You’re not texting me, we’re talking. Stop talking like that.

Here’s an easy “friend test” that you can try at home.  If any of your friends actually say “lol” or “brb” as part of everyday conversation than they are not your friends.  Delete their names out of your phone; remove them from Facebook; get rid of them how ever you get rid of people on Twitter; remove them from your bulk email list (also, top yourself for forwarding bulk emails you time wasting fuck).  People who actually verbalise these words are clearly not people you need to be associated with.  These people aren’t even people.  They’re fucking cavemen.

I’m pretty embarrassed to be part of the generation which is actively pursuing a course of language evolution that will inevitably result in the general population being dumber than the one before it.  What ever happened to “standing on the shoulders of giants” and all that shit?  You know, the advancement of the human race?  No generation should be worse off than the one before it.  Way to fuck that plan up, generation Y.  Bunch of skinny leg jean wearing, flat brimmed to the side, text talking, mother fuckers.

I get it, alright.  You type “lol” in a text to save characters and to minimise the chances of carpel tunnel (by the way, how fucking hilarious is it going to be when an entire generation needs to have their carpel tunnels done from “text related injuries”) by reducing the amount of work your hands have to do.  Okay, it’s convenient and saves time.  KEEP IT IN A FUCKING TEXT MESSAGE OR CHAT ROOM THEN!  Next person that says “lol” instead of laughing when I talk to them is getting taken the fuck down.  I’m going to recreate that scene from American History X.

It’s not edgy; it’s not funny; it’s not witty.  You’re a fucking moron and every time you say the word “lol” instead of actually lolling, more people know that you’re a fucking moron.  It’s not like you have to pay 24 cents every time you make a statement to your friends when you’re having a face-to-face conversation.  You’re not saving time.  “Hey man, good chat.  I really gotta pee though, so brb.”  REALLY, FUCKHEAD?  You’re going to be right back?  Well why the fuck couldn’t you say that?  All those words are monosyllable words you illogical fuck-stick.  You didn’t save time by saying “brb” instead of “be right back.”  It takes the same amount of effort to pronounce the letters as it does to say the word.  Nice going fuckhead.  Instead of saving time be pretending we’re in a chat room, you’ve wasted my time by making me interpret the gibberish coming out of your suck hole.  I seriously want to shove an anvil in it you’re making me so fucking angry.

I seriously had a conversation with one of my “friends” who attempted to momentarily remove himself from said conversation by stating he was “AFK.”  I was like, “FROM WHAT KEYBOARD, FUCKHEAD!  YOU’RE LITERALLY STANDING IN FRONT OF ME!  THERE IS NO KEYBOARD!”  Kid played so much WoW he was conditioned to tell people he was AFK when ever he had to take a fucking piss.  With that in mind, we’re doomed. 

I can’t even fucking read text messages from anyone 16 years or under!  “hey u c u @ da shops l8er”  FUCKING WHAT?  What god damn language are you speaking?  There’s no ‘8’ in ‘later’ you illiterate fuck.  Could you imagine how fucking terrible Shakespeare would be if it were written today?  “2 b or not 2 b.  Dat is da ??? Weather tis n0bla in da mind 2 suffa da slingz & arrows of otragous 4tune…”  It’s fucking appalling.  Texting has seriously become a lower form of communication amongst the under evolved generations in greater society.  What’s worse is that it is now flowing over in to regular vernacular.  If I was an expecting mother, I would rather abort than bring a child in to that kind of world.

BRAD!

Open Letters to people and companies that I actually sent

I know, dear reader, that you think that I do all of my writing just for you.  That I am your little show pony; that everything I do is for your entertainment.  Well, I’m sorry, you self involved jerk, but I write to other people as well.  Sometimes when I get bored, I write emails to people I know will never reply.  If you don’t believe me, feel free to check out my old writings from the naughties at http://dear-rove.livejournal.com.  I find it amusing to send stupid emails to people that you know are just far too busy to actually read your emails because, well, you’re a nobody.  I’m not though.  I’m a somebody…but no one else knows.  I’m getting side tracked though.  You would be amazed just how many companies and even individuals have policies regarding their emails.  Rove, for example had a policy that every email would be read.  As does Richard Branson and many, many corporations.  So, armed with that knowledge, I know that it won’t be Rove or Dick that reads my emails to them…but someone does.  That’s all the audience I need.

I trawled through my old outboxes from various emails accounts and found some of the emails I sent to people that I am sure never read them…but very much hope that someone did.  If not, well, I am sharing them with you now.

 Dear Jessica Alba,

            People rave about how hot you are.  I can see it in the body, but half the time, I think I should be offended by your face.  I’m not sure why though.  I was hoping you could tell me why everyone thinks you are so beautiful when really it looks like you just finished making out with a vacuum cleaner.

BRAD!

Dear Richard Branson,

            I was hoping that you might want to give me $20,000.  I’m not a charity and I don’t plan on doing anything noble with the money.  I just wondered if anyone just flat out asks you for money for no good reason.  I was kind of hoping I was the first.  Since I’m not asking for much (in your terms) I thought you might consider it on the basis of the originality of the idea.  I might even put it all on black.  Let me know.

BRAD!

Dear Captain Planet,

We need you more than ever.  Where the fuck are you?  Gaia is DYING!

BRAD!

In case you are wondering, I sent that one to Ted Turner.  Yes, that Ted Turner.  He created Captain Planet.  I also sent him this email:

Dear Ted Turner,

Go to hell you ugly, old fascist.

BRAD!

Dear George Lucas,

            I’ve been doing some thinking…You made the Star Wars trilogy…and then the new trilogy, right?  Steven Spielberg has made Jaws, Jurassic Park, Indiana Jones, ET, Schindler’s List and has executive produced Back to the Future, Band of Brothers, United States of Tara and Transformers.  There’s more, I just got bored.  What’s going on, buddy?  The score is like a million to three.  Pick up your game.

