It's Out There Now, Lurking Like a Big Hairy Rapist at a Coach Station.

I've never been political.  Sure, I feel strongly about certain issues, vote with my fists and fight people when they disagree with me, but that's just who I am by nature.  Really has nothing to do with politics.  Okay, well, so by strict definition you could say my life is only politics, just outside the realm of Big-G-Government.  Modern political discourse gives me fucking indigestion.  Some dumbfuck mentions Glenn Beck or Michael Moore and I need wintergreen Pepto-Bismol with a burning, clenched Pavlovian fervor - seriously, right now anyone who glances my way probably thinks I haven't shat in a week. 

Still, I'm reviewing the blog of a twenty-year old, bright, impassioned British boy who plays for the conservatives.  Being a self-absorbed American with no party affiliation and a limited exposure to British politics that includes getting hammered and watching a shit-ton of C-Span 3 archived House of Commons videos in 2001 and salivating over Malcolm Tucker insults from In the Loop, I figured I'm about as qualified to review Richard's blog as anyone else.


Like I said, Richard is bright. At the wee age of twenty, he easily understands more about politics than the last American President, littered with the proper astringentositinessery of defensive youth (I make up words).  He recently chose to forego university, a decision I fully support (I hate that college is becoming a requirement instead of a compliment) but he seems to be bitter as fuck about it.

In fact, that's really the only thing I like about him:  it's hilariously frustrating watching him temper with rationality while he's obviously whipping his personal rage into submission and trying to squeeze it out into logic, but that fury seeps into the cracks and we know, we can tell, this Type A boy is fucking struggling to be a sensible, model citizen. 

Richard, you fucking puritan:  chill out.  Take a deep breath.  Go get yourself into some good, clean mischief, because boy, you are wound tight.  Are you this serious about everything you do? You're even serious about Doctor Who and World of Warcraft.  Take a lesson from Tenant's incarnation:  life, like time, is like a big ball of wibbly-wobbly-timey-wimey-stuff.  Nothing is certain, progress is never linear, and retaining your humanity does not mean rein in, repress, and repeat, it means allowing yourself to feel all the colors on the spectrum with zeal and triumphing out of the sheer love of existence and a fascination with and mad respect for the world that allows you to exist in the first place.

You are an intelligent, passionate boy and your blog is informative and formal and I feel like you're choking the life out of your writing when you should be choking the life out of your dick.  I think this blog is important to you and you want to keep it professional.  That's fine.  But you're fucking twenty years old and this is boring as shit.  You're a "good writer."  But all that means is you're grammatically accurate and have average-to-above average word choice.  You aren't afraid to tell us your opinion, but you're afraid to put yourself into it.  Maybe you're going for textbook, informative opinion pieces and that's fine.  If that's what you're going for.  It's...you know.  Fine. It's not for me.

But here's what I want you to do. 

1.  Start anonymous blog.
2.  Go to video store that has porn.
3.  Rent some porn.
4.  Overcome your shame of facing the clerk.  
5.  Pay for porn in all small coins. 
6.  Go home.
7.  Watch porn.
8.  Jack off.
9.  Review porn on new blog.