>>> Primal Urges
By staff writer Nathan DeGraaf
May 31, 2006
Nathan: That couple is arguing really loud. Amy: Yeah, I think one girl thinks the other girl is trying to steal her man.
Nathan: Why do they keep saying “MySpace” over and over again?
Amy: It’s the cause of a lot of jealousy in relationships.
Nathan: The internet is weird.
Amy: Yeah, I think one girl thinks the other girl is trying to steal her man.
This column represents the end of my first full year of writing for Points in Case. Much to the dismay of many of you out there, I haven’t missed a deadline yet. I have learned a lot about the internet and what it stands for over the course of these last 52 weeks, and because this is my column and I’m feeling lazy, I’m gonna share those gems of wisdom with you.
The internet is weird. How weird, you ask? Did you know that more than half of the emails I receive are people asking me for love advice? Read that sentence again. Okay, now I’m gonna type it again for dramatic effect. Over half the emails I get are people asking for love advice. That’s like asking the DC Area Snipers how to shoot a gun. Sure, they can tell you, but are they really the right people for the job?
The internet is so weird, in fact, that I have developed internet friends. These are people that you meet over the internet and end up talking to and eventually meeting. I went tailgating to five USF football games with one of my internet friends. One of them was nice enough to stand in line for a few hours and then mail me an autographed copy of a novel that I wanted. Hell, one of them even offered me a job. They’re all good people and I’m glad I know them, but well, it’s just kind of a weird way to meet someone is all.
I’ve had death threats. These are the best. Anyone who wants to kill me for anything I’ve ever written here needs help. You wonder why free speech gets challenged so much in this country? It’s because dipshits like that are allowed to breathe.
I tracked down a guy who stole Court Sullivan’s AIM account. Picture this. I went my entire life without having an AIM account, then I have one for two weeks, and some bastard is IMing me under Court’s name and it’s not fucking Court. I was so pissed off, I was ready to fly to Texas and kick this kid’s ass.
And then there’s the whole Steve Hill thing. I mean, what the fuck? The man stole from every male PIC writer to impress roughly twenty people. That’s the definition of weird, right there. (And Stevie, if you’re reading this: we know where you live.)
Yup, there’s no getting around it. The internet is like some money-making version of pirate radio, like a meeting place for random letters thrown into the wind, like, well, like nothing else my pea-brain can think of.
Over the last year, I’ve worked very closely with PIC writers I’ve never met, I’ve drank heavily with those I have met, and I even received a gift of toilet paper from PIC owner Court Sullivan. I’ve made bonds that I’m not sure exist, I’ve made friends that I’ve never seen, and I’ve made it one full year without being killed. Yes, it’s been a long and weary, weird road that I’ve walked down in my first year as a PIC columnist.
Here’s hoping the second year is twice as weird.