BRAD!

Dear Britney,

            Stop it.

BRAD!

Dear Gwen Stefani,

            Did I spell your name right?  Anyway, I was hoping you could help me out with something.  I heard that song ‘Boom Boom Pow’ on the radio the other day.  What the fuck does it mean when she goes, “you’re so two thousand and late, I’m so three thousand and eight?”  I know that you didn’t write the song, but I figured you might be able to speak Fergi’s language on account of the fact that you wrote a song where you stated that you, “Ain’t no holla back girl.”  I mean, both lyrics are equally retarded; I’m just giving you the benefit of the doubt on account of the fact of your No Doubt days.  Have you ever looked up the lyrics to any Black Eyed Peas song?  They’re just awful.  I can’t help but assume they were written with a crayon and backwards letters.

BRAD!

Dear Origin Energy,

            I think my hot water system is broken.  It doesn’t matter which tap I turn on, the water comes out the same temperature.  I even tried prying off the little cap with the red ‘R’ on it on top of the faucet and sticking it on the other faucets around the house but that didn’t work either.  I didn’t really do that, I’m just bored while I wait for the kettle to boil.  Seriously though, my hot water is fucked.

BRAD!

Dear Mum,

            I was just wondering if you remember when and where I was conceived.  I only ask because I’ve been doing some maths.  You see, as you know, I was born in early September (the 4^th, if you believe my birth certificate…which I have no reason to doubt).   You might also be aware that I was a few weeks premature.  If you count backwards, that puts the date of my conception to be right around New Year…Mum, was I an accident?

BRAD!

It was later confirmed that, yes, I indeed was and accident.  In fact, I believe the quote is, “You were the best mistake to ever bless this family.”  Yeah, good save mum.  That’s what makes me feel warm inside…that and high quality rums.  She didn’t have any more kids after me, so at least she learnt her lesson.  Hi mum, by the way if you’re reading this.

BRAD!

Answers to stupid questions asked of Google

As you’re all very aware by now, I have a pretty low opinion of pretty much anybody that isn’t me.  I think that as a population, people are stupid, thoughtless, un-calculating, unquestioning followers and just generally slaves to whomever has the loudest voice and the best iphone app on the end of a stick (no one eats carrots anymore).  Anyway, in today’s electronic age, a good education and a thorough understanding of the world around us has been surpassed by the ease and convenience of a quick Google search.  With that in mind, I thought the best way possible to prove that humans are, as I stated, stupid, thoughtless and moronic (I didn’t say moronic before, people are fucking morons) was to use their tool of information against them.  My plan is to use the Google search engine to highlight the stupidity of the most advanced beings on the planet.

As usual, I am going to assume that my readers, like most people, are fucking idiots.  So listen up because school is in.  Basically, Google has an ‘auto-complete’ function (for all you pre-pubescent sluts out there, it’s just like your little ‘predictive text’ shit on your mobile phone) that opens a drop box filled with suggestions of things you might be going to type based on what you already have typed.  Are you keeping up?  It’s pretty fucking involved and you’re pretty fucking dumb.  Well, all of those suggestions are based on the most commonly searched for things on Google by your fellow idiot…uh, I mean ‘man.’

With that thought in mind, I typed in simple words that are often found at the start of questions.  I typed in words like; ‘is,’ ‘who,’ ‘how,’ ‘when,’ ‘where,’ ‘why,’ ‘what’ and ‘does.’  I allowed the auto complete list to generate and I will now address some of the choicer questions for you here.  Relax, I didn’t answer them all, so once you are done here you can go and  have a look at just how fucking retarded A LOT of people are to ask questions like these.  I also recommend the use of the ‘I’m Feeling Lucky’ button on some of these questions.

Question: Is Lady Gaga a man/Is Lady Gaga a hermaphrodite?

I don’t usually like answering questions with questions, but I’m going to.  How fucking empty is your sad little life that you have time to worry about the arsenal contained in Lady Gaga’s briefs…or knickers?  For argument sake though, I looked at some of the “evidence” to prove that Gaga has a schlong.  Best I found was some perv shot of her squatting with her legs spread during a performance.  Congratulations asshole, all we can confirm from your photo is that Gaga knows more about the importance of wearing underwear in public than Britney…white underwear as it would be.  It doesn’t prove a god damn thing about whether or not she has a bigger dick than you.  Like it fucking matters anyway, you’re never going to get to fuck her so why worry about it?

Question: Is Shingles contagious?

HA HA HA, sure is, bitch.  Enjoy Shingles.  If you’re a dude you’d better get your swimmers checked after because it can leave you infertile.  Sucker.

Question: When is Halloween?

Dude, you have bigger problems than finding out when you get to knock on strangers’ doors and ask for food.  Do you forget when Christmas is?  How about your birthday?  You and everyone else who has typed this in to Google truly deserve our pity.  There is only one kind of person who is more pathetic than you and I’ll address them in the next question.

Question: When is Halloween in Australia?

May gods have pity on your souls.  You make me ashamed to be Australian.  I have no words for just how fucking stupid I think you are.  Do you often find yourself laughing at jokes because everyone else is laughing even though you have no idea why the joke is funny?   You’re a fucking embarrassment.

Question: Does he love me?

No.  He did until he found out you use Google for romance advice.  How the fuck do you expect Google to even know who you’re talking about?  Are you the same person who searched for “How to kiss” and “Does Bella turn in to a vampire”?  I bet you are.  He’ll never love you.  I doubt your parents love you.

Question: Is the world going to end in 2012?

For the love of god, I hope so.

There’s so many more.  I am constantly amazed by the stupidity of people.  At one end of the spectrum we have a bunch of guys in glasses hanging out 100 metres underground playing with a machine that is going to recreate the big bang.  At the other end of the spectrum, we have jerks googling questions like “Is Santa real?” and “Why can’t I own a Canadian?”  You just can’t!  Stop asking!

