There are many things lamentable about the digital age.  The loss of personal freedom, agitating relatives on Facebook, cars weaving on the highway while their drivers text angrily about the stupidity of the bachelor.  But lost in all this is the toll that is being taken on vampires.

Think about it.  In a world dominated by the Selfie, vampires are invisible.  Their destiny does not include making duck lips and doe eyes to the camera.  No vampire will ever be captured on YouTube smashing his testicles on a rail.  Can a vampire do a Ted Talk?  No.  A thousand times “No.”  It saddens me.  The vampire has been left behind, a reluctant Luddite lost in time.

Of course, vampires have the recourse of attacking the mavens of technology and draining the of their lifeblood.  But this is feeble succor (Pun Intended!  Hahahaha. When reading, imagine the Count.).  After all, even a legion of vampires could not stem the tide of technology.  They are like the Indian, the Aborigine, the West Virginian hillbilly.  Society cares nothing for their problems.  They are the marginalized, non-existent on the pages of Facebook and the images of Snapchat.

It gets worse.  Once, vampires were at the top of the monster Ziggurat, looking down with disdain at the other supernatural beings.  But, like the Romans of yore, the dynasty of vampires began to crumble.  And to whom did the vampires pass the mantle?  Zombies.  You talk about indignity.  Zombies have no style.  They cannot even talk (or barely).  In fact, one can make the argument that zombies are merely a crude derivative, fare for an increasingly unsophisticated public.

“Brains, brains,” utter the most verbal of these dirty creatures.  And then they take a chunk out of some girl.  Vulgar.  Certainly completely lacking in style and panache.  A vampire can turn into a bat or a wolf or ethereal mist.  A zombie drops body parts like a mute leper.

Even so, the zombie is the darling of television and cinema.  I’m sure the whole turn of events makes any self-respecting vampire question what is it all for.  Second fiddle to a moaning, cannibalistic ingrate?  What an indignity.  Yet these crude creatures can be seen on Instagram, grinning luridly as they munch on slow-footed crossing guard.  Vampires?  Merely a suspicious space, not even a shadow.

This is progress?  I think not.  But such are the vicissitudes of a technological age.  Nobody cares.

Well, Buffy does.  But she is a middle-aged woman with problems of her own.  I heard she has herpes.

But I can’t say for sure.

 

It is said that “a rose by any other name doth smell as sweet.”  I don’t know what clown said this, but the upshot is that names don’t matter.  This bit of conventional wisdom is complete and demonstrable bullshit.  For example, Hitler’s last name was almost Schicklgruber.  So, instead of “Heil, Hitler!!!”  it would have been “Heil, Schicklgruber?”  Thus ends demonstration.

The reason I bring this up is because we were watching the Olympics- the 100 meter dash to be exact.  If you are not familiar, the greatest sprinter in the world is a Jamaican named Usain Bolt.  This, of course, is a great name for the world’s fastest man.  It’s like the universe just knew he was going to be fast.  Otherwise, his name would have been Todd Schmidt.  I can’t say for sure that a man named Todd Schmidt couldn’t be the world’s fastest man.  But I can’t say for sure otherwise.  Anyway, one can assume that Usain’s parents were aware of his potential speediness.  And they already had the “Bolt” part taken care of.  So it was kind of like shooting fish in a barrel.

When people get into trouble is when they give a child a name that may not be so appropriate once that child grows to adulthood.  For example, I was at a gas station once where the attendant was named Thor.  Unfortunately, this Thor was about 5’7 and 140 pounds with a thinning mullet and a neck tattoo and one of those shitty mustaches that really isn’t a mustache but wants to be.  He also had a pronounced lisp.

“Heresch your change,” Thor said.  And the heavens did not shake.

“Thanks,” I said.  “Thor.”

Thor nodded and gave me a half smile.  His mouth was full of stunted, caramel colored teeth.  He had no hammer.

“You’re welcome,” he said and then scratched at his scrawny neck.  I wondered if he had stolen the name tag from some former employee- an employee with rippling muscles and long, flowing locks.  Carrying Mjolnor.

But no other Thor did I find.  I will bet money this Thor’s last name was Schicklgruber.

I will also bet money that Thor Schicklgruber has taken his fair share of abuse from other people.  Poor Thor.  I wonder if he has ever thought of changing his name.  And if he is married.  If so, I’ll bet his wife’s name is Shania.  Shania Shicklgruber.  Hey, that is alliterative!  Much like “Heil, Hitler”.

It’s a hell of a lot better name than North West.  What kind of idiot names a kid after a compass direction?  Yipes.

Anyway, if you’re reading this Thor, I don’t want you to think your name is a curse.  It isn’t.  More like a burden that you can do nothing about.  My only advice is to not name your child after yourself.  Thor 2.  Well, maybe.  Thor, Too.  Just trying it on for size.  After all, you have survived I suppose.  I suppose you could go with Mjolnir.  That way his name would always be mysterious because no one could pronounce it.

I’m just trying to help.  At least you know what to wear for Halloween, Thor.  Todd Schmidt has no idea at all.

And that is just sad.

Poor Thor, however, is a rhyme.  From the famous poem that begins , “Poor, Thor, shut the door, he had no money for a high class whore…”

And it just goes on from there.

