Why I Totally am Hot Shit

      I know what you're thinking, who is this fool, this brazen braggart, who claims to be so vastly superior to us all in his cultural practices; physical adornments; and scrumptious food. Well this fool is David MacLean and I've created a culture so absolutely unique to my own self that I am cast aside by the social mainstream and forced to live a life of solitude and impoverishment.
      The first major cultural practice that sets me so widely apart from the social norm, and in turn has lead to mass banishments from cities and towns around the globe, is my hatred of all things made of glass. This hatred runs deep in my culture; at the tender age of 5 a window pane killed my father and raped my mother. The ensuing riots that followed this age of turmoil cumulated in the outlawing of glass and or fiberglass substances from use within the Davidist culture. The subsequent riots of Davidists throughout Funhouses and department store change rooms have virtually isolated us from these communities at large. The Lack of glass has also been extremely hard to deal with as the Davidist people (IE "I") am/are very beautiful and are therefore limited to seeing myself only once or twice a year through film and or the reflections off tepid pools of water. 
       The second major cultural practice which has lead to the discrimination of my people came about out of a somewhat petty, albeit necessary, hatred of math (just ask my former grade 7 math teacher Mr. Bernard known better as the Davidist high priest of mathematics). At age 12 we as a people grew despondent in the mathematical practices of our social peers and as a result did away with, what some call, necessary functions of mathematical systems. We are most notably excluded, due to this development, from the purchase of goods as they cannot be represented in our culture under numerical value; but rather to a comparative value against Oxen and or Will Smith albums. For example in our culture one Willenium record is equal to two Big Willy Style. albums which are both equal to half an oxen. Our people have had trouble surviving as supermarkets, often through frivolous and ignorant denial of our practices, have refused to accept Will Smith albums or Oxen in the purchase of lesser goods. As a result Davidists have turned to theft and have been imprisoned unrightfully based solely on our individuality of economic principles/illegal ownership of oxen within commercially designated zones (In other words, RACISM).
       Finally The Davidists as a people have long been relegated to the margins of society based on their belief that all clothes must be made only of Saran Wrap in order to appease the Davidists gods which, oddly enough, took their form in deified images of sandwich bags. The exposure of, what Bernard Weber of the school of Modern anthropology has described as, "towering and almost boisterous" appendage(s) has lead to the outright banning of Davidists from the entire state of Utah. Though we/I as a people are different in our ways we hope that you, the reader, will use this knowledge of our social exclusion to preach equality and temperance when dealing with a culture as diverse and in a sense unsubstantiated as our own.

Oh, professor if you want a bibliography I can send you some photos or something, thanks

Dave

              Hangovers follow me through life like some sort of hell-bent stalker planning my inevitable and painfully slow destruction. They are a constant weekend occurrence, and genuinely can be functionally explained as the bane of my existence, however are hangovers really that bad a thing?

            Now I know the average young scholarly minded University prepster is scratching his head perplexed, "what the devil is a hangover?" Well Johnny B. Study, I'll tell you what a hangover is, it is quite simply [insert your favorite religious deity or deities] way of saying he loves you. I've come to this conclusion not through years of theological study or thorough laborious research in the world of metaphysics but rather through an intrinsic deduction process I like to call self reflective research, (or in layman's "thinking while on drugs"). You see when you wake up after a night that could best be described simply in the word "Whiskey," and you feel like Thor, god of thunder, is wailing on you're face with his hammer of dwarf forged Steele you get a friendly reminder that Alcohol, though fun, is not a lifestyle.* Quickly, one is forced into a period of self reflection as the blurred images of the night before come streaming in like light through shattered glass.

Beer bong - vodka - breasts - cheetah- Rum

However, this self reflection is, of course, immediately abated by the realization that in the period of ten unconscious, possibly naked, hours your mouth and throat have turned into a Mad Max like wasteland. You'll grab a glass of water and then spend the rest of the day lying on your couch as Bob Barker stares out from your TV set; mocking you as he speaks into his disturbingly outdated and phallic microphone. You'll gaze contemptuously at the contestants of the Price is Right hating them and their wild enthusiasm, thinking madly that just an evening before you were as happy as that outlandish young marine who, like some kind of stupid-fucking clown, guessed $100 for the furniture set (I mean c'mon $100, that shit came with an ottoman, douche bag).

