Post by Jack of Blades on Apr 13, 2007 12:38:00 GMT -5
So, what do you want? A joke. A dirty limerick. A series of increasingly darker events that eventually leads to the humiliation of some minority? Anorexics. Potential (and likely) homosexuals. Transgenders. They've all suffered some indignity in my role here.
And, with such actions taken, such abhorrent critique given, shouldn't I be in some field wearing a white bed-sheet with a bunch of rednecks singing along to a pair of Aryan twins singing crap lyrics out-of-tune. They're are two reasons why this is not a reality. 1.) I've heard the 'Klan' aren't big fans of anyone who tends to use words above two syllables. In fact, they're not big fans of anyone. 2.) Maybe, it's because, I'd feel part of a community. A community of narrow-minded fascists, admittedly, but a community nonetheless.
Why do Mexicans re-fry their beans?
When have you seen a Mexican do something right the first time?
Part of my image is focused directly on this pariah/outsider thing I've got going on. Mentally unstable and the like. Therefore, it is baffling that I don't side with those I ridicule. The outsiders from what are considered 'culturally acceptable.'
What is Hitler's least favourite planet?
Jew-piter.
But, instead, I use their 'flaws' to my advantage. Emulating their fragility and inability to be assimilated to normal civilization. Forever titled by a bunch of dysphemisms, I enhance their disposition with my sketches and 'wit.' Controversy had a name and it was Jack of Blades.
George: Sam, want to hear a joke?
Sam: Sure.
George: Women's rights.
Some of the more astute people out there will notice I said 'was.' The days of me being considered anywhere near shocking and uncontrollable have long gone. Replaced by expectations of 'cock jokes' and some semi-offensive slight against Oprah Winfrey. The schtick has become tired.
What did the white guy see when he traced his family tree?
A circle.
Nobody cares who Jack has to offend. They've heard it all before. And, yet, for the life of me, I can't see why the awe and reservation has gone? Maybe it's because I'm not prancing around with toothless hillbillies saluting Adolphus. Maybe it's that everybody has come to the conclusion that I'm pretending to be 'controversial' and 'raw' to simply differentiate myself from the usual strategies of 'I'm going to beat you so bad at the...?' Maybe it's that I'm some puppet character used as a tool of cheap satire being controlled by a tired, creatively drained celestial author.
Why is it so easy to become a member of the Afghan Air Force?
You only have to learn how to take-off.
Let's go with the most logical of these theories: the consensus that I am a thinly-veiled attempt to induce fervour so as to further my career. My predilections are unnecessary and manufactured. It's a game of prejudice by proxy; I'm speaking words and jokes that are not my own.
Why is a dog man's best friend?
Because men enjoy intelligent company.
If this is true, then at what point did these words become meaningless? When did my little rants become expected? Is it because I'm considered nothing more than someone seeking attention? Is it because I'm not prancing around with toothless hillbillies giving salutes to Adolphus? Or is that, in a world this shitty, prejudice is one of the only things considered 'culturally acceptable.'
What's the second fastest thing in the world?
An Ethopian chasing a chicken.
What's the fastest thing in the world?
The chicken.
Are they right? Am I just a wrestling facsimile of those conceited adolescents who sell their sixteenth birthday to MTV hoping for some miniscule extent of fame and recognition? I don't even know anymore. That's the problem with insanity in general. Any moment of levity is always eschewed from further thought as being rediculous.
What do you call an excited Chinese man?
Cum Tu Suun.
Then again, what should I care? If this is a little tactic of mine, if there is method in my madness, surely my unfaithfulness has paid off. I have reached the apex of my career. That redundant string of gold is demonstrative of that. My wage is considerable but not worth it, my renown is great but dwindling and my opportunites are vast but ephemeral.
What's the definition of 'being forthright?'
Going into an orphanage and singing 'Where's your mama gone?'
And who are they to criticize me as a liar? This whole little reality we live in is made of exaggeration and fallacy. Its legitimacy is always in dispute. Even with bruises. And yet, they actually have the gall to consider me a charlatan? So, with that being said, maybe I should just carry on with what I'm doing. Despite the fact that I care for the pomp more than I do the prejudice.
Old Lady: I think I've just done a silent fart. What should I do?
Old Man: Put your hearing aid in.
Fuck it. They'll come and make some grandiose campaign against my legitimacy but it'll be lost. They are now certain they can define because they know me as the World Champion, and not Jack of Blades. The respect that is given comes through this belt not my antics. And because of this, I'm viewed as nothing more than a 'shockjock' voicing faux beliefs.
How do you know you're in a gay church?
Only half the congregation kneels for prayer.
I suppose I should end this thing of mine by saying that tonight, in my match against 'Merc', I'll prove myself as something more. The deserving champion. The guy to beat. The Blades of five months ago. I should say this. I would say this, if I cared...
Why didn't the aliens cross the black nothingness to find Earth?
"Because they were worried what the humans where gonna tell the intergalactic council of ministers the first time one of our teenage mothers throws their newborn baby into a dumpster? They were scared to hear that the Earth ambassador was only late for the meeting because his breakfast was cold and he had to spend half an hour punching his wife around the kitchen? And what are the aliens gonna think when they find out, its just a local custom, that over 80 million women in the Third world have had their clitorises forcibly removed in order to reduce their sexual pleasure so they won't cheat on their husbands? Can't you just sense how eager the rest of the universe is for humanity to show up?"