I can’t help but think that the real reason why we can’t find aliens is because they’ve already found us and they’re now devoting their efforts to preventing us from ever finding them.

BRAD!

Ps – People should stop googling quick weight loss techniques, put down the shovel they feed themselves with and go for a fucking walk.

“I’m not a racist but…” and I’m going to stop you right there.

I’m sure, dear reader, that you have heard this phrase come out of the mouths of assholes on an almost weekly basis for the majority of your life. “I’m not racist, but…” It comes in a few different formats, but always with the same intention. If you’re like me (and you’re almost certainly not) you might have made an observation about this comment. Or perhaps you’ve made an observation about the people that use this phrase. If not, then do read on. If you didn’t already hate your friends (like I do) then I encourage you to come on this journey with me.
“I’m not racist, but…” and that is about where I usually terminate what ever semblance of a conversation I am having with that particular person. I pull up a mental check list in my mind, entitled ‘People Who Exist in Brad’s World’ and put a single line through that person’s name. Why? Because I can all but guarantee you that the next sentence out of that person’s head is going to be the most racist thing I have ever heard in my entire life.
Now, don’t get me wrong, I love being an arsehole as much as the next person but I hate bigots. I mean, just how fucking thick do you have to be to think that qualifying what ever you are about to say with the phrase “I’m not racist, but…” makes it socially acceptable for you, as a human being, to denigrate not just one person, but an entire race of people purely on the basis of their locale, skin colour, cultural customs, religious beliefs or native languages? How on Earth do you expect the qualifier “I’m not racist, but…” to absolve you of the inherent racism contained in your next seven words?
In case, at this point you are wondering: yes, it is lonely all the way up here on my high horse, but like I give a fuck. People who talk like this are worth nothing to me. It annoys me just as much as people who say “I’m sorry, but…” It’s the exact same thing! My other favourite is, “No offence, but…” You can bet the shirt on the back that the next thing this ‘friend’ says to you is going to so offensive you’re either going to collapse in to the foetal position and cry for your childhood teddy or round-house kick the person back to a time where they would drown bitches to test if they were witches or not.
There is a very clear level of arrogance associated with degenerate retards who speak like this. Just how far up your arse does your head have to be in order to believe that people won’t be offended by your words purely because you started your sentence with a phrase indicating you weren’t being offensive…even though there is no other way your words could have been intended. “No offence, but…who ever put on your make up obviously went to a Clown College, not a Beauty School” Oh yeah? I can see how you meant that inoffensively. I can see that you are so self involved that you think people won’t be offended by your words purely because it is you who is saying them. (Oh, and in case you are wondering, yes I actually heard someone say that…actually, I said it…but I didn’t open with the “No offence” bit…I was being offensive. In fact, to say that I had any motive other than an offensive, malicious agenda would be nothing short of a lie. I wanted to see tears. Big, wet, mascara soaked tears. I saw what I came to see. She put the make up on herself…but I already knew that).
All of this is a by-product, of course, of the main offender; the ultimate argument winner. That one statement that destroys any opponents defences and renders them completely incapacitated. I am of course, talking about that wonderful phrase, “Well, that’s just like, my opinion.” I am, of course, being facetious. People who use this phrase can usually be found in the Welfare office on a Wednesday afternoon. Either side of the counter, it doesn’t matter; they’re all losers down there. As a general rule, people who subscribe to this line of thought are usually jerks and not worth knowing…and that, of course is my opinion. The difference is that I can prove it. Would you like me to? Of course you would.
Think of all the people you know who use this phrase as an argument defence so that they can never be proven wrong? Do you often want to punch them in their smug faces? Of course you do. Why? Because they’re jerks…that, or like me, the smallest thing annoys you and you just feel like fly kicking the shit out of everything. Either way: they’re both good choices.
Anyway, leading back in to my opening argument, which was that when someone begins a conversation with the statement “I’m not racist, but…” you can damn sure bet you don’t want to be around for the rest of that conversation. In fact, that is pretty much the social cue for you do one of two things:
1. Superman punch the shit out of this person in the face so hard you leave a bulge in their back or
2. Tell their boyfriend or girlfriend that they have a beastiality fetish…be sure to start the conversation by saying, “I’m sorry, but…”

BRAD!