            Now, I know you're thinking how does the blind hatred of Price is Right contestants translate into the J-man throwing down some of that fine beardy love? Quite simply, without hangovers would we ever stop drinking? Drinking, though fun and conducive of a good time, generally only gets in the way of doing actual "important" things. To put it in a comparative vein, Hangovers are to drinking what chaffing is to fifteen hours of non-stop sex before an Anthro final (that's right ladies, fifteen hours...I'm winking right now). That is to say it's a reminder that the amusement of the night before came with a consequence; in the case of a hangover this consequence is the inability to think without feeling tremendous pain, in the case of chaffing it is the inability to masturbate without bleeding. In summation, a hangover is the natural way in which we are forced to realize the harsh reality of our own lives, forcing us into a fit of tears followed by a manic period of intense and unabated work. Without hangovers we'd all be alcoholics (and not the fun Churchilly kind).        

* This statement can be disregarded by all hobos who are reading the article

1 I realize that hobos can't read LAWLZ

            There are a lot of people out there who are technologically obsessed. They buy tech magazines and frantically flip through them. Their eyes sparkle and gleam with joy as they glimpse each new LCD mounted device and labor saving mechanism.

            "Oh my!!!" they scream as they look at the latest electronic banana peeler or clock and camera imbued gramophone.

 However these people are all being mislead by the fanatic consumer culture that perpetuates the selling of any device that is tagged with an "I" placed in front of an improper noun. Iphone, Ipod, Ibook, Icondoms, Ijello, Igiraffe; these are all needless over-marketed pieces of crap, not to mention fragmented sentences. "Iphone," I phone what or who?!! How can the heartless corporate marketing team at Apple start a sentence, carve it into metal objects millions of times, and never complete it. If Apple came out with a product that was branded, "Iphone Todd twice daily," than maybe I'd be a little more open to this new and humdrum trend so casually referred to as "modern technology." However, they do not, and as a result I have refrained from using all, but one form, of technology throughout the course of my nineteen year life.

            This piece of technology is, of course, the stick. The stick was first used somewhere prior to the Paleolithic era and, therefore, is better than any other form of technology. In other words, since the stick is arguably older than any other technological device it is naturally superior to all of them. This is made true by the well known formula that states: "if something is older it is better." If you need any evidence that this fallacy driven formula is, in fact, the truth just look to Hollywood and gaze at the haggard leather faces of the Douglas family. Kirk Douglas, the older Douglas, is totally badass and Spartacusy whereas Michael Douglas, the younger version, through the use of some sort of witchcraft, convinced Katherine Zeta Jones that she'd be better off grabbing at his saggy, fold-weary, genitalia than at my supple and formidable fleshed temple of doom. This is an obvious indicator that older things are better: Kirk Douglas is better than Michael Douglas who, somehow, is better than me.

            The stick is also superior in its ability to synthesize all the technological fineries that have been produced by society. The Iphone claims that it is a phone, mp3 player, and camera all in one, well so is the stick. Yesterday, for example, I called my friend on my stick by throwing it at the back of his head and yelling "Hey!" (PHONE)  I then took my stick and knocked it against a tree catalyzing the creation of what can only be described as "Slick and Solid Gangsta' Beats" (MUSIC PLAYER). Later that day I spotted a bald eagle and decided to take a picture, however, my wooden stick was out of film so I simply bludgeoned the rare bird to death got it stuffed and now it's on my desk (CAMERA). I'd like to see the Iphone take such a realistic three dimensional rendering of an exotic bird. Yes, there might be some people out there clambering for the latest and greatest devices, but to me they're all pathetic shiny pieces of garbage compared to my versatile and affordable stick.