Bald Faced Lie

I don't really have anything to write about this. Maybe I'll think of something clever and turn it into a real post. Maybe this will be gone once I realize it's stupid. Maybe I'll leave it as is. Anyway, the author of this article keeps using the term "Bald faced lie." It's like nails on a chalkboard to my brain. I wanted to just comment on his article to feed that depraved part of me that thrives on pointing out others' stupidity. But that brings me to my other pet peeve (like I only have two): websites where you have to register in order to comment on their articles. I want to make fun of this idiot who thinks that the term "bald faced lie" holds any coherent meaning whatsoever, but first I have to give pcworld.com my life story and e-mail address and put up with their spammy newsletters that I couldn't give two shits about, all just to make someone ashamed of an honestly not so egregious mistake. So instead of being able to spend two seconds to write a sentence or two in order to fill my snide asshole quota for the day, I was forced to come here and type this mediocre rant. Considering it's only my 3rd post (4th if you count that ridiculous two-panel comic), and the other two are more or less rant based, I'm afraid I may be pigeon holing myself as a curmudgeonly ranter. And it's all Rosie D. and Dan "Bald Faced" Tynan's fault.

Maybe later I'll attempt to draw what I think a bald faced lie looks like.

*EDIT - Here is my artistic rendition of a Bald-faced Lie.

**EDIT 2 - As I wipe the egg off my face, I'll inform everyone that apparently bald-faced is the proper saying. It originated from the 18th and 19th centuries, when apparently it was popular for businessmen to wear beards in an attempt to make it harder to tell a lie. Therefore, a bald-faced liar was a very good liar, as he could convince you of a lie without relying on his beard to mask his "tell".

Beatles or Stones?

I've been wondering what to write about all day. I've started on several topics, but nothing seemed to really inspire me to write more than a few sentences. I would like to thank one Rosie D, 27, from Dallas, TX for changing that. She gave the stupidest answer I could possibly imagine to a very simple question. Let me backtrack a bit to give you the proper perspective.

I was lazily sitting in front of the computer, trying to feel inspired to write something. And by trying to feel inspired, I mean wasting my time on StumbleUpon. I was directed to DonQ's LadyData. This website "gather[s] unfiltered opinions from a massive team of lady insiders. Then [they] make that data available to you." Okay, interesting concept.

Well it just so happened that StumbleUpon took me to a particular question on DonQ that I would take quite seriously. It simply asked Beatles or Stones? If you clicked the link, you can see that the overwhelming majority of the women polled (83%) preferred the Beatles over the Stones. You can also highlight each girl who answered and find their name, age, location, and a one sentence reason for their choice.

Good answer, Erika T., 23, of Miami, FL.

Forewarning: if you do not understand that this question is asking whether the women prefer The Beatles or The Rolling Stones, I recommend you do not continue to read.

Both sides had their women who didn't particularly care for either, or liked both, so these women just picked one because they didn't care, maybe slightly preferred one over the other, maybe they heard a song from the Beatles recently, or they received a dramatic sign from God.

God loves sending messages via baby.

I found that those who picked the Beatles had more who had a particular attachment to the band or had something at least slightly more insightful to say about them than "So good." Also, without Mick Jagger, apparently only 14% would have picked the Stones.

And now, the source of inspiration for this post, the one Rosie D. Oh, Rosie. Rosie, Rosie, Rosie. Shame on you. May the shame of a thousand has-been rock 'n roll legends rest squarely on your ignorant shoulders.

It's hard to think of a way to graphically portray shame.

Especially of the rock'n roll variety.

At first, when I read your answer, I thought that maybe you didn't finish your thought. Maybe you were halfway through writing your reason for picking The Stones and your house was demolished by a Buffalo stampede. They have those in Texas still, right?

Seriously. They are.

But no. I eventually realized the reason for your answer. The only reason you could have given the response, "Stones can be pretty," is that you actually thought the question was asking if you prefer beetles or stones. In your vacuous, cultureless brain, you read "Beatles or Stones" and thought you were being asked if you prefer scurrying, hard-shelled insects, or lifeless lumps of rock.

