Man, Fuck Wikipedia

Hello my nonexistent readers! I'm bored and lonely, so I thought I'd rant to you! Lucky you! Now I know I've been away from this site for a few months...but since no one reads this, it doesn't matter. But I wanted to preach a cause to you. And no, it's not in insane rant against Ewoks, or a plead to help me win the genius grant (which you obviously didn't do, because I still don't have a god damned taser monkey), and it has nothing to do with Christopher Walken. At least not much.

...Think I'm going to Hell for this one...

But no, this rant isn't about blasphemy. It's about justice.

Recently, I've become locked in an epic struggle against an oppressive force. This monolithic organization threatens to crush all free-thinkers like myself, and I've been assaulting it on all fronts for many tireless hours. I speak of course, of Wikipedia. This juggernaut of information (citation needed) has been straddling the internet for years, dominating it like a horny Saint Bernard would a feeble Chihuahua. And I want those tables to turn. I want to be the Chihuahua to hump Wikipedia into submission!

Hump on Brave soldier! Hump on

But you may be asking yourself what the cause of this coup is. It's quite simple. Wikipedia is not allowing me to spread lies.

Now at first, that may seem like a good thing. Certainly it's a good thing to keep lies off the internet (good luck bitches) and it's obviously a good idea to stop me from succeeding in things (Walken will rule us like a king... I promise). But I think I'm in the right in this case.

It's not even like I'm trying to change anything important, which is why I thought that they might let it slide by. BUT NO! Apparently Wikipedia wants to be "factual." Pansies. The article in question, is Wikipedia's apparently sacred tome on the most noble creature to ever grace God's green Earth.

The mongoose.

Wait that's what a mongoose looks like?.... what am I thinking of?

Wikipedia has the balls to tell the world that that plural of mongoose is mongooses. Now, after researching, I found that this is indeed correct. But I can't see why. If the plural of goose is geese, why the hell isn't mongoose mongeese? It just doesn't make sense!

So I decided to tell Wikipedia the new truth. Mongeese. It's beautiful.

Picture unrelated, but totally amazing

But my initial efforts were met with confusion. Wikipedia was intially not sure what to do about my edit. I received a warning that the information I posted was not in fact true, and that I should refrain from doing it.

Fuck that. Because if I've learned anything from Teddy Roosevelt, it's that you gots to stuck it to da man.

"Keep that pimp hand strong, especially when wrestling a mother fucking bear. Which I do."
-Theodore Roosevelt, 1901

So I continued to assault Wikipedia every time they decided to cover up my lies. And after each alteration, I received a new message from Wikipedia, getting inceasily hostile, which culminated in me being banned from editing. At least for 31 hours, which may possibly be the most random and useless punishment time I've ever heard of. Now logically, once my meager incarceration is over, I'll continue my never-ending (read: as long as I'm bored) struggle against Wikipedia.

But one thing that really peeved me about the whole thing was the fact that when Wikipedia finally had enough of my bullshit and banned me, they told me that I could contest my banning if I felt it was unjust. And of course I did. But Wikipedia still felt that my cause was unworthy. And I can't tell why. So I'll let you be the judge, and I'll post my contestment verbatim:

"Dear Wikipedia. I feel that my banning is in fact unfair. All I was doing was trying to create knowledge. Beautiful knowledge. I feel that this rampant racism toward the mongoose has gone on for long enough, and am trying to change the world. These mighty mongeese deserve a better life, and I think it can start with us Wikipedia. We can give them a better chance! We can give them the recognition they deserve! So please Wikipedia, join with me, and together we can save the mighty mongeese from lives of solitude and hatred. ARE YOU WITH ME?"

They were not.

My banning remained, and I was left without a venue to protest. At least until my banning is over in like, 25 hours. Then Wikipedia will pay... and ban me again. So I urge you readers to join my cause, and edit Wikipedia as often as you can. Make that first sentence say the the plural is Mongeese! And maybe one day Wikipedia will answer our prayers, and give the mongoose the recognition it needs. Or lock the page. Whichever is fine for me.

There! That's what I thought a Mongoose was!

Humanitarian Plans

So, because I don't really do any work (yay psychology major!) I spend a lot of time thinking. And that's a bad thing, as we've already talked about. I have lots of ideas that don't get accomplished primarily because I don't have the money to do them. Which is probably a good thing. Because I have some insane ideas.

Fuck you, I think it's awesome

But I think I found a way to fix that situation. It's called the MacArthur Fellows Program.
You've probably heard of it as the "genius grant." It's been popularized in pop culture as some sort of magic program that gives money to people as long as their geniuses. A lot of money. For being smart.
Now, I'm not going to lie and say that I'm smart, but I am cheap and crafty. So I thought I'd look into the program and see if I could exploit it. Going into my research, I really didn't expect that much. I figured that you had to be a... y'know...genius, to get the genius grant. But apparently not. Bonus?
My research found that recipients don't have to be geniuses...hell the only real restriction is that you're a citizen in the U.S.
I shit you not.
According to the site, there's only three major criteria for getting the grant. So let's break them down.

Criteria the First (see, I'm smart): Exceptional creativity. Well that's a freebie. I have oodles of creativity. Just look at this picture

Above: Exceptional Creativity

Criteria the Second: "promise for important future advances based on a track record of significant accomplishment." Okay, this one's a little more challenging. I can easily guarantee that I'll promise future advances...it's not like I'm going to waste all my genius money on crack and hookers...that's what graduation money's for. The part that's a little harder is my "track record of significant accomplishment." Not sure if I have a track record of any accomplishment, let alone a significant one. But I'm sure I'll find a way to weasel out of that one.

