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Article Fail; Charting the Death of a POS

By, Roode-

You would be surprised how often an artist had to try before he came up with his masterpiece.  Michelangelo had to carve countless dongs out of marble to get “David” just right.  I don’t know what he did with all the extras, but I’m pretty sure I have a guess.

It’s only a matter of time before some archaeologist finds this.

This is also true with FWTC.  As Tresckow pointed out here, many an idea for an article is shit canned, dies on the table, or sits in the queue until someone takes responsibility for it.  It’s not that all of these ideas suck (well, none of mine).  It’s just that, sometimes, we can’t make them work.  Even if we can, something comes along to ball- tag us into submission.  The server could shit its pants just before we hit “save.”  One of our computers will lock up and give us the finger.  Some dipshit (Tresckow) could click the wrong button and end up using a later version of the write-up and derail the train.  In any case, it happens to me, sometimes.  This instance isn’t because the subject sucked or that I couldn’t make it work.  It’s more like it was killed with an over abundance of laziness and cyber-bullshit clusterfuck.

Towards the end of 2010, Facebook’s Friend Finder bullshit was on everyone’s monitor.  It would outright lie and do its best to con your dumb ass into signing up for their thinly veiled market research campaign.  It pissed me off.  I know, it’s hard to imagine.  But, I shit you not, it sent me on more than one curse filled rant.  So, I figured I’d write an article about it.  Why not?  If Ren can pull a bit about ConAir out of her ass, I surely can spin hate-fueled gold.

The start: 

At this point, I’ve got a pretty good handle on things.  I’m raring to go and stayed up all night looking for new ways to say, “dick bag.” 

I remember when I never used Facebook.  Those were wonderful times.  I’m naturally pretty adverse to most technology; smart phones, navigation systems, online social media, shoes…  Look, the point is that I like life to be simple.

Still too complicated!

Here, I proudly admit to my complete monkey-dumbassary as far as technology goes.  As with most pieces on comedy websites, a well-trained author will throw in a little self-deprecating humour in an effort to pretend he’s on the same level as the readers.  That’s not true.  In actuality, the author is on a completely different plane of existence; too advanced to be understood by simple mortals and their love for ass-chapping reality television shows.

It took many a round of convincing by the wife that Facebook was a good tool to keep in touch with family and friends.  You know, the fuckers I try to stay away from.  But, as usual, I caved.  Yeah, I’m a complete sucker for my wife.  From angrily watching Glee with her to removing the frozen pizza from the box BEFORE I put it in the oven.

Set the stove on fire a few times and suddenly I’m the bad guy.

Yes, another jab at my baffling incompetence with being a functioning part of society.  Please note that I have, once again, put my wife on a pedestal, calling notice to her ability to both deal with my shit and walk through life doing every-ever-fucking-loving thing perfectly.  That, and I figured it’s a pretty good half-assed attempt in getting laid.  You know, build her up while making myself look like a stooge.  In case you’re wondering, it didn’t work.   

I signed up for FB, after answering a thousand shit eating questions.  Sure, I could have just opened an account and left it at that.  But, FB doesn’t play that game.  It mocks you every time you sign on.  “Hey!  Your profile is empty!”  “Why not add some interests?  Everybody else is doing it!”  Even if I can manage to avoid that social networking bastard’s taunts, fucker goes ahead and tells the world that I’m a slack ass.

STOP JUDGING ME!

Now, I still have a pretty tight grasp on where this article is going.  Remember, 1.  I hate technology, 2.  I hate Glee, 3.  Facebook is a bag of dicks. 

After I waded through all that touchy-feely bullshit I Ronco-ed that bad boy; set it and forget it.  One of the reasons I chose FB (other than my wife’s mysterious, yet sexy power over me) is that it didn’t have as many of those annoying aps as MySpace.  As soon as I got somewhat comfortable with my virtual existence I was hit by a shit storm of game invites, survey results, and constant advertisements calling me by name.

How do you know my name?! Who are you?!

Yeah, another compliment to the wife.  Look, I need all the help I can get.  I tend to get banished to the couch a lot.  But, my point is clear.  Facebook exploits a human’s basic need to play online games that aren’t worth two shits in Wyoming. 