A tough choice we've all had to make.

Words cannot describe the shock I felt upon this realization. I can wrap my head around the fact that maybe upon first reading the question you may be confused. But then I imagine you sitting there, staring at the question. It's spelled out for you right there. The Beatles. Not Beetles. And when paired with the Stones. It's one of those questions everyone has been asked at least once, that or the popular variant of the question, "Beatles or Zeppelin?" According to Rosie D, that question is asking if you prefer bugs or blimps.

Why not both?

And she is 27 years old. I know, those bands have both been around much longer than 27 years. I know, it's not everybody's type of music. But both of them are such cultural icons, both made such an impact on music as a whole, and for the headbanging love of the rock'n roll gods if that question isn't asked ALL THE TIME!

Congratulations, Rosie. You are an idiot.

Rosie, even Ringo Starr is ashamed of you.

This is Ludacris

Yes. I know. Another stupid pun. Sorry.

Titles Are Hard

As I spent yet another night staring at my ceiling while sleep eluded me, I decided I would try and give this whole blogging thing a shot. Around 4:30 in the morning I grabbed an old composite notebook and furiously scribbled sentences that most people would interpret as pure incoherence.

These are actually the ones

that make the most sense.

In roughly fifteen minutes I already had two pages filled with ideas for topics I could write about. This made me feel excited. You see, I have a really bad habit of having great ideas that never make it past the light-bulb-turning-on-above-your-head stage. I have a "Eureka!" moment, and then convince myself that the idea is so awesome that there's no need for me to write it down. Not only do I refuse to store these bits of genius on any kind of permanent medium, but within five minutes of epiphanic discovery I am back to doing something utterly typical and mundane. Afterwards, be it a few hours, days, or weeks, something jogs my memory to where I can't exactly remember the idea; I can only remember how incredible it was supposed to be. I then spend all day trying to remember every detail. Since I spent at most five minutes on the initial idea formation, when I try and recall it I conjure up some bastardized monstrosity of what I am now convinced was the comedic equivalent to the cure for cancer.

I don't think that's quite right...

Also, T-Rex doctors wear cut-off lab coats

so their arms can fit.

But I digress. As indicated by the title of this post, once I decided to make this blog and had ideas about what I would write, I had to come up with a title for the blog itself. This proved infinitely harder than I anticipated for two reasons:

1) Most of my ideas were stupid

I probably should have given up here.

As you can see, I apparently had some obsession with including the word 'pun', even though I have absolutely zero ideas for any post even remotely related to puns.

2) My other ideas had already been taken.

Buttholes.

This was initially frustrating because it made me feel unoriginal. Every time I came up with a name, I checked to see if it had been taken. The first few were blogs that somebody had already made, wrote approximately five posts back in 2002, then abandoned. I think there should be an expiration date on blogs. No new posts in five years, you lose rights to the name.

The second frustration came next. I tried using some more obscure names, and found to my dismay that they were taken as well. However, when I typed in the address to see if the blog had any sort of success, I found this instead:

Gaping buttholes.

What the hell is that?! These people created a blog domain name and then never even made the actual blog! I began to take this personally. I imagine some asshole with inexplicable psychic powers whose sole purpose in life is to ruin every idea I have.

I didn't feel like drawing his body.

So we end up here, with the title 'Initially J'. After all my good ideas were exhausted, I wanted to call this 'Just J'. That stems from back in high school, and really would have been a small inside joke between myself and people who will likely never read this. But, of course, the psychic asshole beat me to the punch and had already taken it. Now I know his name, and it's Jason, and he thinks he's clever and calls himself J. That's not fair. My name is Jay, so J is pretty much the only nickname I can have that makes any sense. It doesn't even really count as a nickname, it's just a lazy way of spelling my actual name. How dare somebody else use my real name as a nickname?

Appropriate response.

So I vented my frustration to my mother, because I'm unemployed, live with my parents, and am pathetic like that. So after a few moments, she said, "What about 'Initially J'?" I thought for a moment. That could work. So I used that as a title, and while I sit here ranting about how hard it was for me to think up a name, I come full circle and realize that my new title is, in fact, a pun.