The following are random things that I ended up thinking of and writing down, mostly late at night when I was only half-conscious. They’re not made up, but actual trains of thought on which I was a passenger. Toot toot.
Captchas are cruel
Back when Myspace was relevant, I added random people all the time because I’m a social whore, and that ultimately meant that I had to enter hundreds and hundreds of captchas. Thing is, after awhile the letters stop being random and start being insulting. I’ve gotten both “urgay” and “icfool,” which are totally uncalled for and honestly, quite classless. Even more troubling is the fact that these seem to pop up more and more frequently nowadays, which leads to the inevitable question: Are there more captchas than there used to be, or are they actually becoming self-aware and bitter enough to insult strangers on the internet? I swear, if they’re becoming self aware and robots end up taking over the world, it’ll be like the lovechild of The Matrix and Youtube comments. We assume that hypothetical robot overlords won’t have personality issues like we do, but we’ve effectively asphyxiated the internet with passive-aggressiveness and stalkerish levels of raw, unchecked emotion. If robots ever take over, they’re going to have the personalities of society’s collective subconscious, meaning that they’ll be rude, bipolar, and insecure beyond measure. That would almost make a robot apocalypse worth it.
Four totally scored twenty years ago
What does it mean to be a politician? Basically, it means accepting a lot of money, viciously attacking everyone who disagrees with you, looking sharp in a suit, getting nothing done, and reaching across the isle only for the sake of backhanding the other party. I could totally be a politician. I mean, I’m lazy and argumentative and can rock a suit; I’m basically one huge donation away from being the best politician ever. The only problem is that I tend to mix things up when I don’t sleep, and politics requires many long nights. I could see myself shaking hands with a baby and kissing its mother, which probably wouldn’t go over with said baby’s father. Especially since once I’m in an awkward situation, I panic and commit to whatever I’m doing like I had planned it all along. It would almost definitely end up being an open-mouth kiss.
‘Ello, chap! Kill your friends
Every so often, I realize something about myself that makes me realize that I’m a crazy person. The other day it dawned on me that if I started to hear voices that spoke to me in an English accent, telling me to burn things down and kill people, my first thought wouldn’t be, “Am I going insane?” Rather, my initial thought would be, “Am I becoming British?”
Don’t make war, make music
They say that rock is the devil’s music, so it’s probably pretty fair to assume that his guitar of choice would be an electric (so that he could shred in his own honor). If that’s the case, then there’s a good chance that hell is filled with people who play electric guitars, meaning heaven is probably full of people with acoustic guitars. This is why we should resolve the existence-long struggle between good and evil—not only would it simplify life for all of us, but we could start a pretty awesome band. Throw in a couple drummers and a bassist from purgatory (because they’re both “meh” as solo instruments, so they’re bound to exist there) and we’re on our way to a Grammy. Then again, bands tends to break up and the last thing we need is a holy war over which deity gets to be the frontman.