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June 14, 2006


Marty Sherman Gets Real

As I’m standing here watching my frozen dinner defrost in the microwave I can’t help thinking about some of the amazing advances in household technology.

I still can’t figure out how these things work. It’s like an E-Z Bake Oven or something. The light comes on and ten minutes later you’ve got hot food.


But computers? I can’t fucking stand them.

I hate, and I do mean HATE, turning the bastards on in the morning. The fucking white noise hum shit that goes with it. The noise they make when "updates are available". The warning beep when I do something that I’m not supposed to do.

Computers suck. Did I mention that I hate them? I fucking hate them.

Hang on a sec. My microwave is done defrosting and the motherfucker keeps beeping if I don’t push the ‘END’ button. And I mean keeps motherfucking beeping until you want to just rip the thing off the wall and throw it right through the motherfucking kitchen window!

Beep. Beep. Beep....Beep. Beep. Beep....Beep. Beep. Beep....Beep. Beep. Beep.

I can’t fucking stand it. Just beep once, alright? I know it’s DONE, for Christ’s sake!

Anyway...computers. THEY SUCK! Email, internet, fast connections, dial-up, spam, spam-blockers, html, viruses, spyware, blogs...MOTHERFUCKING BLOGS!

Couldn’t the world live without fucking blogs? I know I could. I’m sick-to-death tired of the fucking made-up words, the constantly changing new vocabulary that we need to get by on this god-forsaken ball of shit.

Shhhh, listen...Hallelujah! No more microwave fucking beeps.

I guess that means my tamales are ready, but I’m going to have to smoke way more pot and drink many more beers before I’m able to choke that shit down. God only knows where the stuff came from that’s inside those fucking tamales. For all I know it’s scraped off the shoes of the rednecks who work at the fucking Swanson’s factory.

I’ll bet dollars to goddamn doughnuts that cocksucker George W. Motherfucking Bush isn’t eating a goddamn frozen dinner right now. Motherfucking bastard.

Probably eating fois-gras and drinking fucking champagne! The son of a bitch.

And I’ll bet he never has to touch a fucking keyboard or mouse. Mouse? It used to be a tiny animal. Not any more, my friends. Not any more.

Double click THIS, asshole!

Where was I? Oh, yeah. Computers.

This Dell piece of shit I have has barely functioned since I bought it a year and a half ago. And you know what they tell me? I’ll need another one by next year anyway because this one will be hopelessly out of date. Every three years I’ll need a new one, just to keep up with the newest fastest shit there is and be able to run the latest operating system, etc., blahblahblahfuckingblah...

Well, you know what? I’m about damn good and ready to check out of this technological nightmare. That’s right. You heard it here first. Marty Fucking Sherman is about to go back to his roots.

I’m bringing back pencil on paper, baby. I’m dusting off my 1929 Underwood with the faulty backspace key.


Hand me the fucking white-out and get out of my goddamn way! ... (MARTY SHERMAN)

A.) I think he’s finally gone over the edge.
B.) I hope he realizes he’ll have to scan all his stuff into a computer so we can use it.
C.) Microwave popcorn is the shiznitz, my nizzle. Extra butter, please.


Anger issues? Actually, this was a pretty interesting read, you kept me wondering WTF else is wrong on this floating ball of shit (as you so eloquently put it)!
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