Mission Accomplished

It saddens me to say that this will be my last post, because I have finally achieved the goal that I set out when I started this blog. It's been a long, strange, somewhat infuriating trip, but all good things have to come to an end sometime. Before I started out, I made a promise to my self that I would quit once I had reached the zenith of my blogging career, and not flame out after a long period of gross irrelevance, like some pathetic nobody. I don't want to be like that band that you see in the shitty dive bar, whose name sounds familiar, and it bugs you for a while until you realize that they were some big name band in the 80s, and now they're playing in some shitty dump just to make rent. No, much better to gracefully bow out when you're at the top. And I think once I explain how I came to this decision, that you will agree that this is the best, and indeed only, course of action I can take. Here is the situation:

I got a hit from the following Google search string: "The effect of fucking in the ass"

That's it. I can't imagine it getting any better than this. I can't even make fun of this person, because it's just so perfect. Someone was looking for descriptions (and possibly illustrations) of a stretched out ass hole, and instead they found my meaningless rant page. That is just too great for words, and you can't make jokes about it, because the situation itself IS a joke. Obviously I have no choice but to bow out of the world of internet self-publishing forever. Thanks for reading, and never forget to always check your prejudices at the door. Peace out.






















































Postscript:
As is hopefully obvious, I am just kidding. The truth is I'm not worried about becoming irrelevant, because my blog is already irrelevant to most people's interests. I have, and will, in the future, continue to write in this space in a way that purely serves my own interests. And no, I don't pity the washed up 80s band. I love washed up 80s bands. If I could be anything I wanted to be, I would be in a washed up 80s band, playing in a shitty bar for unappreciative jerks. That's right, I want to die out slowly and painfully. The fact is, I will continue to maintain this blog long after I and anyone I know has lost interest. In fact, given Google's proclivity for archiving, this site may well last for as long as the human species continues to thrive, because I'm sure as hell not taking it down (If you are reading this post in the distant future, I hope you enjoy my opinions on your now historically ancient software and deities. Actually, I don't care whether you do or not, I was just being polite, though I honestly don't know why. In fact, fuck you, the future. You've never brought us anything but total annihilation by robots anyway. Honestly, I think we should build some kind of device that stops time so we never have to see the fucking future, but shit, I just realized that that kind of technology only exists in the future. Fuck). So look forward to many great times to come, followed by not so great times, followed by downright excruciating times. But hey, at least there will be times, right? And that's what really matters.

Postscript to the postscript:
In that last parenthetical, perhaps I was a bit hard on the future. The truth as, I actually have some very humanistic tendencies, and I have every reason to believe that the future is actually going to be pretty fucking great. I think that I'm being fairly objective when I say that the world is a better place than it was 10 years ago, 100 years ago, and 1000 years ago. I believe that today is better than yesterday, and tomorrow is going to be better than today, every day for a long, long time. But the futures depicted in science fiction are some fucked up futures. Those futures can kiss my ass. Seriously.

Postscript to the post-postscript:
I'm pretty sure this section is already longer than the original post. David Foster Wallace would be proud (If he weren't dead, and if he had any idea who I was when he was alive, or cared about the type of shit that I write about (Also, he might be pissed that I dissed the science fiction futures (Or maybe not, being fucked up is kind of the point, after all))). But now things have just gotten convoluted and silly, and I don't really have any idea where to go with this crazy idea.

Postscript to the post-post-postscript:
I like pie.