Oh, Adel questioned the reference to Ronco; saying no one born after 1978 was going to get it.  As with everything else I’ve written, my philosophy is “Fuck you.”

Fuck it.  It’s not 100% intrusive.  These fucktarded ads are just in the left column.  There are ways to ignore bullshit Mob Wars and Whose-it-fuckis FarmVille/town/empire/concentration camp.  Wait.  FarmVille Concentration Camp may be something I’d get into.  Build your barbed wire fences little by little.  Earn enough funds from the government to hire all the guards you need.  And bullets…  lots and lots of bullets.

I can just feel that I’m going to hell for this.

 I’m particularly proud of this section.  “FarmVille Concentration Camp” is the best idea in the history of social networking.  Someone get on this NOW!  I once hammered out a complete schematic of how this game would work.  I had to draw it in pencil, because as you can tell, I suck royal ass at photoshop.  Once completed, I showed it around to a few friends for their take on it- you know; railway stations, mines, labour groups, random executions…  No one really said anything.  I just got a call from Amnesty International.

Then, that’s it.  It went off the rails.  No, my writing didn’t spiral down into a pit of hellishness not seen since Ugly Betty.  I banged out another page or two of ball-grabbing hilarity.  But, oh no.  Life gladly took my efforts on top of Mount Son-of-a-bitch and threw them over the side.

My computer and the FWTC server decided to have a pissing contest.  It didn’t matter who won, because I lost.  FireFox told me that my session lasted a little too long, so it had to shut it down.  So what?  The FWTC server generously supplied by wordpress updates and saves every few minutes.  I may lose that last joke about vagina hockey, but I can add it once I reopen the file.  See?  Easy!

They were all out of “Easy” buttons.

 Firefox decided it was imperative that I leave the website’s dashboard IMMEDIATELY!  Something got its panties in a bunch and it wanted to shut the whole fucking system down.  Alright.  Fine.  I’ll just click “save” on the dashboard and Bob’s your uncle.  Wait a second…

 What in fuck’s name just happened?  the WordPress dashboard won’t let me save my work.  In fact, it’s just staring at me like a retarded kid during a school bus ride.  I click “Save” once.  I click it twice; the little bastard just stands there.  The “Save” button doesn’t give a shit about me or  my needs.  I can’t go forward, because Firefox won’t let  me.  I can’t reason with the dashboard, because it, flat-out, wants to see me in a rage that will take the house and half the block with it.  Hmmm.  The back arrow isn’t all grayed out.  It’s my only choice, I guess.  Otherwise, I’m going to be sitting in front of this fucking computer forever.

Pretty much the scenario I was in.

So, as I usually say when cars, computers, alcohol, and kids are concerned, Fuck It!  The back arrow is my friend.  It has to be.  I just lost a day’s work here.  Something has to still be hanging around on one of the previous windows.  Right?

 FUCK!  That sure as hell didn’t work!  It skipped a few dozen pages and took my ass to a page visit from two days ago?  Why?  Who’s fucking with me?  One of the greatest masterpieces of all times is getting shit-canned because, the cyber-world is being a little bitch.  All I wanted to do is complete this article, get it copy edited, then click “send.”  BAM!  Off to the next.

Well, when there’s hope, there’s someone to kick you in the head with an iron boot!  I backtracked all the previous versions of my article.  WordPress makes it relatively easy to compare and contrast versions just in case you want to include that line about that fat lady being arrested for causing a ruckus (to all you motherfuckas- sorry, I was channeling Busta Rhymes for a second) on that quiet car on that Amtrak train going from Oakland, CA to Salem, OR.  I can’t quite remember if I called her a “douche bag with a phone attached” or “illiterate, obnoxious fat ass.”  So, I go back into my archives (or versions as WordPress calls them) and check the older saved versions.  That would have worked on any other day.  Today is not any other-fucking day.

Yup. That was pretty much my day.

 The most recent version that was saved was waaaaay back when I first started the article.  It had a title and the by-line.  That’s it.  I was miffed.  Maybe, a tad upset.  Fine!  I threw my keyboard out the window.

