For those of you who don’t know, I was originally given the “green light” on PIC blogging back in early August. With Court in NYC, I couldn’t get things off the ground until after I ended up evacuating. The point: five-weeks later isn’t so late after all. The following is that original article with an italicized addendum dedicated to a “special” PIC blogger.

As a young man I learned that you can’t please everyone all the time. As a collegiate I learned that you can’t please every woman unless you have the right equipment – HDTV, H2, VIP status, a personal coke-dealer, etc. Oh, and it also helps sometimes if you have a big penis and/or a big heart…though I can say one works more often than the other. Truth be told, I doubt that I’ll ever please everyone – and that’s just why I simply won’t ever try to here. I’m going to make like every 14-year-old “pants astronaut” and explore the realm of pleasing myself. The difference is that this time, you’re all invited to watch. It’s not so awkward anymore, Grandma.

So, though I’m sure certain aspects of my life are arguably interesting, I’d rather go straight into who I am and why this blog may be worthy revisiting. Truth is, no one can determine what blend of intrigue or boredom will lead you back to my musings – but that’s just what makes this blog all the more appealing. You may laugh. You may cry. You may excuse yourself to use the restroom at any time. Whatever the issue, I’d like to say that this blog is a means for readers to have their thoughts explored by an unlicensed unprofessional humorist. I’ve got the tools to tend both your wit-related and philosophical queries as well as the experience in blending humor (two parts insight per four parts Maker’s Mark). Like any column writer, I expect critics. In fact, I openly welcome your thoughts as well. I just hope that I respond in-kind and as appropriate. I may offer a different perspective than the rest of the blogroll, but there’s obviously a lot of common ground between people and humor. Okay, enough with the sentimentality. Let's see what's on my mind.

I watch MTV – but not because I’m a brain-washed pop-culture whore – It has a different meaning to me. MTV is much like a bowl of frosted Mini-Wheats: it has appeal for both the child and the adult in me. For the child in me – my chemically imbalanced, hormone-driven, high school girl-stalker mentality finds joy in the disproportionate balances of breasts and brainpower required to get on the network. For the adult in me – I find some shows have a certain “car-wreck-in-slow-motion” motif: I can’t seem to take my eyes off the horror. So, barring the above, I can’t stand the network. Like hell I’ll tune in just to ascertain what’s “cool.” Getting your opinions from MTV is like taking the short bus to school – sure, you and the other kids don’t mind, but that’s because you’re all retarded. Sorry, that was a bit harsh. Or maybe you’re just “special.” That reminds me of another peeve to address.

Remember the goth “craze” of …well, I don’t exactly care when. I tried to ignore that entire epidemic. Point is that they were “special” too. Luckily, for the sake of existence, goth-ism is terminal…or should be. Their entire brooding existence is entirely inefficient: pain is life, death is release. For the love of irony all I asked was that they freed themselves! With so many ways to die, goth-ism should strictly describe the period between discovering you sucked at life and the moment you did your part to reduce overpopulation. So, here’s some advice for all the former Goths and brooding emo-kids who didn’t get the memo that, like trance/techno, it’s over:

“Everything in life, happens for a reason – except your birth. Total fluke. Unwarranted, unwanted, and unfortunate as it may be: here you are. So, ‘man-the-fuck up’ and have another drink, you attention-whoring pansies.”

My grudge against Goths isn’t something personal against their pop-culture genre – it’s actually just a grudge against their defeatist view of reality. Goths just happen to stand out as the whiniest of societies discontents – well, until LiveJournal was invented. My gripe is this – we all have shit to deal with and we’d all the same deal better if we didn’t have to hear others bitching or brooding about how bad existence is. This just in: We’ve ALL gotten the memo. Here’s one for you: If life is so bad, just step outside and feel the warmth of the sun. Embrace a midday breeze and plant a tree. In 40 years if you’re still alive and upset about existence, at least you’ll have a place to hang yourself or a maybe a spot for a bird feeder. See, when I think people should fuck off, I like there to be options.