The reason he had no money is because he works at a gas station in Stoddard, Wisconsin.

I was watching synchronized diving the other day when I noticed something interesting.  The divers wear very tiny swim trunks.  In fact, I was about six the last time I had underwear that small.  Frankly, I don’t see why they can’t wear something a little less revealing.  I mean, who wants to see that?  Straight women and gay men I suppose.  As I don’t fall into either of those categories, I find their sportswear is a distraction from the event.  (This is known as pretending to care about something you really don’t to make a statement about something else that really isn’t your business.  I learned it from Fox News.)

Speaking of Fox News, I hear they have a little sexual harassment issue.  Let me be the first to say that I am utterly shocked, given the network’s general tenor towards women.  At least we don’t have to see Roger Alies in a Speedo.  Thank the Spaghetti Monster for small favors.  The Spaghetti Monster is a compassionate god- unlike his pal Yahweh who thinks turning women into pillars of salt is an appropriate punishment.  There is probably a connection somewhere in this paragraph, but damned if I can figure it out.  Maybe I should pay more attention.  Being exposed to the barely covered junk of other men has me discombobulated.

Of course, women are often forced to wear skimpy outfits.  Beach volleyball, for example.  I also think their outfits are ridiculous.  Not as ridiculous as the synchronized divers, but close enough for me to consider myself a moral person in the matter.  And if I learned anything in life, it is that self-justification is the basis for good mental health.

After all, do you think that Jolly Roger thinks he did anything wrong by sexual harassing women for decades?  Absolutely not.  He was just complimenting them.  Just trying to be nice.

And get in their pants- an action that he may also have construed as a favor.  Spin, after all, is the lifeblood of the truly successful news program.

Speaking of spinning, it appears that Roger is fond of asking women to spin around for him.  He wants to test their balance, no doubt.

“Wheeeeeeeee!!!” he says as they spin, clapping his fat hands, his pink tongue lolling lasciviously from his mouth.  That’s leadership.  Pow. Pow. Pow.  I hoped you Lazy Libtards have learned something.  “Wheeeeeeeeeee!!!”

“You’ve been promoted!  Wheeeeeeeee!!!”

“You’re so hot.  You’re so effing hot.”  Ooops.  Wrong Fox personality.

Anyway, the Chinese won the synchronized diving with the Americans taking the Silver.  The Chinese were a sight to behold.  Two very fit men wearing the tiniest of Speedos, balls and penises clearly outlined, twirling gracefully through the air and entering the pool with a gentle splash.  The aesthetics of the spectacle is difficult to describe in print.

It is a damn shame that we will have to wait four more years to see it again.

 

You will be happy to know that a new “Miss Hitler” has been crowned.  It seems that a Neo-Nazi group in the UK runs a beauty pageant for aspiring fascists.  And you said fascists have no appreciation for aesthetics.  Interestingly, this Scottish gal has dark hair.  I would have assumed that one requirement for Miss Hitler would be to have blond hair (and blue eyes), but that is what happens when you make assumptions about Neo-Nazis.  They confound your prejudices.

The pageant was created in order to draw attention to the fact that there are Jew-hating women, too.  I had thought this was understood.  Especially given the liberal bias of the lame-stream media and their constant pushing of the feminist agenda.  Bastards.  What’s next?  Gay Neo-Nazis?  Well, probably not that.  Though you never know with Obama in charge.  He is probably a Neo-Nazi sympathizer.  I also heard he was born in Germany.  Stuttgart.  Why else do you think Germany has all of those Muslim immigrants?  Can’t wait until that guy is done and this country can get back on track again.

I wonder if Miss Hitler will note her accomplishment on a resume.  I mean, she did win.  This says something.  Of course, it might just say that there are a lot of ugly Neo-Nazi girls and she was just the pick of the litter of a bunch of runts.

Maybe she could just put that she is certified in “Cultural Differentiation Practices.”  That sounds pretty good.

Now that I think about it, there are a lot of groups who could use a beauty pageant.  Beauty pageants are as American as mom and apple pie (or some kind of pie).  Holding a  beauty pageant is a good way to show that your group, no matter how hateful or bizarre its platform, is full of people who are almost just like anyone else.

The KKK could have a Miss Wizard pageant.  In this pageant your evening wear must consist only of a white sheet.  That would be so hot.

Serial Killers could have a Miss Aileen Wuornos pageant.  Unlike other pageants, the goal of this pageant would be to be as ugly and as crazy looking as possible.  After all, ugly and crazy girls never get to be in a pageant.  And the winner could kill one of the judges.  Except we wouldn’t let the judges in on that little tidbit.  It would ruin the surprise.  (By “we,” I mean serial killers.  Not me, of course.)

Imagine a beauty pageant held by the NRA.  You talk about a phallic phestival of epic proportions.  It would be a Freudian rampage.  “Your Second Amendment Never Looked Like This.”  Donald Trump could be the host.  I can see him singing to the winner now.

And the winner is holding her AR-15 and a bouquet of shells while a montage of the Founding Fathers is broadcast on the screen behind her.  Throw Clint Eastwood into the montage as well.  And Charlton Heston (dressed as Ben Hur, preferably).

I am holding back the tears just thinking about it.  God bless America.  Pow Pow Pow.

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