Happy now? Feeling good about yourself to out me as a rage-a-holic?

But, I couldn’t let my loyal fans (fan?) down!  I diligently pieced together the article, calling upon my photographic memory to fit the puzzle together.  After a couple of hours I was stoked.  Screw the last version of the article!  This one is IT!  THIS ONE!  It’s funnier, more offensive, and more ROODE than all the other versions combined.  I AM ALL THAT IS MAN!

I hit “save” and sent a message to Tresckow that my future Nobel Prize worthy article was ready for copy editing.  Now all I had to do was sit back and wait for the final product; a few funny pics here and there, some grammar correction, maybe a new variation on the term “ball sack…”  That’s right, Jack.  I was sitting pretty.

Somehow, some way Tresckow managed to fuck it up.  Who the hell knows what happened?  He hit the wrong key?  Spilled whiskey on the keyboard?  Called the server a reach-arounder?  In any event, once again, my article was thoroughly punched in the taint.  Half of it disappeared like in a bad Chris Angel sketch (sort of redundant).  What I was left with was the original half of the article I lost a day before.  Whether I was sabotaged, because of jealousy of my AWESOME writing skills or the server really wanted to dick me over; one thing was very clear:

 

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Typical Time Line of a FWTC Article

By, Tresckow

Some of you have asked a few questions as to the behind the scenes workings of FWTC.  I can’t answer every question.  Wait, that was wrong; I won’t answer any questions.  Sorry, dude, some people are great teachers, others just want people to shut the hell up.

Don't make him tell you again.

But, one question has popped up over and over.  “How does an article get published?”  Most of our columnists don’t know (or care).  If any of us had the talent, we would explain it “School House Rock” style.  But, everyone here is generally a talentless, bitter human being (mostly Roode).

If you're too young to know what the hell this is, we hate you.

Step 1:  Conception

The theory:

This is when we all contribute our ideas and creativity to construct the best subject matter possible.  We painstakingly sift through content and current events in order to be witty, irreverent, and timely.

How it really works:

We send condescending emails to each other, bitching and moaning about how there’s nothing to write about.  Eventually, someone adds a subject draft to the queue and it sits there for months like a piece of chewed gum underneath a classroom desk.  There may or may not be the random “borrowing” of someone else’s subject conception.  In other words, if you’re drawing a blank, steal something one of the other columnists already thought of.

Step 2:  Creation

The theory:

This is the ever important step where the rubber really meets the road.  Each columnist is free to take their work to unimaginable heights!  Every topic is researched thoroughly to ensure the utmost in accuracy.

How it really works:

One of us randomly types shit.  The extent of any article research is typing a term into an internet search engine.  Even then, we’re likely to just pick one of the results without actually reading the web page.  Who has time to research?  More importantly, who has the attention span?  If Wikipedia didn’t exist we would be in deep shit.  Research is really just fancy talk for pointing a finger at someone else when your “facts” end up being complete bullshit.

As far as taking our work to “unimaginable heights,” we set the bar pretty low.  Essentially, if something is funny enough to one of us, it gets printed.  Why shoot for the stars when you can rest comfortably in the blanket of adequacy?  We’re not writing Pulitzer Prize stuff, here.  If an article idea is only a step or two worse than something you would find on Cracked then we struck gold!

More often than not, many of the articles sit in the queue until the owner gets off their ass and starts to type.  This usually involves frequent phone calls and mean Facebook posts with the goal of taunting the article owner and attempting to shame them into adding content.  This really only works 25% of the time.  It almost never works on Ren.

Step 3:  Photo research

The theory:

Ah, the visual aspect of the article.  Nothing quite gets the point across than a good picture.  Tireless efforts by the photo research department provide the reader with the best illustrations, ever!

