Are you a Facebook comedian?

If there is anything that Facebook has accomplished since its inception several years ago, it’s that it has exposed us to parts of people’s personalities that we never would have known about otherwise.

I’m sure everybody has Facebook friends whom they had previously thought of as shy, but suddenly, Facebook comes along, and now they are posting Facebook statuses six times a day. Your first thought was probably, “Where the hell did that come from?” But at this point, you’ve become accustomed to their constant drivel.

However, Facebook has opened up other avenues other than allowing shy people to suddenly become outgoing. Now you are beginning to see that some of your friends are actually comedians.

Of course I say that sarcastically. The old joke “What are you? A comedian?” derives when a person starts ripping off jokes out of nowhere, and you make that statement in jest.

Only about 1% of our population is funny. Everyone likes to think that they are capable of making people laugh, but to do that on a regular basis is almost impossible. There is a reason why only like three comedians in the world are household names. You have Louis CK, Chris Rock, Dane Cook and Ricky Gervais. Okay so that’s four. If you watch those stupid Comedy Central roasts than you probably know more. It also probably means you should enhance your program watching.

Being funny is very, very difficult. The key to being funny is you have to be intelligent. The best form of humor revolves around making insightful and thought-provoking observations about our world. Nobody did it better than the late great George Carlin, arguably the funniest and most brilliant man to ever set foot on our planet.

So when you see your Facebook friend cracking jokes left and right, you start thinking, “Alright dude, give it a rest. You don’t have to be on all of the time.”

I’ll admit that I write hypocritical blog posts all of the time. I do many of the things that I mock. And this is certainly no exception. The only outlet Facebook provides for me is making jokes. I try to make people laugh in my Facebook statuses, I try to evoke joy when I comment on people’s statuses, and I search for a chuckle whenever I post on an event wall. Maybe one in every four of them are actually genuinely funny, which honestly isn’t that bad of a ratio compared to most people. Is it a cry for attention? Maybe, but what isn’t?

Trust me, I don’t think I am changing the world with my humor. I’m sure many of my jokes are unwanted and unfunny, but you have to live with the good jokes and the bad. After all, you’ll receive zero laughs for 100% of the jokes you never tell. I believe that is a quote from the bizzaro Wayne Gretzky.

Also, I assure you that I am not going to quit my day-job and become a comic. Although that would be awesome. But I am too good-looking to be a comedian, I think. (That was a joke.)

Anyway, the point I am making is that — if you think about it — there’s a select number of your Facebook friends who only try to be funny on Facebook. They almost never post serious statuses, and they are looking for laughs almost all of the time. The funny thing is that when you are an actual comedian, your humor is reaffirmed by people laughing. On Facebook, you are simply looking for somebody to hit the ‘like’ button. Not quite the same effect.

It’s certainly not a bad thing, but just getting back to my original point, it’s funny to me how Facebook allows that side of people to finally come into the limelight. You have the suddenly shy person turned outgoing, you discover that this mild-mannered, even-keeled girl you went to high school with is  emo and hates herself, and then you have that dude who thinks he is the funniest man alive. Of those three, I’d take the funny guy. Like if I was a girl I would have totally have sex with him. Just saying.

Alright so I am incredibly hung over right now, and apparently I blog when that happens. And now that I think about it, this blog has probably prevented me from making half of the stupid jokes on Facebook that I would have made otherwise had it not existed.

In conclusion, for those who have actually stuck with me through these past 2+ years, God motherf%$@ing bless you.

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Asking out a girl by text message

Let’s face it, chivalry is dead. And whatever it was that replaced chivalry is also dead. And that was before technology went ballistic and gave us what we have today.

As little as 25 years ago, you had men showing up on the front doors of women’s houses, wearing a suit, and asking the father if he has his permission to take his daughter on a date.

Now, you have guys asking girls out through text messaging and Facebook. We don’t even call anymore. And seriously, who actually calls people anymore? The only person who calls me is my grandma. My mom and dad contact me through text messaging now.

I feel like if I called a girl to ask her out, it would startle her. She wouldn’t even know how to react and it would deter from the asking-out process. So why bother?

So that leaves text messaging. I can proudly state that I may have the worst text messaging game of any man on this planet. And by planet I only mean the cool countries whose citizens can afford cell phones. Screw you Kenya, LOL!

