Links

Links today:
Sex.
Life.
Drugs.
Coffee.
Humor.
Death.
Mother.
Chicken.
Games.
Happiness.
You.

Fame

It seems I'm too busy for my audience these days. I wanted to make this blog a daily thing but that isn't happening. I'm a stickler for consistency but I'm also busy so I guess I can't have it both ways.
My blip of a blog doesn't seem to be catching on like wild-fire as I once hoped. I must embellish a story about sex and drugs and see what happens. Here goes:

"Max Bastard was found dead, sitting on a toilet with an Elvis impersonater's penis in his mouth and an empty bottle of Vicodin in his hand."

-- Bryant Gumbel

Sensational enough? I hope so. So go ahead and send those letters of inquiry to the New York Post or the Miami Herald or whatever reputable news source you use. Feel free to add details of the death to the reporter. Was it a homicide or a suicide? Did I suffocate or was it an overdose? Who knows?! Have fun with it. If it works out and I get on the news some how, I might become a celebrity and then I'll wind up having to date Paris Hilton for the publicity... Ok well maybe I didn't think this through well enough. On second thought, I'd rather be a nobody.

The joker is dead. That is all.




I don't really care either way but I was wondering: "Don't you have to be talented to die young?" I didn't think heath was a particularly good actor (obviously), but it does make me think that times are changing. It used to be that you had to be good at something and then they would find you with a hole in your head the size of a grapefruit from a shotgun blast or over-dosed on enough heroin to to kill an elephant. It's kinda heartening actually. Maybe Frank Caliendo will finally kill himself like I asked him to.

Another wonderful day

Today, my friends, I am feeling joyful. Not for any reason. I just feel good. That translates to nothing in particular to write about. I only come up with something when I'm angry it seems. Or depressed. Sadly(?), that's not the case today. So again I have nothing to say. Congratulations to me. The blog has somehow survived 10 posts. I'm gonna have some cake and ice cream later. See you around.

Mentally winded

I just got my mental wind knocked out of me. It's an occurrence of something unexpected happening, leaving the brain unable to think of much else. I won't go into the details of what happened but rest assured that it was favorable.
Last night I had a silly dream. I'll tell you about it because I don't want to forget it. I dreamt that I was dating the late Tupac's daughter. Tupac, understandably, did not find this copacetic. It was known that he wanted to have words with me via his guns. A friend of mine decided he could talk Tupac out of killing me so we went to his house. About halfway through the conversation between us four, my "friend" leaves to go take care of something leaving a very unconvinced Tupac behind. I sat there with him and he made small talk as he brandished different weapons at me. Finally he came to the conclusion that he shouldn't kill me because his wife would be angry at him. The end. One interesting "fact" about this dream is that I knew what was going to happen if my friend was to talk to Tupac. It was like I was an actor in a movie I'd seen a couple of times and knew the ending of. The problem came when the friend left, changing the script around. We were supposed to walk in, he would talk to Mr. West coast and then I'd leave with my life. When that didn't happen, I was scared outta my wits within the dream.
That's all I have for you today, Kiddies. I'm sorry about my lame dream but I figured I'd share something with you. If everything works out with my "occurrence" I'll tell you about it. But don't hold your breath.

Who gives a rat's ass?

Welcome, joy seekers and naysayers, to another thrilling episode of America's rising sensation:

Who gives a rat's ass?

The show where the average citizen, like yourself, can win fabulous prizes by answering with the question "who gives a rat's ass?" I am your host, Max Bastard, and I wish you all good luck!
Ok! Let's get started:

1.Did you know that Barbie's measurements would be 39 - 23 - 33 in real life?

2.Did you know that all the clocks in the movie pulp fiction are stuck on 4:20?

3.Did you know that Coca Cola was originally green in color?

We've tabulated the scores and there is no clear winner. On to the lightning round!

Bonus-super-lighting-redlight-special-noholdsbarred-inyourface-omgwtfbbqsauce question:
46?

