User Comment Rodeo: Lazier and Funnier than Ever!

Hey readers, you're probably quite excited that the UCR hasn't been lost or destroyed in a fire yet, right? Oh, you aren't... well it's back. 2014 has probably been a great year for stupid user comments, but we're going to find out. Okay, well, here's a bunch of great user commentary, bitching, and the occasional gem - dug up in the most unhealthy way possible.

 

Highly potent stuff. Hahahahaha. I can definitely see why the UCR 3000 or whatever picked this up. Great shit. Hahha. Not a waste of twenty thousand dollars.

Ahahaha holy shit somebody got owned [for teh internet savvy browsers: 'pwned'] pretty hard in the comment section that day... goddamn that's some serious incest.

Damn look at this guy who can see through the facade of lowered violent crime rates and other liberal mumbo-jumbo hexapentatonic voodoo to the truth: ancient biblical cities that were destroyed for lawlessness and immorality are essentially the same as the modern United States. Obozo, good shit dude... betcha didn't come up with something that good yourself.

Hell yeah that's got me spinning in the chair, spitting out my tea/coffee/beer, and laughing all the way to the bank!

In twelve years the above user commentary will be cited in a study conclusively proving that video games promote mental illness on a level at least equivalent to marginalization, drug use, or genetics. I don't know what the hell is going on, but people live like that... imagine their internal monologues and all the stupid shit they get excited about... mental illnesses and neurological problems... seriously hilarious shit.

 

Climate science is the lowest target besides almost everything else an unthinking buffoon commentates on. Let's see what might or might not happen (much like we as a species do with earth and climate science).

You see? Hippie shit.

Oh, and highly reasonable responses that lead one to question why the commentator is wasting potential arguing with people in the user comment section. Why not go to school? Or use your time responsibly... maybe these saints have bigger plans than any of us know, and don't mind getting mired in incredibly stupid and wasteful arguments with hardened skeptics. Maybe they don't even get hopeless or angry or wracked by belly laughs when they engage the user comment sections of the internet... and there's a lot of those.

"I'm Amateur Poet Ross Heffi, and I Love Reading!"

[Note: Due to problems with contracting an actual poet to write this entire post in hexameter, this blog post has been delayed and in development hell for nearly six months. the author presents it as is and refuses to accept any liability whatever for this piece, which is offered on a pro bono basis, or any derivatives thereof. This piece is fictional and is not meant to disparage any lazy and  numbskull idiots (hereafter referred to as 'poets')  living or dead, nor does it purport to represent any veritable person, as a work of fiction is not libelous or slanderous. The poetry and prose herein is the intelluctual property of Ross Heffi, M.F.A. and should not be reproduced in any way.]


Hey everyone, glad you're reading words my fingers put into the computer realm, my name is Ross Heffi, I currently live in Ithaca, New York, and my darkest secret is that if reading as a concept and practice was made corporeal in the form of a human, I would marry it. or, failing that, stalk it relentlessly and passionately. My favorite medium is Poetry, because Poetry allows me to expound in an unusual manner, offering many possibilities that prose doesn't. My favorite poet is Wallace Stevens, for reasons that should be obvious to even neophytes of Art. I don't ape him because I'm not a fool, and know that I could never match him in his element.

Reading is, to me, the highest and most noble pastime. The illiterate and semi-literate confuse and sadden me. I believe I was born in the wrong era, and I must tearfully admit I consider this an age of philistinery. These are lurid times, when the flashy draw hooks many minds and leads them to ruin, to ignorance, and to laziness. Without thoughts, wise men, and the dreams of peaceful minds, the world will be robbed of promise and hatred will continue to spread. Wealth will turn to ash without us, and our voices are still strong, still awaiting the return of the audience.

My favorite poem (of my own making) 'Destiny's Argot'  concerns a man whose fear for the world drives him mad, and into the arms of the muses (as well as other mysterious forces) and nearly eighty high quality lines (probably the best work I ever succeeded in doing) detail his altered state and journey through a supermarket/drug store, and interactions with shoppers. If you, the reader, are interested in Ross Heffi, or simply adore poetic endeavor, I would recommend reading 'Destiny's Argot' which is available on a trial basis from Wattpad, and also on Goodreads, where you can add me as a friend. You may be inspired to make a purchase of my first and only collection Hell is Pieces of my Heart on Hot Asphalt (digital and paper copies available), for which I would be very, but not eternally (I do not believe the immortal soul), grateful.

