Shotgun Singing in the Dead of Night

I have no idea what legal crisis is worth me coming into work at four in the fucking morning, but I assure you short of someone being kidnapped and forced to endure Chinese water torture as a result of some contractual mistake I made, I’m none to thrilled to be sitting here in a completely dark office building with no one but me and the chipmunk I give almonds too for strategic “He is soooo cute!” purposes to keep me company.

It would take a miracle for any blog to impress me this lovely morning, if you can call it morning seeing as the rest of the goddamn world is yet to be awake, and Ole Blue The Heretic comes nowhere even close to being a blog that I could blink my sleepy eyes at and be somewhat okay with. I’d say he ranks just slightly below how wonderfully the red of my bloodshot eyes brings out the green of my iris, sure, it’s a cool effect but it’s not pretty in implementation. Besides, I’m Jewish and Christmas eyes isn’t a look I really want to go for.

Template: I love the color black, I love the color red, I love the contrast of bright red on black, I absolutely fucking hate this primarily red and black template. That takes talent, doesn’t it? I can’t quite place my finger on it exactly, but I’m going to take a stab in the dark and say that black and red go wonderfully together in compliment, not in side-by-side symbiosis with a dash of disgusting mustard yellow to spice up the already unprepossessing mix. The header makes me want to grab a magic eye book and waste my time trying to see the mystery resting in the mind boggling design. Is it that hard to write “Ole Blue the Heretic” in logical order? ‘Course not. You have to go and take some bullshit artistic license and divvy it up with a left-left right-right combination of reading that you may think makes you clever and oh-so artistic, but I say it makes you an asshole. Granted at 4:30am I don’t want to be reading anything other than whatever a nice dream would be writing on the back of my eyelids, but even pumped full of caffeine I would find that divvy annoying as all hell. The fact the title of your posts is so tiny and topped by a gigantic date in none other than yellow is distracting and it’s overbearing. I said above that the yellow is disgusting, and I’m going to take a moment to reiterate that: YELLOW IS DISGUSTING. It takes a nonexistent the right shade of yellow to make it aesthetically pleasing, and it really does take a specific type of background to pull off mustard yellow without it being gross. As your blog stands now, the sidebar has a bumblebee appeal and the blog area has a mustard and ketchup appeal. If that’s the effect you’re going for, then by all means check into a mental ward and while there feel free to take an art class to maybe get an eye for what does and does not look good, and if you actually paid over $100 for this template, dear lord man! Pay me half that and I’ll come up with something much, much, much better…and I have for many readers who have asked, for free.

Oh yea, roll up your archives [and your links, Christ is that list long enough?]. I’m guessing your overpaid web designer wasn’t competent enough to get that slight nuance of space making, but we all are responsible for the work we have others do for us. Respondeat superior: Learn it, live it, love it.

Content: I have no idea if this is works of fiction sprinkled with life stories or not, but it really does nothing for me. I can see where it would do something for someone, because who doesn’t love reading short little stories especially in this day and age of wireless internet and the ability to take your laptop into the shitter with you [you know you have before, stop looking at me with disgust], but for me it’s lacking. I’m an avid reader and always delight in reading the details of someone’s imagination and marveling at other people’s creativity. Could possibly be the fact that even mother nature is still enjoying her slumber, but his stories make me kind of roll my eyes like you do when someone who thinks they are awesome at something and continues to do it even though everything is contrary to that supposed awesomeness. I also have issues with people who write poetry. This isn’t his fault, this is my own fucked up thinking, but poetry to me is synonymous with disaffected youth drenched in black, white powder make-up, and lots of zippers. Go figure.

I give it 'cause I sense I'm being rather crabby this morning, and a for everything else above.

I also give it a because yellow is one fugly color. I hate it. Almost as much as I hate green and orange, and I'd rather stare at shit brown swirling in a toilet than yellow. Yuch!