Hot Topic

Holy fucking shit I just tried out this new ring tone …..Just kidding.

In the last month the spam has gotten out of control here on my space. My account got hacked, and I had to change my password. Somebody gave me the heads up the other day that if you get kicked off My Space unexpectedly and the next page that pops up is that, "YOU NEED TO BE LOGGED IN TO DO THAT!!!" Don't fill it out. It's a fake page and they'll steal your password and then the world will end. Just get off the Internet and re log in. And as a further precaution, after you log in, change your password. As far as I know, that's what is going on. If anyone else has any more info, just add it below.

Oh and to the 8% of the population: COULD YOU PLEASE STOP RESPONDING TO SPAM, SO I DON'T HAVE TO SPEND HALF MY DAY DELETING MESSAGES FROM VICTORIA'S SECRET? THANK YOU.

MARCH'S BLOG OFFICIALLY BEGINS HERE: (You don't pay your cable on time either)

I woke up the other day and the first thing I saw, was a bunch of shit in my closet. Just a mass of unorganized crap staring me in the face, like Third World Children outside of a Costa Rican airport. So rather than face that problem, I rolled over, looked across the room, and saw clothes bulging out of my IKEA chest of drawers. I immediately thought of that chapter in "Alls Quiet on the Western Front" when one of the soldiers walks by holding his guts in, so they wouldn't spill out onto the ground.

At that point I rolled over onto my back, stared at the ceiling, let the thought of killing myself pass, and I got out of bed.

About 20 minutes later I got up, walked into my living room and surveyed the landscape. There were two socks and a dress shoe by the TV. On the coffee table there were some magazines and a cereal bowl with dried Apple Granola sandblasted on the rim. The Kitchen was worse. There were a bunch of dishes in the sink and a week's worth of newspapers lying on the dining room floor. My apartment looked like it was the establishing shot to some awful movie about a confirmed bachelor, who was about to meet some perky cunt that would make him want to be a better man.

At that point, I realized that my apartment, once again, was a fucking mess. How did I allow this phenomenon to happen again?

The truth is, I don't know how it happens. Once a month I clean my apartment. And I don't just mean moving shit around into organized piles of chaos. I'm talking about throwing shit out, sweeping underneath couches, while stating affirmations about the new way I'm going to live my life.

"That's it. From here on out, we're going to put everything away and in it's place. And I'll never have to clean up a mountain of shit again."

That mantra, lasts for a couple of days. Then the daily bullshit that is day-to-day life steals my focus, and three weeks later it's a fuckin' mess and the process starts all over again.

But this time was different. Instead of launching into my usual tirade of, "God Damn it Bill. You're such fuckin' loser. When are you going to get your shit together…." This time I stood in the middle of it all going, "Why does this keep happening?" And then this voice in the back of my head, responded with the greatest solution my central nervous system has ever produced: "Why don't you just throw it all out."

And I was like, "Beg your pardon?"
"I said, 'Why don't you just throw it all out?'"
"Throw what out?"
"Everything."
"Everything?"
"Yeah. Everything. Dump it. You don't need it."

I wanted to argue back, but I couldn't think of a counterpoint. And ever since that moment, I can't get the thought of getting rid of all my shit, out of my head. "WHY do I keep all this shit?"

I have a box of baseball programs from games I've gone to over the past 15 years. FOR WHAT? I never look at them. I just keep adding programs to the box each year, with the same stupid thought of, "This is going to be worth something some day." NO IT ISN'T!!!! I have to throw it out. Do I really need to save the pencil that I kept score with at the Astro Dome? Is that what I'm going to show my grandchildren some day?

Instead of talking to them about overcoming obstacles, or stories of fighting in combat and watching a buddy die, I'm going to talk about, "And then in the late 1990's, I went to County Stadium on a cold April afternoon, and watched the Milwaukee Brewers play the Oakland A's. WELL THAT'S BECAUSE BACK THEN THEY PLAYED IN THE AMERICAN LEAGUE! SO THEY WERE PLAYING THE OAKLAND A'S. NOW SHUT UP AND LET GRANDPA FINISH! Anyway, this is the free Milwaukee Brewer T shirt that Citibank Visa gave me for signing up for a credit card that had a 32% annual interest rate. It ended up being the reason your mother couldn't afford to go to college and that you now live in squalor. But getting back on topic, the mustard stain is from a bratwurst that I…"