Things I have learnt from movies, a list

1. The greatest place in the world to live is clearly the Deep South. I can live safe in the knowledge that if I ever commit a crime or violate a social mores so severely that I will spend the rest of my life in jail, I can just blame the closest black man and everything will turn out peachy…for me.
2. If I want to be more attractive to women, I should become either a vampire or a werewolf…but not a wizard.
3. If I were going to build a time machine out of a car, the best car to use is the incredibly rare and incredibly expensive DMC DeLorean. Sure, it costs more, but the stainless steel shell really lends itself to travelling through time and space. Also, anytime I do travel through time, I will, inevitably, lose my licence plates, but holy shit will it look cool!
4. The hottest girls in the world all live in Shermer, Illinois. What’s better than this is that they all have a thing for nerdy, quirky, nice guys. It gets better still because most of the guys that live in Shermer, Illinois are jerks, jocks and juveniles. That just leaves Ferris Beuller, John Cusack and me. Oh, and Anthony Michael Hall…but even needy chicks have their limits.
5. If you’re going to be a super hero and you aren’t an alien or covered in toxic waste, you’d better be rich…and hot. Rich and hot.
6. The coolness of the name of the city you reside in is directly proportional to how psychotic its villains are. For example, ‘Gotham’ is rad as fuck and it’s criminals are crazier than Dr Bunsen Honeydew. I mean, we’ve got The Joker – a makeup wearing psychopath who just wants to kill shit and blow stuff up because he’s bored; Harvey Twoface who is pissed that the good guys saved him instead of his girlfriend (because Joel Schumacher’s Twoface is the worst creation on god’s green Earth, second only to every other Joel Schumacher villain in the Batman franchise) and won’t get his sceptic face tended to by medical professionals; and finally a crazy cat lady who falls out of her window and in all honesty, should have died. ‘Middle Earth,’ on the other hand is about as cool as the guy from the film clip for ‘Pretty Fly For A White Guy’ by The Offspring. Magical elves prance through the forest and play in the trees, while a race of midgets live in tiny town and fall in love with the ugliest bar wench in the district and go off on homo-erotic adventures with their friends. What kind of bad guys do they get? A fucking eye in the sky. Nine hours of midgets going for a walk in the hope of defeating a flaming eye in the sky. Are you fucking kidding me? What kind of a lame arse villain is that? “Oh no, the eye might see me!” Big fucking deal.
7. If you’re a sixteen year old girl and you own a dog named ‘Beethoven,’ guys that you go to school with, who for some unknown reason also holiday at the same lake as you, will try to rape you…even if you were also in ‘The Nanny.’
8. No alien race wants to be friends with humans.
9. Any movie that has the words ‘Wayans Brothers’ attached to it is going to be worse than contracting HIV. They’re not funny. Get over it.
10. In the highly unlikely event that I am home alone and someone is trying to kill me, the absolute last thing I should do is go and investigate the noise outside.
11. If people are trying to break in to my house during the Holiday period, the best line of defence comes in the form of swinging paint cans, plastic army men, heating the door knobs and painting my basement stairs with tar and nails.
12. If you see someone driving in the opposite direction to you at night time with their headlights turned off, FOR THE LOVE OF GOD DO NOT FLASH YOUR LIGHTS AT THEM!!!!!
13. If you and the two main characters from any movie are going on a dangerous mission together and this is your first real appearance in the film, you’re not coming back.
14. Finally, Ferris is the coolest high school kid to ever roam the planet. None will ever come close to his coolness ever again. Did you even question the fact that throughout that film he was wearing a leopard print vest? No you didn’t. He’s so cool that he can pull off a leopard print vest without you even batting an eye lid. Also, he’s going out with Mia Sara. Easily the hottest girl of the 80s. If they were still together now, no one would give a shit what Posh and Becks were up to. All anyone would ever care about is Ferris and Mia. You know in the future how everything is dedicated to Bill and Ted? Well the world would be like that…except it’d be Ferris and Mia…but Bill and Ted will still be pretty popular. Death’s solo album is gonna be boss.

BRAD!

I know it comes as a shock, but I don’t like Christmas either.

Holy shit, I know.  The self-involved, narcissistic, social detractor doesn’t like Christmas.  Well why the fuck would I?  It’s the most retarded time of year.  You do realise that a direct result of Christmas shopping is a rise in interest rates, right?  Every slut and their daughter heads down to the local Westfield to spend up big on the credit card (because let’s face it, love is meaningless unless you can put a dollar value on it) to prove to their children, significant other, mistress and male equivalent of a mistress just how much they love them.  It’s as if to say that your love for someone is meaningless unless it is attached to things.  “I love you so much sweetheart, I bought you this giant teddy bear.”  Congratulations, asshole.  You love your bitch so much you bought her a massive fire hazard.

Why do we even give presents at Christmas?  Does anyone even know?  What the flip does a fat man in a red suit have to do with Jesus?  It’s not like Santa is even something to aspire to when you really think about it.  A fat, old man who lives at the North Pole.  This is the kind of person we want breaking in to our houses in the dead of night to leave gifts for our children?  Does anyone even want strangers to give their children gifts?  I thought that was the kind of thing we taught our kids to steer away from.  I’ve always been taught that the kind of person that gives a child that they don’t know gifts is also the kind of person that isn’t allowed to live within 200 metres of a school (for any international readers who don’t know what a ‘metre’ is, it’s a unit of measurement that actually makes sense).

Kiddie Fiddler alerts aside, he’s still not even a good role model.  Who the fuck lives at the North Pole and then only breaks in to people’s houses at night – when they are asleep?  There is obviously something wrong with this guy.  He does everything humanly possible to escape contact with other people.  He lives in a climate that is literally uninhabitable; he only comes to your house when you won’t see him and he doesn’t hang around to get thanked for his generosity.  Worse still, every time he comes to your house he enters unlawfully.  We’re clearly dealing with someone who has a VERY extreme social anxiety disorder.  Don’t serial killers usually have those?

Finally, he’s one fat fuck.  Every depiction you ever see of Jolly Ol’ Saint Nick has him with a massive beer gut and a very untidy white beard.  He hangs out at shopping centres, but never buys anything and always smells a little funky.  So it’s worse than him just being obese (and you should all know how much I hate fat people!), he looks like a homeless Vietnam Vet as well!  No wonder small children cry when their parents sit them on his lap.  Even at a tender age they know that something is wrong with that picture!  In what other context would a responsible parent EVER let their children sit on a strange man’s lap in a supermarket and then walk off with candy that he gave them?  I’m not saying that Santa is evil and he’s gonna fiddle with your children; I’m just saying it’s a very mixed message.

It’s not just the retarded notion of gift giving and sitting on the laps of questionable ex-servicemen that gives me the shits either.  Although I do believe that Christmas is a highly commercialised industry with no basis on religious values, I do not intend to spend the entire article debating this widely held belief.  Although, having said that, I don’t really think that Christmas has much to do with Jesus or any of that shit either.  I mean, if you change the birth date of your saviour (who you’ll wind up killing anyway) to line up with the pagan festival of the people you just conquered to make the transition from one god to another a smoother period than your belief in that god obviously comes second to your belief in the idea that the more land you own the better you are.  Therefore opening your whole set of beliefs up to ridicule and speculation.  This paragraph may seem out of place, but to be honest, I just realised that I hadn’t taken a swipe at a major religious institution yet and I thought that needed to change.