But seriously, asking a girl out through a text message is an emasculating experience. You badly overthink what you want to say, and at the end of the day you end up writing some awkward, nonsensical essay. I really wish I could text a girl and just be like “Yo girl, you me and tomorrow night? What do you say?” And somehow I want Barry White music playing in the background while she reads that.

Instead, my texts are so elongated and wordy that the girl probably reads it without even realizing that I am trying to ask her out. She probably thinks I had a seizure mid-text message and just spewed out random words.

But you know what? I think I am not alone on this. Having “text message game” is even more difficult than having real-life game. Maybe there is the James Dean of texting somewhere out there, but the rest of the world is full of text-message versions of Jesse Eisenberg.

In fact, I’ll invite you into the world of how a man asks out a girl through text message, step-by-step. You ready?

1) You pick the right time of the day. When you used to call a girl to ask her out, you had to do it when you had free time, and weren’t around people so not to be overheard. With texting, that becomes irrelevant.

However, even if you are having a slow day at work, you never want to send the text between 12 and 2 p.m. That just makes it seem like you are a slacker who doesn’t actually do anything during the day. So you have to wait until about 3 p.m. at the earliest, but post-4 p.m. would be better.

2) You start thinking about what you want to say. The first word is integral — you could go with “Hey” or “Yo,” and then you have to decide how many letters you want to use, as in “Heyyyy” or “Yooo.” I personally like to go with one extra letter.

And then you have to make a commitment as to whether you are planning to incorporate “lol” or “haha.” It’s one or the other, and it’s either you do or you don’t. If you use both in the same message, that’s a disaster. Personally, I try to avoid them.

So finally you write out your message, and of course you’ll leave a line in there that says “if you can’t come, that’s totally cool!!” just to try to save face if she says no.

After 20 minutes of mixing and matching words and sentences, you have your first draft.

3) Condense your message. When you’re done, you’ll realize that you have written more words than you did for half of your college papers. So you take out a sentence, maybe cut another line in half, and then you have your final draft.

4) Before sending it to the girl, you send it to your friend for a second opinion. He’ll probably tell you that what you wrote is an embarrassment, that you should make it shorter, and get straight to the point quicker. The two of you will go back and forth for half-an-hour, scrutinizing every little word and eventually compromising on what to leave in and what to leave out.

Finally, finally, you have your finished copy.

5) You anxiously wait for the right moment to send it. During that time, you read it over in your head about fifteen times, trying to imagine how you would respond if you were the recipient of this message. But still, you save it as a draft, and wait a little while longer.

6) After about an hour, you finally man up. Your finger hovers over the ‘send’ button, a bead of sweat trickles down your forehead, and finally you push your finger forward a few inches to physically touch the send button on your phone, and your finger is trembling the whole time. Without even thinking, you toss your phone as far away as possible, having no desire to see what the response is.

7) You let your phone sit there for at least thirty minutes. You don’t want to know what the result is. You just want to go about your life, pretending that nothing happened. Finally, after a while, you pick it up, and you see if you have a text message.

Maybe you do and maybe you don’t. Obviously, the first step is even receiving a response. Trust me, it wouldn’t be the first time that you’ve been ignored.

And then when (if) you do get a text message, you hope it is indeed from her, and not one of your loser friends sending you a sports update.

But, excitedly, it is her! You sigh with relief that you’ve gotten past step 1 — acknowledgement. However, you put the phone back down, not ready for the response. You wait another thirty minutes.

8) You pick up your phone approximately six different times, but each time you end up putting it down again, allowing yourself to become distracted by something else. You even manufacture distractions. You make yourself think you’re thirsty, so you put the phone down and go to your kitchen to get some water. You make yourself think you may have received an important email, so you put the phone down and go on your laptop.

But finally, you check the text message. However, you don’t outright read it, and instead you put your hand over the words. Slowly, you slide your hand over, reading the response letter-by-letter. After this completely unnecessary process, your mind starts functioning the key words, such as “yes” or “no” or “but” or “sorry.”

After you know whether it’s a yes or no, you read the response in full, and you are left with elation or pure disappointment. Unfortunately for me, the majority of the time it is pure disappointment. And in some cases, she actually sent you a question back, and you realize that you just wasted two hours of valuable response time and she probably forgot about you already. But still, it’s a hell of a lot better than receiving a “no,” or even worse — being ignored.

And there you go.

You know what? If this made me realize anything, it’s that asking a girl out over the phone, or — dare I say it? — in actual person is a lot less stressful than doing it by texting. It’s faster, more succinct, and within seconds, you’re done. No stress, no anxiety, and you can sooner move on with your life.