OOC: Reason for recent edit is to add quotation marks to the last paragraph. It's actually taken from a George Carlin routine, 'Nassholes', as found in his stand-up show, Complaints and Grievances. Credit to be given where credit is due.
And, with such actions taken, such abhorrent critique given, shouldn't I be in some field wearing a white bed-sheet with a bunch of rednecks singing along to a pair of Aryan twins singing crap lyrics out-of-tune. They're are two reasons why this is not a reality. 1.) I've heard the 'Klan' aren't big fans of anyone who tends to use words above two syllables. In fact, they're not big fans of anyone. 2.) Maybe, it's because, I'd feel part of a community. A community of narrow-minded fascists, admittedly, but a community nonetheless.
Why do Mexicans re-fry their beans?
When have you seen a Mexican do something right the first time?
Part of my image is focused directly on this pariah/outsider thing I've got going on. Mentally unstable and the like. Therefore, it is baffling that I don't side with those I ridicule. The outsiders from what are considered 'culturally acceptable.'
What is Hitler's least favourite planet?
Jew-piter.
But, instead, I use their 'flaws' to my advantage. Emulating their fragility and inability to be assimilated to normal civilization. Forever titled by a bunch of dysphemisms, I enhance their disposition with my sketches and 'wit.' Controversy had a name and it was Jack of Blades.
George: Sam, want to hear a joke?
Sam: Sure.
George: Women's rights.
Some of the more astute people out there will notice I said 'was.' The days of me being considered anywhere near shocking and uncontrollable have long gone. Replaced by expectations of 'cock jokes' and some semi-offensive slight against Oprah Winfrey. The schtick has become tired.
What did the white guy see when he traced his family tree?
A circle.
Nobody cares who Jack has to offend. They've heard it all before. And, yet, for the life of me, I can't see why the awe and reservation has gone? Maybe it's because I'm not prancing around with toothless hillbillies saluting Adolphus. Maybe it's that everybody has come to the conclusion that I'm pretending to be 'controversial' and 'raw' to simply differentiate myself from the usual strategies of 'I'm going to beat you so bad at the...?' Maybe it's that I'm some puppet character used as a tool of cheap satire being controlled by a tired, creatively drained celestial author.
Why is it so easy to become a member of the Afghan Air Force?
You only have to learn how to take-off.
Let's go with the most logical of these theories: the consensus that I am a thinly-veiled attempt to induce fervour so as to further my career. My predilections are unnecessary and manufactured. It's a game of prejudice by proxy; I'm speaking words and jokes that are not my own.
Why is a dog man's best friend?
Because men enjoy intelligent company.
If this is true, then at what point did these words become meaningless? When did my little rants become expected? Is it because I'm considered nothing more than someone seeking attention? Is it because I'm not prancing around with toothless hillbillies giving salutes to Adolphus? Or is that, in a world this shitty, prejudice is one of the only things considered 'culturally acceptable.'
What's the second fastest thing in the world?
An Ethopian chasing a chicken.
What's the fastest thing in the world?
The chicken.
Are they right? Am I just a wrestling facsimile of those conceited adolescents who sell their sixteenth birthday to MTV hoping for some miniscule extent of fame and recognition? I don't even know anymore. That's the problem with insanity in general. Any moment of levity is always eschewed from further thought as being rediculous.
What do you call an excited Chinese man?
Cum Tu Suun.
Then again, what should I care? If this is a little tactic of mine, if there is method in my madness, surely my unfaithfulness has paid off. I have reached the apex of my career. That redundant string of gold is demonstrative of that. My wage is considerable but not worth it, my renown is great but dwindling and my opportunites are vast but ephemeral.
What's the definition of 'being forthright?'
Going into an orphanage and singing 'Where's your mama gone?'
And who are they to criticize me as a liar? This whole little reality we live in is made of exaggeration and fallacy. Its legitimacy is always in dispute. Even with bruises. And yet, they actually have the gall to consider me a charlatan? So, with that being said, maybe I should just carry on with what I'm doing. Despite the fact that I care for the pomp more than I do the prejudice.
Old Lady: I think I've just done a silent fart. What should I do?
Old Man: Put your hearing aid in.
Fuck it. They'll come and make some grandiose campaign against my legitimacy but it'll be lost. They are now certain they can define because they know me as the World Champion, and not Jack of Blades. The respect that is given comes through this belt not my antics. And because of this, I'm viewed as nothing more than a 'shockjock' voicing faux beliefs.
How do you know you're in a gay church?
Only half the congregation kneels for prayer.
I suppose I should end this thing of mine by saying that tonight, in my match against 'Merc', I'll prove myself as something more. The deserving champion. The guy to beat. The Blades of five months ago. I should say this. I would say this, if I cared...
Why didn't the aliens cross the black nothingness to find Earth?
"Because they were worried what the humans where gonna tell the intergalactic council of ministers the first time one of our teenage mothers throws their newborn baby into a dumpster? They were scared to hear that the Earth ambassador was only late for the meeting because his breakfast was cold and he had to spend half an hour punching his wife around the kitchen? And what are the aliens gonna think when they find out, its just a local custom, that over 80 million women in the Third world have had their clitorises forcibly removed in order to reduce their sexual pleasure so they won't cheat on their husbands? Can't you just sense how eager the rest of the universe is for humanity to show up?"
OOC: Reason for recent edit is to add quotation marks to the last paragraph. It's actually taken from a George Carlin routine, 'Nassholes', as found in his stand-up show, Complaints and Grievances. Credit to be given where credit is due.