How it really works:

Well, we sure as hell don’t have a “photo research” department.  We don’t have departments.  Basically, whoever is writing the article looks for the most inappropriate and/or disturbing pic available.  It doesn’t matter, really.  I end up going into everybody’s articles and rearrange the piss out of it until it meets my standards.  Then, eventually, Adel, Roode, or Ren notices after…  oh, lets say…   a month.  By that time who gives a shit?  The damn thing has been in circulation already.  Take your creativity and cram it.  You know, Adel does that sneaking editing shit too.  Oh, I guess it’s different, because everyone is afraid of her.  Well, whoopty-friggin-do.

Step 4:  Editing

The theory:

After each article is complete, it is sent to the chief editor or the head writer to edit for clarity, style, and mistakes.  The editor and the author work in a harmonious fashion to ensure that the needed changes are made without hurting the integrity of the article’s message.

How it really works:

Firstly, none of our articles have integrity, let alone any message.  I suppose “I hate you.” is the closest to a uniform theme we have.  “I hate you.” and “I am one step away from being a full blown John Bonham alcoholic.”

Secondly, our editing sucks.  I do the majority of the copy editing with reluctant support from Adel.  There is no editor-author cooperation.  It’s mother loving Thunderdome.  One of us will go into another’s article, edit it, and in turn, the author will put things right where they had them after some derogatory comments about editor’s mother/family tree/coke addiction.  Harsh words are fired back and forth, until someone caves in or ends up in the fetal position.  You know what?  It doesn’t matter.  Even after the battle, one of us goes back into the article after it’s been published and fucks with it, anyway.  There are articles from LAST WINTER that are still being fought over and edited behind each other’s back.  I’m not sure how none of us has ended up dead yet.  Especially at the hands of Adel.  That chick is crazy.

Step 5:  Publishing

The theory:

After the article has been crafted on the level of a fine whiskey, it is released to our adoring readership.  The publisher pushes all the right buttons and inputs all the right codes to bring you, the reader, pure comic gold!

How it really works:

One of us pushes a button.  The article isn’t so much crafted like a fine whiskey as much as it has been filtered through panty hose into a still the night before.  Usually, we’re all waiting for the other to hit the button of truth and shunt the latest article through the interwebs.  At some point I hit “enter” or “OK” or whatever the hell the button says and toss the article out.  We’ve tried to put all the responsibility of the article’s circulation on the author.  It works half the time.  The other half, not so much.  The author is either too busy with the real world, drunk, or busily drunk in the real world.  I can’t stress the alcoholism of our writing staff enough.

This is typically how one of us ends up after a staff meeting.

Step 6:  Gauging the readers’ reactions

The theory:

After publication, reader opinion and reaction are carefully researched to enable us to fine tune our articles to their tastes.  Whenever a reader posts a comment or, otherwise, contacts us, we diligently follow-up and accurately record his comments.

How it really works:

FWTC creed since 2009

 

5 Things Society Would Give Up If It Was Serious About The Environment

By Adel

Far be it from me to associate myself with Roode or any of his articles, but I felt the need to expand upon his Earth Day piece (of shit). It got me thinking. No, not thinking about how Roode has kept out of prison for this long. Not this time. I started thinking about how, exactly, would society have to tackle environmental issues in a way that matters. Then it occurred to me, most of the big changers would never be done, because society is only willing to go so far. Sure, some will toss a plastic bottle into a recycling bin, but you bet your ass someone will drive a block to buy their lottery tickets and cigarettes instead of undertaking such an arduous journey of walking.

Sidewalks? Are we savages?

So, what would society REALLY have to do without in order to actually make an impact on the environment? Check that; a POSITIVE impact. My list of ways to make a negative impact is pretty much never-ending.
Setting a river on fire is way #23, in case you were curious Ohio.

So what would the Earth’s population have to sacrifice to make a dent? I have a few ideas. But, we all know none of them are ever going to happen….

1. Make Country Leaders Give Up Personal Jets

Right out the gate I’m taking a swing at politicians. Well, sort of. I’m not talking about government policies. I’m talking about the non-stop, gas guzzling trips made by most of the world’s leaders.  General air travel has skyrocketed after that pesky Luftwaffe was grounded in ’45. The “lower prices” and bigger airline fleets made air travel a practical reality. Until the early 21st century, that is. Now it’s nothing more than nickle and diming, TSA strip searches, and big shiny targets for terrorist groups.

