanity. Podiums. Stick figures. Explosions. The Horror.

It hit me like a bolt of lightning. I lit up, enveloped by a beam from the Mothership, the scales fell from my eyes, and I knew what I had to do. “It’s the only way to let them know I’ve learned all the answers,” I bellowed to no one, “that somehow though sheer force of will I’ve gleaned some special property from the same churning swill of sewage they’ve drowned in and I’ve floated to the top, King Shit, the Main Turd, the Biggest Dump of Them All!” 

My fingers flew across apps, Google, the Greater Internets. “I HOLD THE KEY. I AM THE RIGHTEOUS ONE. CLICK LIKE AND SHARE MY FRIENDS, WE ARE ON OUR WAY TO THE PROMISED LAND.” 

Harambe (1)

Red, Gold, and Green

All my kids want to do is watch those terrible Play-Doh videos on YouTube. It’s not just Play-Doh. They unwrap toys. There are people in homemade Olaf costumes who perform inane skits in someone’s backyard. This vexes me. I am vexed.

Late Capitalism shouldn’t surprise me at this point. The commercials become the show. The ad becomes the star. I find myself rooting for Disney’s attorneys at this point. There’s a fucker on here creating a narrative with Elsa from Frozen and some jackasses dressed up like Spider-Man and the Hulk. Cease and Desist. Cease and Desist!

Stop complaining about Millennials, America. There’s a younger generation here right now and I’m not sure how they’re going to machine tools in caves when civilization collapses. Tony Stark may have done it with a box of scraps but I have to hide the Netflix screen or the kids will change their minds about what we’re watching at least 17 times before I’m able to hit Play.

Last night, Gina pointed out that they probably won’t even remember this shit. Sure, it’s constructing the architecture of their brains, but they won’t have autobiographical memories about it, just a general feeling of uneasiness unless small, brightly colored packages are constantly being opened six inches from their eyeballs.

Then again, I remember shitting myself while I watched The Dukes of Hazzard and I couldn’t have been more than 18 months old at the time. It’s the earliest thing I clearly recall. The next thing that immediately comes to mind is when the neighbor kid read one of my animal books out loud and recited the words to “Karma Chameleon” instead of the actual text of the entry on chameleons. The song was better, anyway.

Did these events have lasting effects? I do enjoy sweet jumps and jean shorts (viewing, not wearing). I have a general distaste for the Confederate Flag and the color orange, though, so it didn’t all stick. I am wary of law enforcement but you can also chalk that up to Smokey and the Bandit and every other 1970s or 1980s race, chase, heist, and action film, or, perhaps, the systematic oppression of the poor and people of color in the United States of America since forever and ever, Amen! Maybe it was that.

I do, however, still enjoy the works of George Alan O’Dowd. We are shotgunned with culture. Some of it sticks, and some of it doesn’t. Culture Club almost always does.

When I do the math, though, there must have been years between those two events, so we get a handful of memories before four or five years of age if we’re lucky? The age difference there correlates with the gulf between my children’s development levels. It’s strange to think that Coraline, at just over four, may be able to retrieve these things later, while Beatrix, at just over two, is probably bouncing around like a little automaton.

I have other early memories, but it seems like they all took place when I was four or older, like when we went to the hospital to see Mom when Lauren was born, or when I crawled through the weird double closet in our old house to enter her room and stare at her as she slept in her crib.

One time I knocked a fishing pole off the wall in the garage, which ended up driving a fishhook all the way through one of my fingers. I dragged it, pole and all, up to the front door and yelled for Mom. I also distinctly recall the time I plugged a vacuum cleaner into the outlet on top of one of my tiny fingers and rode the lightning, as they say. Then there was the time Mom actually did ride the lightning when she got struck while talking on the phone during a storm. I was pretty sure she was dead.

The early things that stuck with me, which all occurred after the Hazzard Incident but before Lauren’s birth, seem to have pain or fear in common. The Incident itself is no exception. I’ve run this by Mom before and she thinks this must have been The Crappening after which I potty trained myself. I saw a big fudge wave, a doo doo snake, crawl down my chubby baby leg, and I couldn’t have had the words but I absolutely know the feeling, which was, “What the fuck is that?” At that point, I, still a baby but now an aware baby, decided to stop shitting my pants.

Was this the instant consciousness finally bubbled up through my forming brain? The more I reflect on it, the more I am sure it was the moment I became more than an animal, a mammal, a primate.
It was when I became a small human, a little person who shat himself while he watched The Dukes of Hazzard and resolved to never do so again.

I shit therefore I am.

My fear is that my kids will come into being while we watch some dude peel a Play-Doh Barbie from a giant plastic egg. I guess it isn’t so bad. It probably won’t happen unless they have a “Eureka!” moment while stubby man-fingers carefully remove salty modeling compound from oversized Easter merchandise, but it could.

Maybe this is the recipe for human consciousness. Maybe it’s discomfort, poop, and the developing human brain.

“Oh my God, I am a meat sack.”

Welcome to life, kid. Don’t forget to flush.