I can't ignore this pimp, the Internet. This large, damp gorilla pimp who can't leave the desktop cause it's too busy stuffing herself with dumb, useless, hateful, heartwarming, rainbow shit from its users. God, the Internet is a slut.
You pimp yourself out because you know people want you and when you suck them in, they'll find out they've lost the rest of their lives. You're the second most successful prostitute in the history of the world next to Paris Hilton, (jk, love ya). I wikipediad that shit. Whore of Babylon.
Half of the world is (ab)using you. Don't you know that? Starving Africans get laptops just so they can enjoy some guy eating a live goldfish. 12 year old middle class trolls get on just so they say ____, _____, ____, fuck you without being hit behind the back of their heads. Parent's whose only satisfaction is inside of you, somewhere in your heavy flow, wide set, orifices. And bloggers like me, who use you, just so they can get a piece of mind. I've told you before that I'm just a fucked up gay boy trying to find my own piece of mind, well God, I know what I've written down, I can only imagine what kinds of desperate, pity poor me, oh! Look at me, others have put down. Do you enjoy that?
Do you enjoy being a 50s housewife who lives only to serve her husband? A modern day female in Afghanistan? Do you enjoy being a gimp? Cumdump? A common buttboy? I don't know how you do it. People bless you and then they curse you. I love getting on but damn I curse you for doing that to me. You think I like the fact that I've spent half of my lifetime in front of a lifeless machine instead of meeting real people, enjoying the sun, running around my lawn, digging sand...I don't even fucking know what people do outside anymore. Who the fuck runs around their lawn? And why the hell would I dig sand? I guess I should google it, “what do people do outside” Goddamnit.
I can't even stop myself. I'm addicted to you because you're easy. You'd do anything for me. You're the only one I can depend on to find me a guy playing with himself, two girls and a cup, one guy sniffing himself. I don't know. I don't even want to see them but there they are, like a venereal disease you can't scrub off when I plunge in. I'm surprised I haven't gotten a virus. You're my prostitute and I'm like a lonely old man who can find only some semblance of happiness watching others get fifty dollar blowjobs. I don't even like the sex anymore, its the cuddling that I pay for. But I'll never have that, all I'll ever get is a cumshot.
Did you ever think that you'd spend half of your life in front of a lifeless machine? I didn't know that when I was brought into this world, I'd stay plugged in like some sort of battery cause without us, you wouldn't exist anyway. But we can't leave can we. The simulacrum is in full swing (Baudrillard), guess where I read that, guess how I knew how to cite it. The desert of the real. The image, the desktop has taken over the desk, the substance.
But you know the hardest part? You're not Julia Roberts in Pretty Woman and I'm not Richard Gere. No matter what happens, you'll never love me back. I don't think I even got the analogy right...who loved who? And I already know that its you I'll be turning towards. We'll never love each other. Our love is one-sided and that's not much of love at all. That's voyeurism, lust, desperation, something to pity, but goddamnit I can't stop myself. You'll die without me and you know it, but I can't leave you. We've spent so much of our time together, I don't even know how to get back in the game. You've got me hook, line, and sinker.
Education use to mean books but now its just wikipedia.
Entertainment use to be radios and tvs but now its just hulu and youtube.
Friendships use to be actual friends but now its all facebook.
Fucked up shit use to be finding the most streetwise motherfucker you know, taking a wrong turn at a bad neigbhorhood, and if you're lucky, this guy named Jerome from Yonkers might holler at you, and then you'll get to see some stuff but only if you're man backs you up and you got the greenbacks to prove it but now; its clicking on an “enter” sign and not even that.
I use to ask “how are you”, now you tell me to just check twitter.
I won't even try to stop using you. What's the point?
You had me at dial up.
You're like family now and I accept family no matter how much of a whore you may be, no matter how much I hate you for laughing at me, for making me feel like shit, and, once in a while, for giving me hope, for making me laugh, for supporting me. That's family. I accept you as a part of my life. I tolerate you. I give thanks to you. I can't live without you.
I guess I'll see you tomorrow at Thanksgiving.
=),
FMS
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