Thursday, October 6, 2011
Friday, September 30, 2011
Thursday, September 22, 2011
Wednesday, October 13, 2010
Recently another social networking website has popped up and it bothers me. Scratch that, it’s fucking stupid. Basically it’s a website where people share/update what book their reading; if they’ve started it, what page their currently on, and of course when they’ve finished it. I have to leave this site unnamed; again, I think it’s fucking stupid.
Don’t get me wrong, I’m on Facebook and Twitter constantly, in fact I’m even on my iPhone more than my computer going to those sites (In fact the last twenty minutes were spent playing Angry Birds). Fuck the term smartphone, because it’s really a social networking device. Don’t believe me, try not sending a text message for one whole day, I guarantee your head will fucking explode.
I also don’t participate in any of the “here’s my location” apps or websites, like FourSquare, which is basically Where’s Waldo for Sociopaths. For one I don’t want you or anyone else to know where I’m at, secondly who gives a shit where I’m eating, spending money, or what goddamn movie I’m seeing? I’ve seen a friend check-in to their shrink’s office three times in one week for six consecutive weeks. Chances are they’re not getting any better.
I do enjoy (most of) these sites, but come on, one for what book you’re reading? Really? That is some pretentious bullshit, comrade. If you happen to notice a friend posting this information, usually via one of the two aforementioned sites, it’s probably by that chum of yours that’s a little snooty, maybe a bit condescending, and sometimes an asshole. Either way, they carry themselves as though you were just a piece of dust they can easily brush away at any time. Chances are you don’t give a shit either way.
If tomorrow a site was created where you could tweet which jock itch medicine or tampon you used, no one would want to know and possibly that long lost high school buddy would no longer be a follower or on your friend list. They’d drop you like the itch on their cock they’re trying to get rid of.
Personally I’d love to start a Twitter-like site called Shitter. Basically you’d post (let’s call it Shat) about your current bowel movement: color, consistency, scent, noise, frequency, what you were reading (I know, somewhat contradictory, fuck yourself), comfort of the seat, etc. There would also be a geo-tagging feature, so all your friends and followers can know you’re dropping a deuce at the Chevron in Blyth, California on your way to Arizona. Lastly, who doesn’t want the ability to add some nice color hi-resolution pictures or HD video? No one will want to shit without their smartphone. I don’t.
Maybe I would end up on CNN one night, hopefully on Anderson Cooper’s show. Can’t say why, but it seems like he would love the topic. I’d like to be asked to explain why Shitter was socially relevant in this age of online social networking. My explanation: if someone can post, update, or tweet something as uninteresting as what page of a book they last read, then I can go online and say I do give a shit, and now everyone can know about it.
Of course you can always follow on Twitter @SnakebiteReport
Monday, July 19, 2010
Fear and Loathing
Los Angeles, CA
July 19, 2010
In regards to: Not writing a proper blog since December 2008
To:Danger, my attorney in Europe
Somewhere in Europe
Attention: All other readers
Subject: New article on The Snakebite Report coming late summer 2010
Dear Danger (my attorney in Europe),
Message received. I am currently writing a new piece for this seriously neglected blog.
I am back in full effect with this thing and will be working double-time to complete it .
Hopefully it won’t be a colossal piece of shit.
Tuesday, December 16, 2008
I avoided mentioning the Digital Douche Bag in Prêt-à-Porter Douche (May, 2008). And to my audience I am sorry for failing you. However I can no longer take it. Maybe I’m in the Christmas spirit of giving, or maybe I just miss baseball season…
The other night I really wanted to take a pipe up the side of the head of a Digital Douche Bag. And I know you’ve seen him or her; usually it’s him, sometimes her… Okay, close to never a “her,” but sooner or later you’ll see a lesbian who you’d swear was a man and call her a Douche Bag thinking she was a dude. I’m just saying, but you know exactly what and who the fuck I am talking about.
Short hair, taped boobies, men’s clothing…I digress…back to business.
Back in the mid-1990s the Digital Douche Bag was training for the new millennium. It was the kid who walked around the campus of your school wearing headphones connected to their portable CD player all the goddamn time. Typically it was a Sony Discman, and they were pretty cool I suppose, but these kids never unplugged it seemed, anti-social pricks.
That same asshole now seems to go everywhere with a Bluetooth headset on his ear. Bothering me and everyone else around him with a little flashing blue light pulsing from the side of head, fooling us into thinking he is shit-house crazy when we see him talking into thin air. That guy grew up to be part of or society’s downfall, with his illuminated skull beacon announcing he is indeed a Digital Douche Bag for all to see and fear.
This past weekend I accompanied my girlfriend to her company’s holiday party. It was held at any typical resort, she looked as stunning as ever in her black dress, I in black on black suit without tie. We took the time to look good, but like any company party there are going to be a few people who just don’t try.
At least three individuals, each dressed okay, decent, and little bit better locked and loaded with Bluetooth in ear (this is the part I mentioned where I wanted to take a pipe up the side of someone’s head), sitting there, eating prime rib (possibly chicken), talking with friends and coworkers, hopefully having a good time, but for some reason or other they decided to sit there looking like a retarded person from a lame-ass sci-fi film.
Seriously Neo, is there any event, much less a time of the day when you can unplug from The Matrix?
Today the Digital Douche Bags of tomorrow are training on iPods while on family trips to the mall or movie theater. Sometimes this new generation will be traveling in packs and every one of these little assholes is wearing headphones. Making the rest of us wonder how the fuck these kids communicate with one another when apparently they’re all listening to music?
Oh yeah, the text message.
Which brings me to “close to never” for women in the role of Digital Douche Bag. Ladies, look, we boys had our Nintendo’s, Game Boy’s, and Sega Genesis’ alike in the late 80s early 90s. I can’t remember any girls ever playing video games during those awesome days.
So it’s very fitting women have adopted the Blackberry as their source of entertainment and cellular device in the post 2000 era. Just texting away like they’re writing the next great American novel.
But please, put that motherfucker away for five minutes when you’re in polite situations. You don’t need to be sending text messages every five seconds when you’re at a restaurant or bar. It’s that behavior that has given you digital douche bag paranoia, where although the phone has not vibrated or rang, you incessantly pick it up and look at it for your next message. Stop it!
So whether you’re on a date, out with a mixed group of people, or with the girls drinking Cosmo’s in your gold jumpsuit, fake n’ bake tan, and pretending you’re on a dead TV show, put that son of a bitch down; leave it in your car, in your purse, or up your ass. Because like any male wearing a Bluetooth headset in the same type of situation, you too will end up looking like a Douche Bag, digital or otherwise.
I myself am victim of Bluetooth usage. However I live in California and by law I have to be “hands free” while driving. Supposedly it makes the roads safer, reducing the driver’s distraction behind the wheel. I say it makes it easier to light a smoke, stir your coffee, eat a cheeseburger, and fuck with your radio.
I will say Bluetooth headsets have improved the likelihood that my phone conversations will not suddenly end. I simply put the phone in part of home where I actually have reception, and then carelessly wander my home talking away like a character on Star Trek.
But if you ever see me outside of my home or car talking on one, feel free to shoot me in the head. And let it be known I was killed in order to never be known as a Digital Douche Bag. Thank you for saving my dignity, and bear in mind I too am probably packing a gun.
Thursday, October 9, 2008
Sorry Danger, I will fix your lack of Snakebite Report soon enough.
So without further ado part one of an ongoing story.