Our world leaders need to be able to travel at a moment’s notice. They have to tour earthquake areas to acknowledge that, yes, buildings have been reduced to rubble. They need to attend state funerals for people they never knew for PR and, during election season, be able to drop themselves in whatever state they need to whore themselves in for electoral votes. But, isn’t this all outdated and nonessential? Let me answer that for you. Yes. Yes, it is.This is the modern age, you silly pillack. Everything’s virtual or digital… and other things that end in “al” I imagine. First, invest in a Skype or WebEx account. You don’t have to physically be everywhere to give your partisan speeches. Pipe that digital goodness into the Brazilian government‘s multi-purpose room. You don’t see Bin Laden jetting all over the West to distribute his messages of death and infidel fueled rage. It’s all recorded, baby, and posted online. Yes, he’s got a blog and their whole operation is hiding in a cave!

South-park-640x480.jpg

Second, downgrade the bollocks out of the fancy pants transportation. Air Force One, do you really have to be the size of a jumbo jet? I’m thinking more of a Cessna or a Piper Cub. What? It’s just as secure as a gigantic jet aircraft. In fact, it’s even better. Everyone knows that small planes are infinitely harder to hit and easier to land when damaged (The Big Bopper thing was a fluke). Cram the president’s entourage into one of those things with a WiFi ready system and, Bob’s your uncle!

Trust me. I will look a lot better with the Presidential seal on it. Maybe a little less yellow.

2. Stop driving.

 We’ve all heard the non-stop ramblings about how the individual driver is really the cause of much of the Earth’s pollution. So? Billions of people drive every day. China and India have just started the joys of modern auto travel (modern for 1955, that is). Trust me, they’re not going to stop anytime soon. If anything, nations that are just entering their automobile phase are going to rape and poison the Earth in a fraction of the time it took North American and Europe. It’s going to get a lot worse before it gets better. Let’s face it, if China can’t be bothered to NOT add antifreeze to cough syrup, what makes you think they give a shit about emissions testing?

Mmm. Breathe in that fresh city air, Beijing.

Are you really serious about saving the environment, society? Then stop driving, unless your vehicle is hydrogen powered. What about the Toyota Prius? It’s rubbish. If the only alternative to good old fashioned fossil fuel burning automobiles is a car with a glorified D cell battery, it’s best not to drive at all.  Alright, fine. I suppose some vehicles could be allowed. Service vehicles like, trash trucks, UPS vans, and pizza delivery wagons. But, in the spirit of maximizing efficiency and radically lowering emissions, they all have to be the same vehicle. Just think of all that o-zone we would save with our trash-UPS-pizza delivery trucks!

In some cases, the pizza may actually taste better.

What about the children? Surely, they need transportation to school. Why bother? Each generation is getting progressively dumber. Society might as well admit defeat now and end schooling of any kind. Not only would it save billions of dollars, it would finally usher in the downfall of society we’ve all been waiting for.

3. Stop using electricity. Everywhere.

You read that right. I’m not talking about simply turning the lights out when you leave a room. I’m talking about turning the lights out forever. Do you know how much fossil fuel is used to generate electricity to run our televisions and industrial strength wall outlet powered marital aids? Neither do I, but I’m guessing it’s a lot.  Imagine the money your average Joe would save by jumping off the grid. Citizens of nations everywhere would save thousands of dollars a year without electricity bills! Alright, so some of that money would have to be invested in glow sticks. I suppose most households would have to find an alternative heat source, too. Our ancestors managed without electricity. They used fire for warmth, light, and cooking. What’s that? Burning wood is still polluting the environment? For fuck’s sake! You can’t have your cake and eat it too.

Not that you’re really going to be able to make too many cakes in our new electricity free world.

Kicking electricity to the curb may even enrich our society. Without electricity there will be no computers. Without computers there will be no blogs. It will no longer be easy for any half-witted dipshit to vomit typed out dumbassary for the masses. It will be like the old days, the sheer expense and effort weeding out the posers. We’ll have to go back to reading actual books and newspapers. I hear you, an increase in newspapers means the death of more trees, yadda, yadda, yadda. Well, society is going to need to wipe their asses with something. Newspaper is one hell of a multi-tasker! Just be sure to read BEFORE you wipe.

