Of fond memories and a closer look at who you regulars actually are

So I was recently lying on the floor in my room playing with a dirty sock and contemplating the various attempts by the establishment to save my young soul from the scary world lurking outside my front door. Apparently said scariness can be accessed via the internet, meaning that a portal to this world has been sitting in my living room all this time. How dreadful.

I attended an internet safety assembly at school a few years ago. I'm sure you've had to sit through one of these at some point. (Gasp, I just busted the SHIT out of that fourth wall! Edgy!) I think it was called something like "Date Rape: Pros and Cons". The lady told us about how easy it is to find people over the internet. She pulled up some Myspace page and we watched as she took things like a first and last name and turned it into a phone number, an address, a class schedule, a pantie size, and a list of fears. The girls in the audience were successfully scared out of their wits; the boys all took notes.

She also went over the dangers of chat rooms. She showed us some video where the kids all talk about how they were just in some AOL chat room and next thing they know they had been raped. That's right, they don't have to be present to rape you. They can just upload a picture of their penis or something and you've been raped right proper. Once again, all of the boys scribbled furiously in their notebooks in unison.

At the end of the presentation, she asked for questions. No one dared raise their hand. No one, that is, except for me.

"Yes, you in the back in the shirt that says 'I got lucky on Myspace'?"



Ultimately, that's all I got out of it: how to become a pedophile. I thought about it, to be honest. Maybe I have a future in stalking. I mean, let's face it. Consensual sex is waaay underrated when you take into account all the B.S. you have to put up with to get it. (Or so I'm told, I'm a virgin for just this reason.) Perhaps hateful, violent rape after weeks of trickery and lies would make my sexual frustration that much easier to manage.

Probably not. But I don't really care.

As long as we're on the topic, I think I'd better turn the camera right around at you, Mr. Blog Reader. I've just had the most interesting little chat with my blog statistics and came up with a rather disturbing bit of information. Apparently, 33% of you who got to this blog via Google search were looking up, and I quote, "how to get turtles to fuck you".

I can only imagine that this has something to do with a bastardization of my blog on turtles (which had nothing to do with scoring with them) and...well, let's face it, just about any of my other posts.

No, I shouldn't blame you and your reptile fetishes entirely. I need to find a new direction. This is a message. I need to retool, rebuild, re...fuck turtles? No wait, that's what attracted all you pervs in the first place. (Not that you shouldn't continue to read, I'll take anyone I can. Also, if you ever do learn how to get a turtle to fuck you, I want footage.) I should probably start blogging about things other than fucking and animals and fucking animals. What do you guys want to read about? Comments this blog with any topic and I will blog about it in a future post.

Suck on that, turtle.

And yes, I'm talking about my dick.

Wait, come back!



orian57 said...

Talk about me.

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