@HeffiTymes. Ross Heffi is on Tumblr, as well, serving fresh, daily compositions ,and accepting commissions. Yeah that just happened, my dear reader, and many more adventures await and I will give it my all to produce and curate some of the best poetry of this era, comparable perhaps to the masters of old, and the ancient demigods of poetry, the most learned and exquisite and legendary figures. Of Sappho and Homer you have doubtless heard much, but there are others I can name, which you probably could not. In any case, my list of most admired poets is too long and probably too confusing to list here, so I do invoke the ancients and humbly request they invoke the Muses for me. This latest poem is entitled 'Forever is a Distant Laughing Brook' and is dedicated to the unpopular and much disliked blog P u b l i c a t o and was written at the request of Anonynimous Bosch for a reasonable fee, which is charged for most commissions except at the request of true lovers, lost souls, dedicated fans, certain members of the media, and under-14 poetry fanatics.

The End Times are Ever-Present

The alarmists have always been wrong about this one, but if you read Revelations correctly and ignore the hallucinogenic business of the end of time, you'll notice that in alluding to wars and rumors of wars, pestilence, famine, and intense interfamilial disrespect it is basically telling the reader to keep eyes peeled, because then as now those four things are raging. So the world is always about to end, which makes heartening sense anyway, since nobody knows if we're going to be enslaved by hyper-advanced space aliens or vaporized by a rogue solar flare or ninja quasar.

What could be worse than the end of the world? How about the sufferings, frustrations, and injustices of the world continuing to exist? That's a pretty rough deal, but I guess something is better than nothing, and let's face it: the world is definitely a happening place full of things. So there's nothing worse than the end of the world, since what the end of the world really means in its lazy modern usage is the end of humanity, the cessation of civilization as we know it. Few people use it to describe a cataclysm that destroys the earth. Doomsday is the last day of routine in which the adaptive abilities of all animals are tested, and because of natural tenacity, some life will probably escape it, get thrown into Titan or another watery moon and come back in a twisted form in a couple billion years.

There is only the anthropological doomsday, really, in the popular imagination. For many, perhaps rightfully so, there is nothing after our extinction. It's a purely hypothetical question not really worth thinking about. For some it is a most interesting topic. Lots of good literature about it, or inspired by its idea, and a good deal of nonfiction that asks the question. In a couple of years there will probably be a cross-discipline course offered about post-human topics and lots of people will take it and imagine it to be worthwhile... I'll probably enroll in it for kicks if I'm going to have the time. I want to know the secrets of the future, I want to call myself an expert and get on TV and give out a few useless answers to basic questions and make sure to tweet about the appearance.

It doesn't take an expert to realize that, statistically speaking, this very minute in which I am hastily writing is the end time for at least one hundred people across the world, having died at this point, and in the next minute it will happen again. It's the relativity of doom, a sort of morbid relativity that nobody can really stand to think about for any length of time, or even imagine. The end times roll on, and the alarmists keep selling the long con where we explode the world or destroy the universe, because we're definitely capable of that. There is a true and verifiable process of slow self-destruction in effect that gets ignored every time someone sells the story that we are all fifty years away from horrible hunger, violence, or pathogen-related deaths. Most likely we will slowly sink beneath the waves of genetic drift a couple thousand years after peaking, and some upstart group of rebellious aliens will stomp the lot of us into the dirt before making the same mistakes after translating and slowly accepting our extinct but futuristic hyper-metaculture. (Note to filmmakers and authors: portrayed obviously as some kind of cool and sneaky download scene like in Independence Day).

Anyway I am pretty certain a world-shaking even won't end my lifetime. I am more worried about my personal end-time which fate has set, hopefully in the future, but one can never rule out terrible and humorously dark luck, like getting shot by a cop due to hilarious misidentification, or falling in love with death disguised as a beautiful and warm paramour, or adopting a haunted dog, or getting a crippling affliction by smoking cigarettes, or choking on a delicious and highly expensive meal at the peak of your life after getting signed for a three-book multi-million dollar contract with a highly esteemed publisher. Drug overdose (can be funny), suicide (heheh), or vehicular manslaughter. Gun shit,. Death by bareknuckle brawling wild animals no smaller than one hundred pounds. Frozen on a supposedly 'tropical' vacation. Possession by depressed spirits. Inexplicable combustion. Hate crimed to death on a Friday night!