Aaaaaaaannd it seems we have run out of time. The winner of this show is clearly you, reader, for you are reading this blog. Enjoy your feeling of superiority over your fellow man for now knowing fun facts you might not have been able to bore someone else with before. As for me, who gives a rat's ass?

Bleh

So here we are again. You and I. It's cozy. I wanted to make it a point to write every day but I felt I had better things to do for a couple of days. It's not your fault, really. It's all me. Don't blame yourself. I've considered writing a serial of some sort just to flex my fictional writing muscles but that sounds like too much effort. I'd rather shoot the *Expletive Deleted* with you guys.
I don't rightly know what a blog is. The definitions are plentiful and equally crappy. This has evolved into a diary/ranting space and it's been OK so far. You're still here. That's all that matters. Unless you need insulin shots or a wheelchair. That matters more. But only by a little.
Recently I've been checking out crap on YouTube. Virals mostly. Stuff so dumb that your brain has to stop and say "WTF was that?! I've GOT to see it again!" until you can't get it out of your head. It's debilitating and a monumental waste of time but such is life.
I'm tired now so I'll leave you with some words before I go off to take a nap or something:

If you have nothing to say, make sure that what you do say is within block quotes. The chicks dig that.

Enjoy your day. But not too much or you'll spoil it.

Still here?

Ah! A new week! And you are still here. Great for you. I'm glad you survived your weekend unscathed. It's a good thing that an Internet scammer didn't steal your identity and started a bestiality porno website. It's a really good thing a prowler didn't crawl into your window to strangle you in your sleep. There apparently wasn't a shoot-out near your window or a hurricane that blew through your town. Bombs and disease have not sent you to meet your maker, either. All is well. Seemingly.
It's not that I'm optimistic. Any of those things could happen to you soon. Maybe all of them (and you get raped by an orangutan.) These things are highly likely at any given time.
Scared yet? No? Well that's too bad. I'm just trying to bring you back to reality today. If the idea of any of this did not cross your mind, I'm just here to remind you. Consider me your own Dr. Phil only I don't really try to help you at all. One could make the argument that neither does Dr. Phil but that's immaterial.
In any event today is Monday. Try not to die.

Inspirational message to people around the world

I hate my stupid brain. Yesterday I came up with a great concept for today's blog but the moment I woke up this morning, I forgot it completely. I couldn't tell you anything about it at all. And not to say that it would have been insightful or humorous but it certainly would have been more amusing then this veiled attempt to excuse my lack of creativity.
By now, if you've been paying attention, you might have gotten the idea that I am a master of self-deprecation. Nothing could be further from the truth. I can be extremely funny sometimes. I do this thing where I put a lampshade on my head and pop out at people as they exit the movie theater. It's a hoot. One time, I went to a comedy club to see what passes for comedy these days and the comedian on stage decided to joke on the audience. He poked fun at my date and I for looking like extras off a Lost shoot. I stared glibly at him while my date hid behind her tattered parka. Wait that wasn't me. Never mind that story.
I guess you could say that I have no real reason for this blog and you'd be right. I don't think I care that I have nothing to say but something about pressing keys on this keyboard makes me feel like I'm real important. This is more of an experiment of sorts. Am I trying to show my writing chops or a sad cry for help? You be the judge.
And now for an inspirational message to people around the world:

"Please share your art with others. It helps many through their artless days and gives critics something else to do besides watching dust settle."

That is all. Enjoy your weekend, ireadcrappyblogsinsteadofdoingsomethingworthwhileperson.

