"And the nominees for most commercialized money-scam of a holiday aaaaaaare..."
I wonder if St. Valentine, wonderful law-breaking man that he was, would really appreciate the sentiment of businesses blatantly stealing the public's money in exchange for the false belief that someone's gift of a cheap teddy bear or soon-to-be-dead flowers actually means that they love you. Nothing says, "I'm willing to spend the rest of my life with a fat person" quite like giving your partner a double-stacked box of Hershey's.
In all seriousness though, V-day pretty much comes down to three things: money, sex, and commitment. It's all about who you're banging, how long you've been knocking boots, and whether their gift to you is a card or a Camaro. I'll admit, I have absolutely no problem with this. A holiday that pits the sexes against one another in the ultimate who-loves-whom more competition... someone's always bound to get hurt. Not to mention the male gender's natural tendency toward emotional stupidity putting them at a pathetic disadvantage.
So here it is, world: Happy Valentine's Day to all of you. Ladies, I'm not going to send you chocolates, flowers, or anything cuddly. My generous offer: I'll spring for the condoms as long as you don't stick around for breakfast. Sound like a fucking deal?
Monday, February 14, 2011
Saturday, January 1, 2011
Year of the Super-Villain
It's a new year: 2011. The beginning of January is the time for making resolutions. Lazy people resolve to get more exercise. Fat people resolve to lose weight. Smokers resolve to quit. Personally, I've never seen the value in making resolutions at all. While the beginning of January may be the time for making them, the end of January is the time for them to be forgotten or abandoned.
Now isn't that the sad thing about the human race? They are so lacking in will power and (as it is the best word for this situation) resolve. The attention span of a human is pathetic. Sure, you might tell yourself that you plan on losing 2 pounds a week, eating healthier, and giving up those nasty cigarettes, but in the end, it's going to be too much work, too boring, or simply something will distract you from your goals.
The only way to avoid failing with your New Years resolutions is to not set any goals at all. I never make New Years resolutions. I simply wait for opportunities to arise and then act on them. For example, I could have resolved to make more money this year, but that involves putting forth an effort. However, this morning, when I saw a man withdraw $500 from the bank, I simply took advantage of the opportunity and mugged him. So much simpler to just rely on opportunity.
Looking back, though, on the year that I had in 2010, I do see areas for improvement. Taking up blogging has been a good start, as is facebook, but I still need to figure out ways to enhance my super-villainous magnitude. What good is it being the bad guy if no one acknowledges your acts of malice? I'm thinking I may have to undertake something much grander than anything I've done in the past... something that will truly capture the attention of the world. Time to put the plotting part of my brain to work. 2011 will be a year of evil and villainy.
Now isn't that the sad thing about the human race? They are so lacking in will power and (as it is the best word for this situation) resolve. The attention span of a human is pathetic. Sure, you might tell yourself that you plan on losing 2 pounds a week, eating healthier, and giving up those nasty cigarettes, but in the end, it's going to be too much work, too boring, or simply something will distract you from your goals.
The only way to avoid failing with your New Years resolutions is to not set any goals at all. I never make New Years resolutions. I simply wait for opportunities to arise and then act on them. For example, I could have resolved to make more money this year, but that involves putting forth an effort. However, this morning, when I saw a man withdraw $500 from the bank, I simply took advantage of the opportunity and mugged him. So much simpler to just rely on opportunity.
Looking back, though, on the year that I had in 2010, I do see areas for improvement. Taking up blogging has been a good start, as is facebook, but I still need to figure out ways to enhance my super-villainous magnitude. What good is it being the bad guy if no one acknowledges your acts of malice? I'm thinking I may have to undertake something much grander than anything I've done in the past... something that will truly capture the attention of the world. Time to put the plotting part of my brain to work. 2011 will be a year of evil and villainy.
Sunday, December 26, 2010
The Legend of Hogmas
Now that Christmas is over (and just let me say, thank god it is!), we've entered the time of year that I like to fondly refer to as "Hogmas." Everyone's all sitting around being cheery and basking in the wealth of useless presents they've received from all the people who supposedly care about them. Call me crazy, but if I really cared about someone (hypothetically), then I wouldn't want to burden them with crap that they're never going to use and probably going to re-gift again anyway. That's just mean.
That being said, I don't actually care about anyone. In fact, I dis-care about people. I un-care them. My heart is filled with anti-caringness. And so I take this time of post-Christmas glee to bring disappointment and inconvenience to the world by means of the high holiday Hogmas.