 

Wait until you read and wipe with the first print edition of The Fuse Was Too Cold.

4. Wipe out big chain stores.

Nothing embodies the crushing of the very soul of world commerce like the Wal-Mart or Target empire. Mom and Pop stores went the way of the Utah Raptor and Hammer pants. At first, we all cheered. Finally, there is somewhere to go for our economy sized enema needs! Want to buy a pair of boxers and a head of lettuce? At the same store? Well, my friend, you can do that. Never again will you have to make multiple trips to buy condoms, baby lotion, and duct tape.Well, I guess you’re not really serious about healing the planet, then. These gigantic chain and bulk stores are generating enough waste and energy consumption to make Mr. Burns blush.

mrburns.jpeg

According to this article, states have accused Wal-Mart stores of polluting their water with shitty construction practices. Do you know how much electricity retailers need to refrigerate food, power lights, and operate the exit theft alarms that go off for no apparent reason? Our research tells us it’s a shit load [citation needed]. Even when the store is closed the energy consumption keeps trucking on. Do we really want to hurt our environment for a cheap 12 pack of socks and a case of Dr. Thunder? Well, I’m fine with it, but that’s just me.

What WOULDN’T we do for a 12 pack of Dr. Thunder?

Bring back the Mom and Pops. Not only will that diversify the market, it just might bring scurvy back in style. Quick, it’s the middle of winter in northern Saskatchewan and you want an orange. Tough luck. I guess you should just get used to those bleeding gums. Mom and Pop stores, although romantic and quaint, probably won’t be able to carry anything out of season. Your average corner shop may never be able to buy and stock anything outside of an affordable geographical radius. If a store owner was lucky enough to get a hold of a crate of Spanish clementines, they would have to jack up the price to, about, $10 an orange. Scurvy is cheaper.

5. No more concerts, rallies, or protests.

How many of us have a brilliant sexual, drug, or cop beating concert story to tell? Maybe at that Screaming Trees concert the midget next to you projectile vomited so hard at he actually propelled himself through the air. Or what about that rally/protest for something or other you’ll remember for the rest of your life? There’s nothing like showing up somewhere, en mass, to support/protest the troops/president/lactose/soap…. Seriously, there are rallies for anything these days. You don’t really have to know what you’re protesting about.

 

Be warned, Betty White.

It’s nice to know that people out there are willing to express their opinions and use their right to free speech while punching the environment in the face. The millions of people around the world that go on pilgrimages to see Winger live are also killing the environment. Well, in addition to murdering musical taste.

If you’re not part of the solution, you’re part of the problem, Stewart.

 Think about it. For your average concert you’ll have one bus for the band, 10 or more trucks for the equipment, one bus for the whores, a catering entourage, a couple more buses for the crew, and a huge power supply for all those trippy lights. Take all of that and add the thousands upon thousands of cars driven by the attendees. Well, why not just set a baby deer on fire?

Go on. Do it. Get the lighter fluid and have at it you monster.

 Protests pretty much cover the same ground. Perhaps, the pinnacle of contradiction is when thousands of people, rock bands, and politicians blow a million tons of fuel to attend some sort of global save the world rally. The environment would be better off if everyone stayed home and live streamed Bono’s pretentious egotism on YouTube.

Little known fact: Bono’s ego and sense of self-satisfaction can power a city the size of London.

Hey, Earth Day: Being Aware Isn’t As Good As Giving A Shit

By Roode

Earth Day. This is the day I’m supposed to prance around wearing shorts made of hemp and make out with trees. Right? No? No, wait, that’s Arbor Day.

We must appreciate trees. Mankind needs something to slash and burn.

According to the soon to be sentient Wikipedia (laugh, but it will be an event of SkyNet proportions) Earth Day is:

… a day designed to inspire awareness and appreciation for the Earth‘s environment.