Doing the write thing

I listen to Opie and Anthony and if I've learned anything about being funny, it's that it is really random what people will like. Based on shows I've heard (and I've heard plenty), any caller can bomb completely and there are no indications that the hosts will find them funny. People that call in to be funny usually aren't and some that call in to refute something on the show on a serious note will become "Radio Gold".
On their talk show, they have callers commenting on anything from Jimmy Dean's Sausitches to "Dog" the bounty hunter to baseball players who take steroids.
Listening to lil' Jimmy Norton is usually the highlight of my day. That guy is filthy and hilarious on a daily basis. Even when he's bombing. Which is an impossible idea. Anthony is a gun-nut who can do voice impressions. Opie is an angry loudmouth host that ensures the show is entertaining every millisecond they are on the air. Great show for those who aren't PC and can take a joke.
I guess the obvious point is that, with these great influences, I still can't make something chuckle-worthy.So why am I talking about O and A? 2 reasons.
1. I can put their labels on my blog and get more hits.
2. Who cares. Leave me alone.
Maybe I'll put up a picture of a naked woman to grab whatever dregs troll through these blogs hoping for a peek at a nipple. Worth a shot and it gives them something to do with their other hand. And remember: The name of this blog is Inexperienced Hack. I'm nothing if not accurate.

Humpday

Today is, as we like to call in the workin' world, humpday. It doesn't mean that people are more apt to molest coworkers (well not any more then they would normally). It means that today is halfway through the week for the monday-friday, 9-5 crowd.
Humpday really isn't special. What you are reading now is the kind of drivel that most people are capable of on humpday. The average person can't come up with an original thought by the middle of their week. I myself have no real excuse for this drivel since I never have anything new to contribute to a conversation much less society.
An example:
Today I was talking to a coworker about something we spoke about for 5 minutes last week. After talking with him about the same subject for an additional 5 minutes today, there wasn't anything else for me to talk to him about. I could tell that I was expected to say something but I couldn't figure out anything to say. So I lit his shoes on fire and bolted for the door. Luckily the guy was understanding and didn't press charges.
Humpday is also about introspection. By this time during my work-week, I like to take a good, hard look at myself and wonder if my life is heading in the direction I want it to go in. This goes on for minutes at a time, even when I'm talking to others. Especially if it's someone telling me what to do. Mostly I just blank out for a while and let muscle memory get me through the day. It's difficult shining shoes.

My girlfriend is a robot

No really. And I don't mean it in the cutesy, affectionate way like someone who refers to thier loved one as "Chimpy Poo-box". I mean a real robot. She clicks in her sleep. "Clicks?" you might be asking. Yes. Clicks. Like a robot should. Also I think I saw something shiny recede into the back of her head at one point. Can't be sure. She needs a lot of sleep (I'm thinkin' robot batteries don't recharge quite as quickly unless you're plugged into a wall or something.)
About a month ago, she was working 90 hour work weeks. That's ridiculous. Wouldn't her servo units lock up without the proper oiling and coolant application? Maybe that's what she does when she says she needs to go "freshen up".
She plays video games like you or me. But unlike you or me, her fingers move way too fast for normal humans. I can't beat her at tetris attack. She's just too good. She actually picks her thumbs completely off the controller and then places it on the appropriate button. Eventually there won't be any games I can beat her at.
In any event, I'm fine with it I guess. It's not like I hate her or anything. I realize she's just a little different from you or me. For one thing she can't turn invisible like I can.

Starting anything sucks

So. This is my first blog ever. It's already an amazing experience. I doubt that I'll update this more then once. Or ever. But enjoy my lack of insight for the time being because life is short or whatever.
It's noon and I gotta go back to work soon but I figured I'd try this out. I want to jump on the bandwagon of all the other fools online at this time, posting crap that doesn't mean anything to anyone. I guess you can probably tell from my tone that I don't really like blogs but then you would be mistaken.
The problem is that most blogs I've read are at least 3 years old and written by high school kids that can't locate thier state on a map. Still I suppose everyone should get a chance to tell thier inane stories online at some point so here goes my own.
About me: Comedy. I realize that doesn't really say much, especially since there doesn't seem to be any comedic content so far but if I can be frank, comedy is not easy.
I suppose I should have thought up a clever first blog entry to entice others into listening to my rants but then I'd have to change the name of my blog and that's not gonna happen. In any event I hope that the last 3 minutes of time you wasted on this site pisses you off and you have to write a counter-blog about it. If nothing else i'm here to confirm your suspicions about why people suck. More later. Maybe.