The story of Hogmas is a novel tradition. It's not just the birth of a beloved holiday, but the birth of a legend. Many many years ago, when children still believed in all that Santa Claus bullshit, and before the story of the "Grinch" came into being, there was a villain (I regress to the term "villain" rather than "super-villain" because of the olden-days sad lack of super) who was part man and part animal. Now, this manimal had the muscled torso and limbs of a lumberjack (minus the flannel eye-sore), but the up-turned snout, twisted tusks, and darkened instincts of a boar. His eyes had a beady twinkle and his mouth wore a smirking sneer. He was (I am) the Hogman.
For years, the Hogman watched the human race exchange their holiday toys and trinkets, disgusted by the overwhelming spirit of Christmas. It was so full of love and sharing and joy. But, as he watched, the Hogman soon began to notice something: each year, the love and joy became less, and was instead being replaced by something he had long been rooting for: greed.
Of course, the human race doesn't call it that. For them, greed has a much more socially acceptable name. It's called "consumerism." Watching the humans and seeing how this consumerism was taking over their beloved holiday or joy and sharing, the Hogman felt he had an obligation. He had an obligation to magnify this greed, and, as a child burns an ant with a magnifying glass, so he would turn Christmas to ash.
The legend then goes (and trust me on this one, because I know what I'm talking about) that the Hogman planted mind control devices in the headquarters of every major business in the world, forcing the commercialization of a once spiritual holiday. Boxing Day and Boxing Week sales worldwide began to drive the human race into a feral shopping frenzy. Whatever gifts they received weren't enough, even when, year after year, the gifts became bigger and more expensive and less meaningful.
And so, present day, you can look out over the Christmas lights and ornaments, the red and white Santa hats and springs of hanging mistletoe, and you'll see the glory of Hogmas. It's in every fist-fight over the last sale item. It's in every tantrum thrown by a spoiled brat when they don't get their puppy or Barbie or race car. That is Hogmas. It's my favourite time of the year.
That being said, I don't actually care about anyone. In fact, I dis-care about people. I un-care them. My heart is filled with anti-caringness. And so I take this time of post-Christmas glee to bring disappointment and inconvenience to the world by means of the high holiday Hogmas.
The story of Hogmas is a novel tradition. It's not just the birth of a beloved holiday, but the birth of a legend. Many many years ago, when children still believed in all that Santa Claus bullshit, and before the story of the "Grinch" came into being, there was a villain (I regress to the term "villain" rather than "super-villain" because of the olden-days sad lack of super) who was part man and part animal. Now, this manimal had the muscled torso and limbs of a lumberjack (minus the flannel eye-sore), but the up-turned snout, twisted tusks, and darkened instincts of a boar. His eyes had a beady twinkle and his mouth wore a smirking sneer. He was (I am) the Hogman.
For years, the Hogman watched the human race exchange their holiday toys and trinkets, disgusted by the overwhelming spirit of Christmas. It was so full of love and sharing and joy. But, as he watched, the Hogman soon began to notice something: each year, the love and joy became less, and was instead being replaced by something he had long been rooting for: greed.
Of course, the human race doesn't call it that. For them, greed has a much more socially acceptable name. It's called "consumerism." Watching the humans and seeing how this consumerism was taking over their beloved holiday or joy and sharing, the Hogman felt he had an obligation. He had an obligation to magnify this greed, and, as a child burns an ant with a magnifying glass, so he would turn Christmas to ash.
The legend then goes (and trust me on this one, because I know what I'm talking about) that the Hogman planted mind control devices in the headquarters of every major business in the world, forcing the commercialization of a once spiritual holiday. Boxing Day and Boxing Week sales worldwide began to drive the human race into a feral shopping frenzy. Whatever gifts they received weren't enough, even when, year after year, the gifts became bigger and more expensive and less meaningful.
And so, present day, you can look out over the Christmas lights and ornaments, the red and white Santa hats and springs of hanging mistletoe, and you'll see the glory of Hogmas. It's in every fist-fight over the last sale item. It's in every tantrum thrown by a spoiled brat when they don't get their puppy or Barbie or race car. That is Hogmas. It's my favourite time of the year.
Sunday, December 5, 2010
I'm going viral!
I have to admit, I'm new to this whole "blogging" thing, but if it worked for Dr. Horrible, I don't see why it won't work for me. So here goes.
