Posts Tagged ‘irony’

30
Jan
21:45

Get Off My Lawn & Start Making Sense

Or: Get Off My Lawn & Start Making Sense – My Guide For Fruitful Internet Discussion

Start with the assumption that you, dear reader, are nothing but a mere lost soul in a great ocean of successful people and that the only light at the end of any tunnel is the crack under the door from your basement where you live to your parents’ house. Feeling trodden down yet? No, OK, I didn’t mean it quite that way. Lots of people are talking about things nobody cares about, not even their friends. For instance how this twitter search actually comes up with results – not only that, results keep being discharged by the collective rectum of the internet.
The point I’m trying to get across is that you are nothing. Nobody cares about you. The internet is full of drivel as it is, and nobody wants to talk to you unless they:

  1. Want to feel better about themselves by smearing you
  2. Want to have sex with you
  3. Feel they have an overwhelming duty that they must carry out by talking to you

Wanting to avoid 1, and probably 2 (or just not being the object of number 2) there’s still number 3. There’s always a plan B… or C.

You may ask yourself, how come I don’t have such frequent debates with (most) people around me in the same way I do with the internet personalities that surround me? Could they all be internet superheroes? Of course not – the answer is simple: You can’t punch people on the internet.

I suppose protection from physical harm is what leads to these cans of worms be readily available for quick opening. So considering the alternatives, it’s a no-brainer. All gain for no risk and no cost, other than your reputation, sanity and oh look – a slippery slope. It’s the get rich quick scheme of attention (negative and otherwise), which leads me to my first lesson, maybe inspired by Colbert’s tips for a healthy marriage:

1. A smart poster knows how to post with at least some tact

But you know that one guy who religiously defends something, who stubbornly shoves it down your throat and feeds it to you on every damn occasion they get. Sometimes more gracefully than other times.

I, too, know a few people like that. First, an immigrant co-worker who (somewhat ironically) hates Arabs and finds annoying ways to say it sometimes and brings in a wide array of manners to express his right-wing views. Second, my cousin who is a staunch communist and would never miss an opportunity to tell us over family dinner how the government caused the recession on purpose, that phone manufacturers insert flaws into their devices on purpose. They’ll get… very emotional when anything opposes their extreme views. They don’t have that “poster tact” and won’t hesitate to get into a very heated discussion with you to defend their ideas.

Those exist in all walks of life, on the ‘nets as well. So, here, have another tip:

2. A smart poster knows to pick their battles

And what about when you have to? A sense of duty exists in us all, and I wouldn’t bother denying it personally (neither should you). We all have a soft spot in us when somebody mentions that one thing that ticks us off:

3. A smart poster has a second account/handle/username they can use to be everything I said they shouldn’t be without any risk

I guess the internet is a place full of cruel ironies.

22
Feb
11:23

Not Ready for the Snow

So here we are in late February, and it starts snowing like a bitch.

Denmark, being in northern Europe, having a month or two of clear weather every year, unless there’s a rainy summer.

At any rate, it’s snowing, quite a bit, but not like a whole meter of snow, oh no, it’s snowing alright, but then again, Denmark should in theory be ready for the snow.

But guess what. No trains, no busses, children are advised not to go to school, the roads are all full of ice. Kinda like last year.

08
Jan
12:56

Wrong Number

It’s always entertaining to see what happens when people get the wrong number. Every time a new adventure – one time you’d be pranking them, sometimes you might receive a drunk call from someone you don’t know, you name it. Anyway, it’s quite neat.

For instance, one time the answering machine picked up some message, quite sad as a matter of fact, of some girl almost breaking into tears telling the answering machine about something, which sounded as if she got stood up or something by some guy (grammar gave it away.) didn’t move me really, she wasn’t all that coherent, but the “acting” was good, certainly.

And then there’s this one time somebody called to find out the prices of different types of blocks, “combining blocks” or whatever he called them. So we had a conversation about blocks all the while I pretended to be this company in the block-business. Fun. I learned a lot about different types and colors of blocks, helpful stuff.

Oh, at some point somebody (whom I did not know at all) managed to find my answering machine’s password (must have left it on the default?) and recorded the same message, only in their own voice. Retarded if you ask me. So I had to signal them that I knew this was happening all the time, and so I said something like “and fuck the asshole who changes this message.” At that day, my aunt called and failed to pick up the phone. We never spoke about that incident later.

And then there’s those “wrong number calls” (or messages) that put some sort of hope in you. And so it happened that at around 2:00 am last Saturday, just as I was brushing my teeth, I felt the vibration of the phone in my pocket. On-off-on, on-off-on, seems like a message.

I took the phone out of my pocket, with the hand that wasn’t busy with the toothbrush, and looked at the message. Curious text: “Love you…”

I checked the number, +46, a Swedish number. The number ended in 19. So I sat down and made a list of people I know with Swedish numbers, crossed out the ones that didn’t have my number, or where not likely to ask for it, or that didn’t have who to ask it from and stayed with just one person. I will use a pseudonym to hide that person’s identity. Kizuki.

It made no sense, for one, Kizuki was male. That is not to say that I would find it problematic, no, it was the fact that he was straight that stuck me peculiar. And then also there was the fact that he in Japan for the holiday as far as I knew. He could have gotten my number, had he wanted it. No, it wasn’t him, that wasn’t his number.

It could have been Moruku, but he doesn’t actually know my number, I don’t recall giving it to him at least. No, not him either.

I could have left it at that, but seriously, would I? Of course not!
So I turned the nearest computer on, and started sniffing around Eniro.se. Apparently reverse lookups were not a problem in Sweden, but since I wasn’t familiar with the Swedish phone system, it took me a while to realize that 57 was in fact 057.

It all boiled down to some Swedish dude named Kai. I didn’t know anyone by that name, nor did I know anyone who lived in the outskirts of Sweden really, not in that remote a location anyway.

So then I decided, he just got the wrong number. Such a shame.