My main gripe is more to do with family.  On Christmas day the whole family piles in to the old FJ and heads over to see “the relies”.  Right?  Wrong.  Although, as you would all know, I like to live in the 1950s where things were swell and I’m pretty sure an FJ did not exist, that’s not actually the world we live in.  These days you’re lucky if your parents are still married.  Actually, Scratch that.  You’re lucky if your parents have realised that they actually hate each other and have gotten a divorce to save everyone the misery of married life.  Usually this is awesome for the children.  Mum feels bad for having an affair and leaving the family so she over-spends on celebrating occasions such as birthdays and Easter.  Dad feels bad for not being able to provide a traditional, structured family unit for their children and does the same.  Translation: two birthdays, two Easters and a lot of random “I saw this and thought of you” moments.  This, of course, all comes crashing down at Christmas.  Sure, you get two Christmases too, but both of them are shit.  You spend the entire day dashing between your mum’s family, your dad’s family and if they have new spouses to abuse, their families too.  It only serves to get worse when you get older because you will inevitably date someone else from a broken home, because the only thing more fun than being miserable is being miserable with someone else.  So then you have to go to their parents’ houses as well.  Of course, they inevitably will live on opposite sides of the city that you reside in.  And every time you get to a new person’s house, the second thing out of their mouth (besides massive chunks of half chewed prawns which would kill me if they landed on me because I’m genetically weak and am allergic the only thing in the ocean that actually tastes nice) is words to the effect of, “Why are you so late?”  So what does Christmas turn in to?  One fucking long road trip with the final destination being the house you are in when you start the laborious trek through up to 10 way points of total and utter despair.  You spend your entire day driving around to houses that contain people you don’t even like who are pissed at you for being late instead of being thankful you’re there at all and all you’re trying to do is keep everybody happy while you feel your soul slowly dying.  You end up listening to all the news bulletins to try to take your mind off the fact that your air con doesn’t work and you live in the hottest city on the face of the fucking planet and every time they give you the national road toll it’s just a little bit higher than the hour before and all you can think is, “lucky bastards.”  No wonder so many people commit suicide at this time of year.  It’s not because they are lonely.  It’s because they are surrounded by people they fucking hate.

BRAD!

Denzel Washington. Greatest actor or just an angry black man?

In a world where people are famous simply for being famous, where compensation exceeds common sense and where women are allowed to vote, it’s nice to see that there are some great actors who deserve the fame that has been bestowed upon them.  Or does he?

Does anyone Remember the Titans?  A great film set in the 1960s about the justified struggle for equal rights for black and white people (even though white people aren’t really white, they’re beige, but that’s neither here nor there).  It has everything a great movie needs: contained male, adolescent violence; slow motion football highlights; a car crash; Turk from Scrubs; men coming together to overcome racial injustice; and most importantly, an acting reel for Hayden Panettiere that will later pay dividends in excess when she comes of age to be the cheerleader in distress with the power of rejuvenation.  Who can argue that this movie is not a diamond in the rough?  No one.  That’s who.  It’s a great film and if you disagree I’m going to tell everyone that you supported the goings-on at Auschwitz.

How about a little film known as Man on Fire?  A down on his luck security guard takes a low paying job protecting a rich family’s daughter played by Dakota Fanning.  He has a drinking problem and is borderline suicidal.  But through the love of a five year old girl he finds his will to live, only to die for said five year old girl.  Sensational movie…with the exception to the fact that despite the title of the film, at no point in the movie does Denzel Washington catch fire.

Finally, I give you John Q.  A touching story about a down on his luck father who’s insurance company will not pay for his son’s heart transplant.  So what does John Q do?  Well, what any decent person would – he takes the emergency room of the hospital hostage and demands that his kid get a new heart.  Fair enough.

The astute reader might have noticed an extreme lack of judgement from the author this week.  That I have held back and reserved judgement.  Well why not?  Denzel Washington is an amazing actor whose work speaks for itself.  Or does it?

Well, umm, no, to be honest.

“Oh, but his movies are always so good.  He’s a fantastic actor!”

Well, I agree with the first part of your statement.  Each of those movies is definitely worth watching.  Great stories, great characters and they all leave your heart warmed by the end.  Except for one fact.  Let’s review those movies and the characters therein.

Remember the Titans – It’s about an angry black man fighting injustice.

Man on Fire – It’s about an angry black man fighting his demons.

John Q – It’s about an angry black man fighting the system.

Shall we go on?  Indeed, we shall.

The Hurricane – It’s about an angry black man fighting other angry men (some of which are black).

Training Day – It’s about an angry black man fighting the police force.

American Gangster – It’s about an angry black man fighting poverty.

Malcolm X – It’s about an angry black man fighting whitey.

Courage Under Fire – It’s about an angry black man fighting Meg Ryan.

I put it to you that Denzel Washington is no more of an actor than Ben Stiller is tolerable.  You can hardly be called an ‘actor’ when the only character you can play is an angry black man!  Actors, traditionally play a myriad of roles.  Take John Travolta for example.  He’s been a singing greaser, a singing fat lady, the good guy, the bad guy, had his face removed, stolen nuclear weapons, done comedies, thrillers, action and tricked everyone in to thinking that Danny DeVito movies are worth watching.

So, why the fuck has Denzel Washington won the Oscar for Best Actor in a Lead Role AND an Oscar for Best Actor in a Supporting Role?  It’s a fucking joke.  You know who should be winning Oscars?  ACTORS!  Not dull, talentless schmucks who have type cast themselves in to one single role that then gets repeated over and over.  When you go to see a Denzel movie, all you’re expecting is to see an angry black man go up against some sort of injustice.  Whether it be insurance companies, bad guys on trains, bank robberies, kidnappers or police recruits makes no real difference.  You know that at some point Denzel is going to have one of those powerful scenes where the camera rotates around him as he makes some poignant speech, which will no doubt contain the words, “I’m goin’ to git mine!” and will invariably move seamlessly from irate screaming, with spit flying through the air like the fountain outside the Bellagio to a chilling whisper, which reminds me of the time my friend told me he shat his pants five minutes in to a plane flight.