Hello internet world! In case you haven't heard of me (which, let's be serious, you probably have, especially since you're here reading this), I am Hogman, and I am the greatest super villain in the world. Your first thought that I'm going to address is the one that immediately popped into the heads of all you thus far ignorant readers: how can I call myself the greatest super villain in the world if you've never even heard of me before? Thank you for asking.
The thing about me is that I have lived the majority of my super villainous life under the radar, stayed off the grid, kept my head down. But no more! With this wonderful revolution of bloggers and internet hounds, what better way to spread my maniacal practices and experiences than through the world of cyberspace? And honestly, it's a generous gift from me to all of you that I'm actually willing to share my clandestine adventures. Count yourselves lucky, children of the World Wide Web.
I'm not really sure what goes into a first blog. There must be some way to ease you into my corrupt mind. Background maybe?
Well, of course you know all about the Pink Fairy. Or maybe you don't... Either way, there's not much to know. The Pink Fairy is my so-called "nemesis," a complete loser who claims to be a super hero. Trust me, there's not a drop of super in that guy. This whole things started years ago. It was stupid. I cut in front of him in line at the bank. (Everyone cuts in line.) He decided to politely make a big deal out of it, so I put his head through the ATM. It felt so good. I mean, not for him, obviously. But the power I felt pumping through my veins... nothing compares. Breaking things is like the fuel to an adrenaline junky's fire. Anyway, since the machine was open at that point, I figured I'd make a profit. Hogman: $10,000 - ATM: $0. Suck it, banking industry!
From there, I just kept running into that little bugger. He was at my accountant's office when I was trying to evade my taxes. He was at the shooting range when I went to renew my membership. He was at the grocery store when I went to get steaks for a summer cookout. He just kept showing up wherever I went. Things began to escalate and before I knew it, he's making it his mission to get me behind bars! Let me tell you, readers, the only bars I'll ever be behind are ones with a crisp brew on tap. I'm behind them 100%.
I guess that's all for now. What exactly is the protocol for wrapping up an introductory blog? The Godfather's mansion is up for sale. I'm hoping to dive on that bad boy. It would be a killer place to set up a new Hogheadquarters. I'll keep you all updated on how the bidding war goes. That place is going to be mine.
Hello internet world! In case you haven't heard of me (which, let's be serious, you probably have, especially since you're here reading this), I am Hogman, and I am the greatest super villain in the world. Your first thought that I'm going to address is the one that immediately popped into the heads of all you thus far ignorant readers: how can I call myself the greatest super villain in the world if you've never even heard of me before? Thank you for asking.
The thing about me is that I have lived the majority of my super villainous life under the radar, stayed off the grid, kept my head down. But no more! With this wonderful revolution of bloggers and internet hounds, what better way to spread my maniacal practices and experiences than through the world of cyberspace? And honestly, it's a generous gift from me to all of you that I'm actually willing to share my clandestine adventures. Count yourselves lucky, children of the World Wide Web.
I'm not really sure what goes into a first blog. There must be some way to ease you into my corrupt mind. Background maybe?
Well, of course you know all about the Pink Fairy. Or maybe you don't... Either way, there's not much to know. The Pink Fairy is my so-called "nemesis," a complete loser who claims to be a super hero. Trust me, there's not a drop of super in that guy. This whole things started years ago. It was stupid. I cut in front of him in line at the bank. (Everyone cuts in line.) He decided to politely make a big deal out of it, so I put his head through the ATM. It felt so good. I mean, not for him, obviously. But the power I felt pumping through my veins... nothing compares. Breaking things is like the fuel to an adrenaline junky's fire. Anyway, since the machine was open at that point, I figured I'd make a profit. Hogman: $10,000 - ATM: $0. Suck it, banking industry!
From there, I just kept running into that little bugger. He was at my accountant's office when I was trying to evade my taxes. He was at the shooting range when I went to renew my membership. He was at the grocery store when I went to get steaks for a summer cookout. He just kept showing up wherever I went. Things began to escalate and before I knew it, he's making it his mission to get me behind bars! Let me tell you, readers, the only bars I'll ever be behind are ones with a crisp brew on tap. I'm behind them 100%.
I guess that's all for now. What exactly is the protocol for wrapping up an introductory blog? The Godfather's mansion is up for sale. I'm hoping to dive on that bad boy. It would be a killer place to set up a new Hogheadquarters. I'll keep you all updated on how the bidding war goes. That place is going to be mine.
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