This is a little complicated, but science always is. That's why I was so bad at it in high school and still don't quite get where babies come from. My friend Dave told me they come from this creepy MTA maintenance train with a bunch of tubes and shit we saw one night, and he seems to know his stuff. Anyway.
Charles M. Blow is a columnist for the New York Times, though I'm hard pressed to remember any other time I've seen one of his columns before today, though that could be due to the fact that Saturdays are reserved for sleeping late and immediately reaching for a beer when I wake up. In a totally ironic set of circumstances, Chuck wrote a column about cocaine. You know, cause coke is blow. But oddly enough, the column isn't about how he got to be known as Charlie Nose Candy, nor is it about how he doesn't want people to call him Chuckie Coke. Instead it's about like, how coke is bad and shit.
I know, right? Everyone knows coke is awesome and is only bad once bad things (nosebleeds, owing money to angry Colombians) start to happen. Shit, our last two presidents have done coke and they grew up to be, um, presidents. So M. took a bunch of space on the Op-Ed page to scare all the parents of white children and tell them that their babies are skiing much more often than the black children of America.
So I guess that would be bad and stuff, except that he never gives a straight number of how many high school kids realize coke is the elixir of life and when you look at the helpful graph the Times provides, you realize only 3% of white high students are doing coke, and you're probably having the same reaction I am: "WTF mate?" I mean, if you break it down, it's probably like, 1.8% cool kids in high school and 1.2% druggie losers. And everyone knows the cool kids in high school go on to great things in life while druggie losers will always be losers. Don't even bother with the rehab part of the graph, because you and I and Walter Johnson know rehab is for quitters/losers.
The column also has an awesome scare quote from the National Drug Threat Assessment (???), "The decrease in perceived risk suggests that adolescents are becoming less wary of trying cocaine, which may sustain demand for the drug in the near future." Shows what the fuck they know. There will always be a demand for coke you jokers, because as we went over above, coke is awesome and the president did it so how about you stop harshing my buzz because I think I'm on to something here.
So what does Charles M. Blow have to do with global warming? Christ, I have to explain everything to you people, don't I? OK, so the New York Times is a newspaper. Newspapers are printed on paper, which is made from trees, trees that you have to cut down and thus deprive nature of its oxygen delivery service. So let's say the Times' circulation is ummmm, eight million papers a day and printing Charles Blow's columns takes a page of the paper whenever it's printed. So, since we know the column is a waste of paper, that is eight million pieces of high grade newspaper paper wasted every time he writes. And let's just say for the sake of my argument that everyone gets so angry at Charles M. Blow every week that they hold mass burnings of his column whenever it runs. Eight million newspaper pages burned every other week or whatever, leading to an excess of smoke and soot and ash clogging up the atmosphere, trapping greenhouse gases, raising global temperatures and melting the icecaps. And we and our future children have to suffer the consequences of rising tides the word over all because Charles M. Blow doesn't know how to have any fun. Thanks, Chuck.
Something tells me I should be less than proud about writing angrily abut something I saw on Facebook. But dear, dear F-Book is now the way we communicate in the Future which is happening right now. Anyway, I had a little time at work today and decided to see if I got any more awesome requests to end global warming or kill a Hamas member of be someone's best friend ever in the history of friends, both regular and best. What I saw instead was a stupid game of "tell me about you tag." Way retarded and could only happen on the Facebook. But attached to the game was a note from someone I don't know that was so stupefying I almost booked a taxi to Bill Gates' house to go and demand he unplug the internet. I'm totally for real, I thought of taking a cab from Manhattan to Seattle. Because I was angry. So very angry.
What could make me so angry? Feast your eyestalks on this picture and perhaps you too can fantasize about destroying all the good works of the Bill and Melinda Gates Foundation.
Oh my Godthatdoesn'texist. First off, complaining about the world being politically correct (or "PC" in non-computer related acronym language) is so Rush Limbaugh mid-90s that you should be ashamed of it Nick Young. I decided to include your name in the screencap because it's a crappy name and I know this because you are a crappy person based on the dumb you just vomited all over my internet. Thanks for that. But more importantly...
EVERYTHING YOU SAID IS DEMONSTRABLY FALSE! YOU ARE MADE OF 100 PERCENT LIES AND IGNORANCE HORRIBLE STATEMENT PERSON!
See, this is not real, it is an urban legend/practical joke/drug hallucination:
I know because Snopes told me so, and if you had done a three second Google search, you too would have known this. Instead, you start your incredible series of lies spoken as truth with the most retarded, out of date argument ever. Kind of like if you started a knife fight by stabbing yourself in the face/other body parts over and over, which I hope you do tomorrow you human sack of calumny. Also, telling kids to eat only cookies does promote obesity. Also it would be PC to say it's OK to be a fat waterhead that European supermodels laugh at, as opposed to encouraging kids to eat a motherfucking carrot or red pepper sometime in between refilling their Kentucky Fried McBurger and 6 gallon soda trough. Still, point remains, the Cookie Monster (not Veggie Monster) still likes cookies. NPR knows this, so why can't you? Oh right, because you are made of stupid with moron cream filling.
In light of all that above wrong, you somehow keep going, making the totally ridiculous assertions that the Count was removed for offending OCD people (waht????) and Oscar the Grouch was trashed (comedy champion is me!) for being offensive to the all powerful bum lobby. Srsly, the bum lobby controls Washington, more than the Jews and the mole men put together. No, j/k, Jews run Washington! It goes: Jews, bums, people who think Jesus watches them tug it to internet porn, then mole men. Anyway...
I wish you would introduce me to those people who are complaining about these things, because they don't exist. But maybe I just can't see them and that would make them ghosts maybe? Are ghosts complaining about things that never happened on Sesame Street? I hope not, because if I were a ghost I would spend my time tugging my ethereal junk while watching ladies peeshower cook delicious steak.
And yet you somehow keep failing, falling on your ugly pock marked face when you attempt to stick the landing but, um, like I said, fall on your lumpy misshapen face by making the bizarre declaration "sometimes a monster living in a garbage can is just a monster living in a garbage can." WRONG. Oscar represents being a grouch, fucking duh. Also, he was once orange. Imagine that.
You also encourage all of us in the world to "RAISE HELL TO THIS REAL SHIT AND FEEL THIS!" I really really wish I know what that meant. Am I to raise hell because you said something so profound and deep about our way too "PC" world? Have you made it to real for whiny liberals, Michael Pollan and me? Or are you perhaps encouraging me to "feel this" anger which you have filled me with? You are so GD confusing, which will happen when every sentence you string together would make more sense if it was jumbled up in random word throwerarounder. That thing doesn't even exist yet, but I will create it just to make sense of your hideous lies.
In conclusion, you, Nick Young, win the award for being the worst at the internet. Collect your prize at bottom of the ocean (hint: your prize involves not being not alive anymore).