It wouldn’t annoy me so much if this was common knowledge, but for some reason it’s not.  Everyone I talk to is convinced that Denzel is some sort of amazing actor.  As if he has some sort of super-human acting ability.  The only ability he has is to be infuriated.  That’s not acting, Mr Washington, that’s just yelling.  How about you shut the fuck up and fucking try your hand at a different role for once.  You’re a one trick pony and I for one am sick of it.

You’re not an actor, Denzel Washington.  You’re an asshole.

BRAD!

No One Cares About Your Little Facebook Group

Let it not be said that I don’t take on the big issues.  So far this blog has covered some pretty hard hitting, in your face topics.  Getting hit in the nuts?  Done.  The vernacular of teenagers?  Done.  Things that annoy one insignificant person in this world?  Ha!  You better believe that’s been done!  Fat people?  Served.  And now, without further adu…adui…aidu…adieu, I give you wankers on Facebook.

Every time I log in to Facebook some jerk has invited me to join some group I don’t give a shit about. ‘It’s not really a long story I just can’t be bothered to tell it,’ ‘saying “dinners ready” you go downstairs and it’s still in the oven,’ ‘I hate one word txts [sic].’  Who the fuck starts these stupid things?  You’re not funny; you’re just wasting space on the internet.  Space that could be better filled with pornography!  Against my better judgement I became a “fan” of a group called ‘Laughing When Sluts Fall Over’ because, well, lets face it: it’s hilarious when sluts fall over.  For the next week, I cop these random arse status updates asking me to vote on tattoos and shit.  If I wanted to vote on tattoos I would have joined a group called ‘I’m an idiot and want to vote on your stupid tattoos because I’ve heard that getting a neck tattoo only makes you more employable’ not a group that is allegedly about sluts tumbling down stairs.

Why the fuck does Facebook tell me when my retarded friends join retarded groups?  As if anyone gives a shit. “Blank became a fan of ‘Eating When You’re Bored.’”  Okay, I guess that answers the question about why that person is fat, but like a give a shit about her joining the group?  What am I meant to do?  “OMFG,” (I say “OMFG” because only idiots join groups on Facebook and idiots also say stupid shit in real life like O-M-F-G because they’re idiots), “Blank joined that group?  Well, like a good sheep I’d better join too!”  WRONG!  It’s not a social networking site.  All this website serves to do is highlight why I hate everyone I’ve ever met.

I just saw that one of my “friends” became a fan of a group called ‘My mum said if 2million [sic] people joined this group she would quit smoking.”  I feel like starting my own group called, ‘I hope your mum dies of cancer in front of a crowd of 2 million people.’  I won’t though.  You know why?  Because no one fucking cares about groups on Facebook.  Joining groups on Facebook just advertises the fact that you’re a fuckhead.

I guess I should give credit where credits due.  I mean, when “friends” on Facebook join retarded groups they’re doing my job for me.  It’s like, “Oh, you’re enough of a fan of ‘Laughing just because you feel like it :D’ to join a group on Facebook stating as much?  Ah, awesome.  Don’t need to be seen in public with you again.”  “Oh really?  You’re a fan of ‘Boys are stupid’ that’s cool.  I’m not a fan of being friends with 12 year olds and since you have joined this Facebook group, I can only assume that you are 12.”

I thought about starting a group called, ‘People who become fans of every stupid thing on Facebook should be crucified’ but then I realised that everyone would join and I’d get nothing done because I’d be too busy nailing bastards to planks of wood all day.

If Facebook shouldn’t be used to announce to your friends how retarded you are by joining ridiculous groups such as, ‘I cannot be f*cked [sic] screwing the lid on the milk, so i [sic] just hit it’ then what should you be using it for?  Glad I asked.  Well, to be honest, should we really be using it at all?  I mean, since Facebook came along do you actually see your friends in person as much anymore?  I can think of a few people on my “friends” list that I see rarely because it’s more convenient to just message them over Facebook and to leave my various witty comments on their photos.  For a “social networking site” it sure seems to be really powerful at pushing people further apart and isolating them.  Maybe I’m just lazy?  One thing is for sure though; it allows you to share really important information with your friends very quickly.  Information like my friend (notice the absence of inverted commas this time) Matt has done with this gem: “Kings of Leon can eat shit.”  And no, I’m not taking the piss.  This is important information that everyone needs to know.

I can see your lame arse replies already, by the way.  “Hey BRAD! No one cares about your lame arse blog either.”  You read it, dumbass.  I didn’t force you.  “Hey BRAD! Your blog is wasting space on the internet too.”  Shut up dipshit, if nothing else, I occupied you for the last five minutes and stopped you annoying the shit out of someone else, because lets face it – you’re an annoying little shitface, aren’t you?

Oh yeah, one more thing…if you’re reading this and thinking, “I wonder if he’s talking about me” there’s a fair chance I am.  It’s also fairly likely that your friends don’t like you either, in fact, they started a Facebook group about it – ironically of course, but they all still joined.

 BRAD!

Fat People Don’t Deserve Larger Seats on Aeroplanes, They Deserve Treadmills for Christmas.