Frankly, I’m not sure how we couldn’t be “aware” of the Earth’s environment. It slaps us in the face every minute of every day. Driving to the store: environment. Cutting the grass: environment. Smoking a cigar while burning a pile of bald tires: environment.

What? Is burning used tires a bad thing now?

The other part of the definition is “appreciation.” That’s not going to happen. Sorry, but appreciating something more than internet porn and schlitz with today’s society is too tall an order. The most recent generation doesn’t appreciate the gut-wrenching bullshit previous generations went through to ensure they can act like pretentious emo pricks. Little things like abolish slavery, win World War II, the Civil Rights movement, and the Industrial Revolution. We’re in the era of “Gimme Now, Gimme Fast.” For shit’s sake, kids, today, don’t know where the goddamn milk they put in the mochiatos comes from!

More mysterious than Bigfoot and less exciting than Game Stop.

Hey, I’m AWARE that grain alcohol will make me go blind. I just don’t CARE. Awareness, from cancer to butt crack exposure, doesn’t accomplish shit. Great! Now people are aware that the environment exists and taking a dump in someone’s well water is a bad thing. So, what now? Being “aware” is more useless than having Ellen Degenerous judging on American Idol.

Seriously, was Gallagher busy?

The trick is to get people to give a shit. I’m not talking about giving a shit on the same level as Ed Begley Jr. or the environmental equivalent to the Irish Republican Army, Greenpeace. There is a line between giving a shit and being an outright annoying and insufferable asshole. Especially when it seems like the biggest advocates are full of crap. We’re looking at you, Al Gore.

Sure, this guy is AWARE he’s taking a nap on the train tracks. He just doesn’t care.

The preachers of green doctrine want us to believe that the individual has the power to reverse global warming, heal the rain forests, and re-freeze glaciers.

This poor bastard got a head full of that doctrine. It got him an indescribable tank tread crushing .

Get ready, here it comes; I’m going to rain all over your environmental circle jerk parade.

Seek shelter, because this mother fucker is gonna pour!

I recycle, because my wife is annoyingly saintly. As a single man, it was perfectly acceptable for me to use my apartment as a land fill/future archaeological artifact pit. Most people won’t recycle unless they legally have to. In areas without mandatory recycling, people seem pretty content mixing their plastics with used condoms and broken dreams.

Above: Your plans to be a doctor and
Pabst Blue Ribbon fueled disappointment.

Take a look at your local airport next time you’re being pissed on by an airline. Most will have recycling bins next to regular old trash cans. People chuck their plastic bottles and paper in the trash can. The recycling bin is literally 1 inch away, but they STILL dump their recyclable shit in the refuse. Why? Because mankind is a species of lazy and thoughtless fuckers. Alright, MOST of mankind is a species of lazy and thoughtless fuckers. A healthy portion is just plain rock stupid. Even with step by step instructions, colorful maps, and cheerful muppets some people are still confused about the whole brown glass vs. clear glass deal.

Even Oscar the Grouch is feeling pressure from the green movement and he’s pissed about it.

You can completely greenout, reusing bacon fat and building a Rube Goldberg machine to separate your plastics from your used toilet paper. There is absolutely no guarantee that smelly mess you so painstakingly separated will make it to a recycling plant, let alone not be exported to a third world country with a healthy helping of medical waste. Take this epic bullshit play a couple of British recycling contractors [allegedly] pulled on Brazil. Worldwide Biorecyclables Ltd and UK Multiplas Ltd are accused of being liberal with their definition of plastic recyclables. In an alleged international act of douche-baggery, the companies threw in bags of blood and dirty syringes to round out the shipment. Hey, a little bit of medical waste never hurt anyone.

Oh, yeah.

Back to the “awareness” vs. “giving a shit” issue. There is no contest. “giving a shit” is the only savior the green movement has. Look at this way: the U.S. was quite “aware” that the Japanese bombed the shit out of Pearl Harbor. If this country stopped with “awareness” Hawaii would belong to the Japanese today. Standing around the shipyard pointing as you mumble to your adjutant, “I am aware the Arizonais sinking and there are tons of men trapped,” won’t really help the situation “Why, yes commander, we are aware Japan has kicked us in the nuts and declared war.” See how being “aware” absolutely didn’t do a fucking thing? You know what did? “Giving a shit.”