So my apartment was a mess, but I felt good. I was finally asking questions. "How the fuck did I end up owning 80 fucking t-shirts?" I wish my brain would have kicked in, as I was buying the 72nd t-shirt and said: "Hey, not trying to nit pick here but, don't you already have some of these? No wait, you can't even close the drawers of your dresser. It would be ridiculous to buy another T-shirt. AND you're in Time Square so it's going to cost at least 25 dollars. HEY FUCK HEAD! PUT IT DOWN! I said, PUT IT DOWN!!!! WHAT ARE YOU DOING?! YOU'RE ANOTHER MINDLESS DRONE, WALKING FROM STORE TO STORE BUYING SHIT THAT YOU DON'T NEED. YOU'RE NOT FILLING THE VOID! YOU'RE IN THE MATRIX. WHY DON'T YOU LEARN HOW TO SUSTAIN A LOVING RELATIONSHIP WITH ANOTHER HUMAN BEING? YOU EVER THINK OF WORKING ON THAT PART OF YOUR LIFE? WELL HAVE YOU??!!!! MAYBE IF YOU DID, YOU WOULDN'T FEEL THE NEED TO BUY ANOTHER FUCKING AC/DC T SHIRT!…………I KNOW YOU CAN HEAR ME!!!!!!"

Unfortunately, that didn't happen. Or maybe it did, and I just blocked it all out. Either way, I went ahead and bought another faded AC/DC shirt. (Just as a side note: I hate how the AC DC T-Shirt has become sort of a joke T-Shirt. Kind of like the "Get Lucky in Kentucky" T-shirt. I want to tell people that I don't wear an AC/DC or, for that matter, an Iron Maiden T shirt in a tongue and cheek kind of way. I wear it cause I like those bands. I'd love to walk up to someone that's in his 20's, with a crazy look on my face, point at my shirt and say, "HEY KID! THIS ISN'T A FUCKIN' JOKE TO ME!"

God, I wonder if my parents felt that way in the 70's when liking Elvis became hilarious. I guess when I honestly take a look at my favorite childhood groups: AC/DC features a Danny DeVito sized lead guitarist, in a schoolboy outfit, who moons the crowd. And Iron Maiden sings 15-minute songs about albatrosses, while a 60- foot burn victim dances across the stage. All right, maybe it is a little silly. But have some respect.)

So anyway, I think I'm going to do it. I'm going to toss out all my shit. I'm scared to do it, cause I know every other thing I look at is going to have some sort of sentimental value. But, there are a lot of advantages to not owning anything. For example:

I hate doing dishes. So if I only own one dish, one glass, and a bowl, I've solved the problem. The worst-case scenario is a 30 second job. Getting back to the Third World, those people never have a messy home, for the simple fact that they don't have enough money to afford clutter. Granted their children are filthy, but I have indoor plumbing. So I think I have all my bases covered.

Another advantage: Emotionless House Fires. Whenever somebody's house burns down you always see him/her on the news crying hysterically in the street. "Fifty years of memories were lost in that blaze today. I don't know what I'm going to do."
Meanwhile the guys in the news van are watching the feed going, "Dude, would you fuck her?"

If you don't own shit, you can have it replaced before the reporter puts the mic in your face.

"Can you comment on the tragedy here today?"
"What tragedy? I lost a futon and a pair of slacks. Go fuck yourself."

Cut back to the news van:
Fat white guys high-five as if one of them made a witty remark to a Hooter's waitress.

So that's it. I'm tapping out. I'm tossing my shit and I'm not buying any more new stuff. No more consumption. That's how my apartment got this way in the first place. Every time I leave my apartment I buy something new, and bring it back. And over time, it adds up. It's just like gaining weight. Couple pounds a month and the next thing you know, you're laying on four box springs, talking to Maury Povich via satellite.

Well not me. From here on out, I'm going to have the kind of apartment that if someone breaks in, they are going to be like, FUCK!

And it's a good thing. Not buying any new shit is eco-friendly. In fact if everyone did what I'm about to do the rain forest would be saved. If we didn't buy shit that we didn't need the grass would be greener. Of course this country's economy would collapse. And then I'd feel like douche, for spawning the movement and then I'd have to endure a backlash. They'd put me on the cover of Newsweek with the caption: "The Man Who Killed the Bean Bag"

So you guys keep doing what your doing. I'm not trying to be an Evil Doer. Keep heading out to the malls and filling your homes up with shit. As long as it isn't fertilizer, then you're in the clear. And that's what America is all about. It's actually what the world is all about, but their just jealous of us and all our shit. Can you imagine not being able to get a doughnut anywhere you wanted? These fuckin' people from other places, they make me sick. In fact if I don't continue to buy shit then I might as well get the fuck out this country.

That settles it. I'm going to go buy the new I Pod so I can stick my old I Pod in a drawer next to my original I Pod, next to my old palm pilot and three chargers to other shit that I don't use anymore. I want my obituary to read: "Man dies during discarded cell phone avalanche, in own apartment."