What kind of gluttonous society do we live in when we have an “obesity epidemic”?  My state government has launched an advertising campaign called ‘Find your 30.’  The idea being that citizens of Queensland need to find 30 minutes of exercise every day to get fitter.  It’s a sad state of affairs when your state government has to get involved to get your off you fat, greasy, globular arse just to go for a fucking walk for half an hour.
Now look, I’m all about concessions, I’m all about favours; I’m all about the quip-pro-quo.  Is that how you say that shit?  Did I get that right?  Anyway, I’m all about these things when they favour me.  I’ll be the first to admit that I have very high double standards, but don’t you dare think for a second that gives you the right to feel the same way!  But in this day and age, cutting fat people breaks is a slap in the overly round face!
Every now and again, some over excited, yet under exercised fat bitch gets up on her high horse (and kills it) and starts moaning about how it is unfair that they have to pay for two seats just to fly somewhere on an aeroplane.  And if you’re wondering how the fat Heffa got up on high horse in the first place, you can bet your greasy bacon breakfast she used the escalator.  Why the fuck shouldn’t you pay for two seats, you disgusting, wide-load sign wearing, grease burger ingesting, poor excuse for a human?  If your arse has such a large surface area that each hail-damaged cheek needs its own seat, then bitch, you have to pay for each fucking seat!  It’s not rocket science. It’s not even advance maths!  If the total surface area required is equal to twice the surface area provided, than logically, the amount of money required is twice what was originally offered.  How fucking simple is that?
I cannot, for the life of me, understand why fat people are allowed to park in the handicapped spaces at the shopping centre.  If you ask me (and no one did), there should be a “fat bitch” section.  If you have to display the “fat bitch” sticker on your car (and it should be mandatory) then you have to park in this section.  I imagine the “fat bitch” sticker would look similar to the wheel chair guy or the male toilet guy…except the whole thing would be big circles instead of slender rectangles.  Now, where do you reckon I’d put this section?  Fucking-A.  Right in the back of the parking lot.  As far away from the shop entrance as possible.  That’s right tubs.  Me and my supermarket are doing you a favour.  Every step is another calorie gone.  Fuck it man, I’d make ‘em park in the parking lot of neighbouring supermarkets and then walk to mine.  If I had my way, fatties would lose so much weight on the way from the car to the shops the first shop they’d HAVE to go in to would be ‘Gary’s Big and Tall’ to buy new pants because they don’t fit in to their old ones anymore.
Don’t go thinking for a second you’d be allowed on the beach either.  People are so fucking fat these days, they stroll down in to the water and everyone else is like, “Holy shit, did the tide just come in like 6 feet?”  Why the hell do we tolerate shit like this?  We’re in the midst of a diabetes epidemic for fuck sake.  You’re gonna be telling your grandkids 50 years from now, “Yeah, things were so good we had to worry about being TOO satisfied.  There was deep fried chicken everywhere.”  As far as I am concerned, fatties should be, and in fact ARE social outcasts.
You want to pay the same rate as everyone else to fly from Brisbane to Perth?  Fuck knows why you’d want to go to Perth in the first place – there’s a reason we put it all the way over there on the other side of the country, but hey, I’m not here to judge…you’re holiday destination that is.  If you’re huge, I’ll fucking judge you.  I’ll judge you harder than Donald Trump judges beauty pageants, the seedy old fuck.  If you want to pay the same price as me to fly on a plane – try weighing the same amount as me, you gross bush pig!  The reason I pay for one seat is because I only fucking need one!  And I don’t want to spend the entire flight gripping the shit out of it, petrified that you’re so fucking heavy the engines won’t be able to take it and we’ll crash back to Earth like a juicy meatball falling off your oversized fork and smashing down in to your already food-stained shirt with an eruption of red wine Bolognese sauce.
If the Government was really serious about stopping people from resembling the Hindenburg they’d put scales in public places, pay a crowd to sit in a grandstand and make everyone that goes by stand on the scales in front of the crowd.  If you’re not crying as you step off the scales then you can be considered a worthwhile member of society.  If the endless taunts of the slim, attractive crowd have left your face streaked with makeup in a Joker-esque kind of way, feel free to make use of the suicide gallows set up to your left.  We have high quality rope that won’t snap under the immense pressure of your incredible mass.
Am I kidding?  No.  There is no excuse for being fat.  If you’re fat and you’re reading this…I hate you.
BRAD!

A Short List of things I Hate.

1. ‘Dance, Dance Revolution.’
I fail to see the point to this stupid ‘game.’  It’s not dancing.  It’s not even close to dancing.  It’s just a bunch of Asian kids stomping their feet.  The only form of dancing it even vaguely resembles is line dancing.  Line dancing isn’t dancing either.  Line Dancing is a step by step guide to hooking up with your cousin.  By the way, if you don’t pick up on my puns, you’re an idiot and are probably on my ‘Long List of things I Hate.’  In Brad’s World, I’d throw every last DDR machine in to an active volcano.  And of course by “I” I mean I’d make one of my minions do it because I also hate hard labour.

 2. Glitter.
The sparkly specks of shit; not the movie.  Although, to be honest, I do hate the movie and Mariah Carrey as well.  What is with kids’ fascination with this shit?  It doesn’t do anything.  It doesn’t look cool.  It doesn’t add to the black hole of artistic talent your parents pretend you have.  “What’s that junior?  You drew me a picture of a dinosaur?  Why does it have a ball of glitter for a head?  Because it’s a pretty dinosaur?  WRONG!”  If this is what dinosaurs looked like, no wonder God threw a giant meteor at Earth to wipe the surface clean.  If I drew something as awful as that, you’d better believe I’d shake the shit out of my etch-a-sketch.  It’s not even a fun medium to play with.  It sticks to you worse the human papillomavirus.  There’s nothing worse than looking back through photos of a great night out and realising that in every single photo there is a gold speck of shit sitting right on the tip of your nose.  No wonder so many people have abortions.

 3. Carl Barron.
That’s right, assholes, I said it.  I’m willing to admit that Carl was funny.  Once.  The first time I ever saw him perform stand up.  But his shtick is tired.  Okay Carl, we fucking get it!  You’re weird looking and you make funny noises.  Get the fuck over it, the rest of us did.  “Comic Genius”?  More like “Carbon Copy.”  I put it to you that the only reason people think Carl Barron is funny is because of his homosexual relationship with ‘The Footy Show.’  People who find that show funny should be put to death.  And not in a pleasant “I’ll put your out of your pain,” terminal cancer with morphine kind of way.  I mean in a hung, drawn and quartered, “let that be a lesson to the rest of you” kind of way.  People who find Carl Barron funny should be sterilized.