“I’m aware that another ship full of sailors over there has just sunk.”

Giving a shit” isn’t content to point its fingers around and count the damage. “Giving a shit” wants, no, DEMANDS we get off our asses and do something about it. While that “awareness” pussy is sulking on the dock, aware that another cruiser is on fire and sinking faster than a fat chick from a Tru TV reality show in a tub of fudge,”giving a shit” said, “Mother fucker! Find out what’s going on, who did it, and their home addresses. Let all of us work as one to a common goal. We will be strong in our unity and resolve!”

See what giving a shit gets you? Flaming hot, radioactive JUSTICE!

No, man. “Giving a shit” needs more. Don’t get me wrong. To “give a shit” you have to, first, become aware of the situation. Then you move the fuck on to constructive action. If your first urge after absorbing the Earth Day doctrine is to show up with a bunch of sandal wearing, hairy, slacked jawed, wannabe hippies toting signs, then my friend, you are part of the problem. FWTC can’t help you.

No, sir. We wash our hands of it.

Continuously bitching while holding signs and throwing environmentally friendly red paint on people to raise their awareness of animal abuse and shouting “You’re murders!” isn’t a way to make friends. It’s no where near the way to garner support for your cause. Especially if it’s during a thousand man BIKER RALLY. You, my hippie friend, will not accomplish jack. I mean other than getting your asses handed to you over and over again or being duct taped to the bitch seat of a biker’s ride, because his old lady couldn’t make it and you’re “close enough.” Ask this group what it got them.

People are aware this dude is taped to that tree. They just don’t give a shit.

Instead of regrouping and examining where they went wrong in their lives, the animal rights group became whinier and more self-righteous. In addition to the above treats, the soldiers in the “war against leather” found themselves being used as urinals, duct taped in fast food dumpsters, and encased in a silvery cocoon of duct tape in a tree (They truly are the Renaissance Men of duct tape). No, this is not a segment of Sons of Anarchy. If it were, it would be one of the coolest scenes ever! Shit! I just stopped writing to give myself a high five out of the sheer awesomeness a scene like that would bring. This shit went on for real this past January at the Johnstown, PA biker rally.

Pictured: Motorcycle enthusiasts that do not take being hit with red paint well.

But, Roode” I can hear some unwashed, meatless diet following, red paint spewing asstard say. “How can you say the individual doesn’t matter? Some of the greatest events in history have happened, because of 1 person.

First of all, shut the fuck up. I don’t even know you, but I can smell you over the interwebs. For the rest of you, NO. Individuals haven’t made a shit sack worth of difference. On their own, that is. Caesar didn’t change ancient Rome by himself. He had an ass kicking, ball busting army to help. Harriet Beecher Stowe may have written one hell of a tome about the injustice of slavery, but it was a shitload of individuals that fought against it and, finally, a government that had to outlaw it. Lincoln may have wanted to outlaw slavery in the second half of your Civil War, but if he was the only one, his ass wouldn’t have been elected in the first place.

“What? I’m the ONLY one that thinks slavery is a bad idea? Fine, let’s just go back to killing Indians.”

Not only does one person have to give a shit, tens of thousands have to. Finally, enough people will give a shit that the government HAS to take notice. This is the tricky part. The government can be “aware” of things until the sun turns into a bran muffin. They need to give a shit too or at least pretend for re-election. Or, in the case of the American Revolutionary War, get tossed out and replaced by a government that makes “give a shit” their motto (well, for 80 years or so). See? Giving a shit is a lot harder than it looks.

Let’s face it, giving a shit requires too much energy for most people. It’s a lot easier to bitch and moan while holding a protest line in front of a Carl’s Jr. You just stand there, chant ridiculous rhyming tag lines, and endure the police beatings that follow. So, you protesters and activists can go back to your display of awareness and hand holding. Maybe I’m wrong about all of this. I’m sure the Earth will be just fine for future generations with awareness, alone.

Oh.

Sincerely,
Roode