Criteria the Third (or, el finito as I like to call it) : "potential for the fellowship to facilitate subsequent creative work." This one doesn't seem like it should exist. What the hell kind of creative work would money not facilitate? Even if your "creative work" was making Popsicle stick sculptures while nude, money would help. So I win this criteria too!

So that gives me two out of three... so majority rules, I get the genius grant. But now the question remains...what do I do with my meager (read: $500,000) reward? Oh...I have ideas. Grand ideas.

First off... I have an idea to better my understanding of both psychology and zoology. A taser monkey. Now, I'm sure you're wondering "what the fuck is a taser monkey?" Well hold your goddamn horses, I'm going to explain it. It's actually a very simple idea. I get a monkey and implant a chip in it's brain. This chip will be linked with a taser that will be grafted onto the monkey's hand.

Artist's rendering

But what will the chip in the monkey's brain do? Why it will send currents into the pain centers of the monkeys brain. But here's the genius of the idea. When the monkey activates the taser in his hand, the chip in his brain will stop. The monkey will thus be conditioned to taser others in order to save himself. Then, I let the monkey loose into a major metropolitan area, and hilarity ensues. Sure, it'll be a living hell for the peasants on the streets, but what do I care? I'm a genius! I'll be watching from my helicopter and giggling mercilessly.

This monkey is going to taser the shit out of you

But my second idea is vastly better. First, I need to get about thirty dead chickens. And right from the beginning, you can tell this is going to be an amazing idea. After I get my chickens, the next step is to put them in little space suits. Because chickens + space suits equals hilarity in my book

GIGGLE DAMN YOU

After I have the chickens in their space suit, I will construct a large metallic sphere, and fill it with different random electronic equipment. I will then place the chickens in the sphere, and seal it up. Once that's done, I will jettison the chicken-sphere to the moon. All of this will be done with the utmost secrecy, so no one outside my organization will know it's happening. Then, next time we send humans to the moon, they will find said chicken-sphere, and will verily flip shit. Were they some sort of space chickens, sent from another planet, but crash landed on the moon? Or are they terrestrial chickens who somehow made a space ship? Are chickens actually more intelligent than us? These are the types of questions scientists would have to ask themselves after they find my chicken sphere. So basically, this plan involves me performing a $500,000 prank on humanity with money I got under fraudulent means. If that isn't exceptional creativity, I don't know what is.

Kind of like this, but with less Dustin Hoffman...and on the moon, not the ocean...and chickens....so nothing like this actually....but there will be Samuel L Jackson

And those are my plans. They are very simple, creative, and could be accomplished with the help of the fine people at the MacArthur Fellows Program. The only hitch in my plan is getting nominated. See, there's no application or anything like that, because apparently a genius isn't allowed to recognize himself. Bastards. The way the genius grant works is that someone else nominates you anonymously. So this is where you nonexistent readers come in. I'm humbly requesting that you contact the MacArthur Foundation and get the ball rolling for me. It's probably best not to tell them of my plans...if they ask, tell them I'm going to cure cancer...or something.

So...get on that...

I really wish I could stop making these...but I can't...I just can't

Mental Prowess

So, I'm extremely bored and decided I'd post something on here. But what to post? I don't really do anything interesting, and I'm not particularly clever. So I basically put my mind on random and let whatever came out flow forth. And that was a bad idea. Because I have a horrible mind. And after common sense made me delete several ideas, I decided to write this post. A chronicle of how my mind works...or doesn't work...whatever. At first I was going to explain my plan for putting Christopher Walken in every movie ever made. Just because. It's a grand plan, but this is more important.

Tee hee

Over the years, I've perfected the model for how my mind works. A very common way to describe people's mind is the idea of a train of thought. I like this. Except most people probably picture one train running. That's not my style. I have thousands of trains shooting around as dangerous speeds, ramping over each other and causing massive crashes. And there's tanks. Why tanks? Fuck you, that's why.

Like this, but with...trains...and tanks...and more purple

But back to the random thoughts. MARMALADE. See that? That was a random thought. I get those. A lot. Random little thought bubbles come up, and launch out of me...without much control by me. Going along with the train metaphor, my random thoughts are hobos. Gentle souls riding the rails, and bailing out between stops so the Pinkerton's don't catch them. Except my hobo's are often filth encrusted, angry people who have Tourettes.

An incredibly accurate portrayal of my thoughts... and me in ten years

So as a result, I'll be in the middle of a sentence, and suddenly my mind will yell something at me. Something horrible. And most likely, the little guy in my head that runs my Inner Scrutiny, Frank, allows them to get through, and out into the world. Great job Frank. So one minute you'll be talking to me (not really because...people don't talk to me) and out of nowhere I'll yell something like "DAVID BOWIE WITH FORCE LIGHTING SHOOTING OUT OF HIS CROTCH." Then you run. And I chase. And then cops come after me. And I go to jail. And get raped. And cry and cry and cry.... but I digress.

David Bowie seen here making love with his Ego

And my mind does this ALL. THE. TIME. It's like my mind has the ability to google search, and all I do is hit the "I'm feeling lucky" button. And instead of making me lucky, it spreads filth. And sadly, sometimes my mind just gives me random pieces of a puzzle, like I'm hitting the "random page" button on Wikipedia, then have to sculpt an idea out of the remnants. And I get thoughts like "Belgian Lapdance-Mobile" and then I have to come up with what the hell that would look like.

Classy and discreet

And that's the lesson for today. Since no one actually reads this, I figured I would vent some crazy. So there you are. Good luck getting David Bowie out of your head. And remember, write to your Congressman to get my Christopher Walken idea off the ground. We can do it people. But it will take work...so I can't do it. I'm terminally lazy. And antisocial. And not real.





SHAZAM!

Hell yes.