I Quit
Yes, someone got fired from Friendster for blogging. Yes, There was a link to Friendster’s account cancellation page on Daypop because people are so up in arms about it. Yes, I clicked on the link and cancelled my account leaving my reason as “Other: You fired someone for blogging, jackasses.”

The real reason that I cancelled my Friendster account is that Friendster is completely gay.

I don’t mean that it’s a big community of hairless dudes, or den of hot girl on girl action. I mean it’s gay. It’s the kind of gay where one could easily use the term gayon to describe those over the age of 17 relishing in it.

To me, Friendster is like NY. No one is there to give, and everyone is talking at the same time. In Ze Frank’s Small World clip, he says it better:

“Friendster is like the L.A. of online communities. It’s like the requirements for friendship have been stripped to the very, very bare minimums… In my version of Friendster you’d have to at least pick me up from the airport or lend me money before I let you in.”

And I agree. The rewards of setting up an elaborate profile to get people who don’t even know my phone number (let alone call me) to post comments about what a great “friend” I am, never really seemed worth it. So, I never log on, I never send messages to people, and I haven’t really thought about it since the week after I signed up. When presented with half-assed reason and a blatant opportunity to do so, I quit.

If I accidentally filled in my reason for quitting as “You fired someone merely for blogging, jackasses,” when I really meant “Friendster is totally gay, you bunch of gayons,” who cares? If I taylor my response a bit to some company to be part of a wave that helps to get some lady her job back, who’s it going to hurt?

Nobody.

I Give Up
I can already hear people complaining that “gay” used in this manner is a derogatory term that propagates a negative stereotype of homosexuals everywhere and I should never bla bla bla. Listen, I don’t give a rats ass what you put your wiener in, as long as I don’t have to watch it, partake in it, or mop up after it. Other than that, enjoy. It’s none of my damn business. But don’t tell me that I can’t say something is “gay”, if it’s the only word that concisely conveys what I want to say.

Homosexuals and the politically correct don’t own the word, they merely snuck in and stole it from some some happy (and possibly immoral) old folks while they were enjoying their tapioca.

Gay means cheerful. Gay means licentious (great word meaning “immoral”), and in the slang, gay means ridiculously stupid. When grandma says that she feels “gay” today, chances are she’s not feeling like jumping Gerty in the hall, and she’s probably not emptying the rainy day fund to head down to the local boom boom room for a licentious romp. She probably is just feels cheerful.

When she says gay, she means cheerful.
When you say gay, you might think “Tab A to Tab A” or “slot B to Slot B”
And when I say that something is gay it’s ridiculously stupid.

And we’re all correct.

Nothing’s Good Enough
Instead of cleansing everyone else’s language in order to make everyone else good enough for us, why don’t we all set a date for when we will be good enough for ourselves. Then, language really won’t matter.

Then you can dump your delicate sensibilities, and read the Vice Guide to Everything. It’s completely irreverent, and kept me and my 12 year old brain laughing like a moron.

Posted in Misc.