Negative Thinking For Idiots
The second my girlfriend handed me a copy of a Blue Mountain book about Positive Thinking, I knew I had it–The crushing validation that I, Mike Villar, Rising Internet Star, am the world’s biggest pessimist.
I know that my girlfriend has nothing but good intentions in wanting me to think more positively and frankly, I am all for changing for the better.
But while that’s true, I see no real pragmatic reason to become a frivolous, young optimist. I mean come on, how fun can that be? All those optimists do is to anticipate that everything is going to end up fine peachy in situations where normal people (and negative thinkers like myself) would have no choice but to embrace the staggering truth that life is transient, happiness is an illusion and we are born for only one purpose: To die.
Anyway, before I cross over to a world where musical little bunnies follow me where ever I go and colorful flowers sprout where ever I tread; I want to make sure that I pass the torch to a new batch of people who’re going to keep it real. A batch of people who will believe only one immutable truth: and that is the world is nothing but a savage joke played by a negligent, chortling God and no matter how good this life gets, it’s nothing but a grim preview of the burning, eternal hell that awaits us in the afterlife.
In order for me to succeed in this endeavor, I have created a guide that differentiates the reactions to everyday scenarios of a positive thinker from that of a negative thinker. Remember, it is important that you learn how to think negatively as soon as possible. After all, every day you spend in this forlorn Earth is like another step you take towards your inevitable doom.
The Picking Up Women Series: STARBUCKS
Is your life a hellish vacuum? Are the milestones of your charmless, inhospitable existence limited only to mentally distressed nocturnal screams of heartache? Is your longing for female companionship so desperate that even cockroaches are creeped out by your excessive emotional obsession to finding a partner and proceed to call you “pervfuck” while you sleep?
Well fret not, because I am here to give you more useless tips to help you claw your way out of your terrible hellscape of depression!
“But Mikey!” You might say in your annoying, high-pitched voice, “You and your colleagues have already written a lot about picking up women! And I go to Nepa Q-Mart about once a month to buy vegetables and yet I can’t seem to pick up women!”
Well my friend, SHUTUP YOUR FACE! SHUTUP YOUR FACE AND LISTEN! because I am going to show you how to pick up women in a really popular dating hotspot! And by ‘hotspot’ I don’t mean that weird tropical STD I contracted in the summer of 97 but rather…
BeerCast: Ang Show na Walang Katulad
What happens when you put 5 cases of San Miguel Beer, a group of alcoholic bloggers and a microphone together?
Well:
- A lot of cussing.
- A lot of racist jokes.
- A lot of dicking around.
- Bim, having an emotional breakdown as he regales others with stories of his childhood replete with sexual abuse and incest.
- Some asshole double-fisting drinks all night and eventually throwing up and passing out on the cold bathroom floor.
Seriously though, I had a blast recording this podcast and I hope we can do more of this in the future. Special thanks to San Miguel Beer for sponsoring the event; Jayvee Fernandez for making all of this possible, Lauren and Noemi Dado for letting us destroy their house, eat all their food and steal one of their figurines (Okay I did it. I’ll return it, I swear. Jeez.); and to everyone else who were part of the podcast, the show wouldn’t be half as fun without you guys.
How to be an Internet Elitist
Although I cannot claim to be a pioneer of what we call today as “The Internet Culture;” I’ve been online long enough to have a fairly good understanding of what internet denizens are like. I vaguely remember going online just to download Alicia Silverstone pictures on a 14.4 KBPS connection or logging in to ICQ to ask one of my pre-med classmates to scan his notes for me and have them “DCC’ed” to me–A process which takes something like 4 hours.
I can’t claim to have sent plain text emails on a super computer that runs on vacuum tubes, there were internet pioneers who stretch farther into the past than I did. But one of the things that these pioneers and myself share is being able to witness a time when “internet culture” was a homogeneous thing–a badge we wear proudly.
The internet of 2007 is a long tail of thousands upon thousands of archetypes. Since I do not have sufficient time nor willpower to describe each and every one of them, let me provide you with keen insight into my favorite one: The Internet Elitist.
If you yourself are an internet elitist, please realize that I’m not making fun of you specifically. I’m just making fun of you in general. You know, because you’re a douchebag.
An Open Letter of Apology to the Cast and Crew of Desperate Housewives
Dear cast and crew of Desperate Housewives,
TV shows come and go. Every so often, there comes a point when the life of a television series starts to flicker and grow dim. Worse, there is always a putrid uncertainty that comes with wondering if our favorite TV shows will even return as networks, with an insensitive and cruel disregard, toy with our emotions with executives waiting until the last minute to decide which shows live on and which shows drop from the lineup to their certain deaths.
Your show, Desperate Housewives, was one of the shows I wished death upon after its first season. And can you blame me? The inexplicably retarded storytelling, random betrayals and suicidally poignant interpersonal drama, as well as all the twists, turns, flips, flops and flops that happened midway through the 2nd season made the show really painful to watch. A pain which is, perhaps, worse than losing a loved one. Maybe even two loved ones in a bizarre hotel fire.
But still, I continued to watch. And I did so only because of Teri Hatcher and Eva Fucking Longoria.
There was actually a time when I was so obsessed with Teri and Eva that had either one of them asked me to quit my job, I would’ve said “done”; That had either one of them asked me to renounce my fleshly ways and dedicate my life to reading the bible, I would’ve said “done”; that had either of them asked me to embrace people from all walks of life and cultures and maybe give up sweets, I would’ve said “not until you give me a blowjob.” You get the point.
I was pretty smitten; so when I first heard about what many claimed to be a sweeping, insulting remark about medical schools in the Philippines made by Teri Hatcher’s character in one episode, I remained relatively indifferent to the issue.
-
The Star
Mike "Fucking" Villar
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"The personal blog of Marketing Strategist, Rising Internet Star, Man Blog editor, child pornographer, alcoholic, and cokehead-- Douchebag Jones--Err, Mike Villar!