 4. Parents.  Shit parents mostly, but all parents really.
If your child is a pain in the arse, always in trouble, has an attitude problem and you, “Just don’t know what to do.”  You should consider giving not being such a shit parent a crack.  You can blame your kids’ friends, the TV, popular culture and celebrities as much as you want, but at the end of the day, I’m pretty sure it’s not those things’ jobs to teach your kid ethics, morals and values.  If your kids a shithead, I’m willing to bet you’re a shithead.  Here’s another tip: the TV is not a babysitter.  How’s about you climb on down from your high horse, eat a massive piece of humble pie and start teaching your kid good values – starting with humility.  Obviously, my parents are exempt from this rant.  They did an awesome job because just look at how much better at life I am than you.

 5. Smoking.
We’ve known just how shit it is for us for like 20 years now.  It hasn’t been cool since greasers and the 1950s.  Why the fuck do people still smoke?

 6. When people say, “How hot is it?”
Fucking hot.  Now shut the fuck up.  I don’t think people realise just how much that simple question says about them and their insecurities.  I mean, I think I can safely assume that they aren’t expecting an answer in degrees Celsius.  It’s more of a vague comment to the affect of, “Boy, it is hot today.”  For some reason though, people lack the security in them to assess the weather and decide for themselves that it is hot.  Instead, they phrase it as a question, just in case no one else is feeling the heat.  As if there is something wrong with them being hot when others are not.  Who the fuck cares if other people don’t think it’s hot?  Grow a set, toughen up and get a little conviction in your life.  If you think it’s hot, claim it.  Actually, shut up either way.  I don’t care what you have to say.

 7. Reality TV.
It’s not reality, dumbass.  It’s a bunch of fuckheads being fuckheads.  The only difference between the fuckheads in the street and the fuckheads on TV is that I can’t punch someone on the other side of a camera in Samoa trying to survive Tribal Council (I’m sure that’s a registered trade mark too, by the way).  How the hell are shows like Survivor still going?  It’s not entertainment.  It’s not even passive amusement.  It’s the same shit every season except the old guy has a different name, the dumb chick with the huge rack is a little bit dumber, the only person worth winning gets voted off straight away and the person who ends up winning is a total jerk.  How have they turned this in to one of the longest running seasons in modern TV history?  I’m at a fucking loss for how this show is still on the air.  You know what?  It’s not even the fucking show I have a problem with.  It’s every one of you.  I say you because someone must be fucking watching it and it sure as shit isn’t me!  My TV doesn’t even get reception!

 8. People who drive with their high beams on because they have a head light out.
What the fuck is wrong you, mother fucker?  How does your inability to maintain you vehicle give you the right to blind the fuck out of me?  You’re the same kind of jerk that doesn’t give people the slightest chance to turn their high beams off and starts flashing your lights when you’re like 6 kilometres away.  Do you know how many of your friends actually like you?  None.  They only tolerate you because they know it is easier than admitting they don’t like you and have you make a massive deal of it and start crying in public.  No ones likes a person who cries in public.  Here’s an idea – instead of being a fucking menace to everyone else on the road by endangering the lives of people who have full cerebral functions, how about you drive down to an auto shop, buy a fucking light bulb and put the son of a bitch in.  It’ll take you like half an hour and your wife/girlfriend/life partner/significant other will contemplate touching you in bed that night even though your sex life has been on life support since they realised how much of a pansy you are because you can’t even master the craft-less art of maintaining an automobile.

 9. People who think they are better than everyone else because they watch ‘Entourage.’
You know who else watches ‘Entourage’?  FUCKING EVERYONE.  How the shit does watching specific TV shows make you better than anyone else anyway?  TV shows are specifically designed for mass consumption.  It’s not like you needle pointed your own unique, one of a kind sweater or anything.  Get the fuck over yourself.  You probably tell people that you watched it before it was cool as well.  You know what else is cool that people haven’t gotten in to yet?  Suicide.  Think about it.  Watching a TV show about rich wankers does not make you a rich wanker.  It makes you a douche bag and a sorry excuse for a carbon based life form but it doesn’t make you any cooler than every other dumbass running around these streets.  If anything, it makes you more of a dumbass.  Who the fuck wants to watch a TV show that is about how much of a jerk a group of people are?  I can hear all of you jerks now as well, by the way…“But it’s like ‘Gossip Girl’ for boys.”  Then watch ‘Gossip Girl’ you gender-stereotyping sons of bitches…but don’t watch ‘Gossip Girl’ it’s a steaming pile of Rancor shit as well.  In fact, I think I just hate TV in general.

 10. Edward.
Dear Stephanie,
            You’ve ruined vampires forever.
Brad.
I cannot believe what the ‘Twilight’ books have done to vampires.  Vampires use to be badass motherfuckers that nobody wanted to mess with.  Now every high school slut wants to grow up and marry one.  Vampires aren’t princes, you dumb whores.  You know what a typical night for a vampire consists of?  Doing bitches in and partying hard.  You know what vampires don’t do?  Fall in fucking love!  Being a vampire is all about doing what ever the hell you want and telling the consequences to get fucked.  Oh, and flying, it’s totally about flying!  What kind of a lame ass four hundred year old vampire falls in love with a brain dead sixteen year old?  I’ll tell you who; Van Helsing’s next victim.  That’s right – victim.  Van Helsing’s the bad guy in that story.  No one has the right to tell a vampire what to do.  You know who got vampires right? Joel Schumacher with ‘The Lost Boys.’  That’s what being a vampire is all about.  Kiefer Sutherland flying around doing sluts in and partying like it’s schoolies.  Vampires don’t fall in love, they suck neck and ruin everybody else’s shit.