No wonder everybody is so nervous and stressed out all of the time. It’s because smart phones and Facebook have completely changed the way men court women, and it scares the ever loving shit out of us.

Girls: being hit on by guys at bars should not be validation of anything

Females, I know your game.

You go to bars with your friends, and you just chill at the bar. You act like you don’t have the slightest interest in anybody else that is there except your friends. If you’re not talking to your friends, then you’re focusing on your drink, or a television screen, or more likely, pretending to send a text message on your phone.

You don’t attempt to acknowledge any members of the opposite gender. You don’t look around to scout who’s there, you don’t talk to any of them, and you certainly don’t flirt with any of them. For all intents and purposes, they don’t exist.

So why are you there, then?

If you simply wanted to be with your friends, couldn’t you have done that anywhere? Surely the taste of a vodka soda wasn’t enough incentive to get dolled up and drive all the way to a bar? Well, I’ll tell you why you’re there.

It’s because you are waiting for guys to approach you.

Yeah, I know how it works. You’re the girl, and we’re the guy. We’re supposed to chase you around with our tongues sticking out as if we’re a Labrador Retriever looking for its owner. We’re the guys, so we have to do all the work.

But here’s the sinister part — you may not even be looking to hook up that night. Heck, you may not even be interested in meeting or talking with any guys. Maybe you really do just want a girls night.

Regardless, though, you still hope guys approach you, and try on hit on you, and possibly buy you a drink.

What you girls are really seeking, what you’re really looking for — is validation.

Validation that you still got it. Validation that you are attainable, and that guys will still find you attractive enough to try to hit on you. You want validation that, despite whatever age you may be — you’re still a hot ticket.

And when a guy does approach you, you’ll probably humor him for five minutes, send him away, and then look at your friends and say, “What a loser.” But deep down, you’ll be ecstatic. Your self-esteem will rise and you will be very happy with yourself and with your ability to attract guys.

But now we’ve come to the point where I can let you girls in on a little secret. I may be breaking guy code here, but I don’t care. As a single guy who often goes to bars, gets drunk, and tries to talk to girls, I can instill some wisdom here.

Guys don’t talk to girls at bars because they’re hot. They talk to girls at bars because they’re there.

Whether you look like Mandy Moore or Mary Tyler Moore, you are going to be talked to. Because as a guy, the night is pretty much a loss if you don’t even try to talk to any girls at all. The general mindset for guys at a bar is this: arrive, quick survey of the talent, drink for several hours, and THEN talk to whatever the hell girl is within your vicinity. Because at that point, every girl looks good.

I know it sounds cruel, but that’s just how it works. So my point is, girls should not use male bar flirtations as validation for hotness. Because that doesn’t mean a damn thing. But what you should think instead is — if a guy doesn’t talk to me while I’m at a bar, then it probably means I’m hideous. Because for a drunk guy to decline you, that takes a lot.

A girl might respond to this and say that, “Well, I don’t use drunk guys as my barometer to decide whether I’m good-looking or not. I’m very comfortable with my physical appearance, thank you very much.”

First of all, you’re welcome. And secondly, I applaud you for your so-called “comfort with your appearance,” but, you’re a lying S.O.B if you deny that other people’s approval doesn’t matter to you. Nobody is beyond that. Maybe it doesn’t mean as much to you as other people, but it still matters.

Speaking from experience, when I am told that I am cute or handsome, it is a huge ego boost. So when a girl is told that she’s hot, then there’s no way it doesn’t make them feel good about themselves.

By the way, I apologize to Mary Tyler Moore for using her as an example for ugliness earlier. I did so mainly because she is 75 years old. But she was a good-looking gal in her day:

Whereas most girls I wait to flirt with after having 8 or 9 beers, I may have flirted with her after 2 or 3.

Now there’s a compliment if there ever was one.

How much must it suck to be a replacement referee right now?

Every now and then you will get a sports story that transcends the game. What I mean by that is that the news becomes so large that even those who don’t watch sports will know about it.

Well one of those instances occurred last night at the conclusion of the Monday Night Football game between the Seattle Seahawks and the Green Bay Packers. An exhilarating last-second heave by rookie quarterback Russell Wilson resulted in — what the referees interpreted as — a “simultaneous catch,” giving the Seahawks a miraculous victory, when replay clearly showed that the ball was actually intercepted. In short, the refs screwed the pooch and jobbed the Packers out of a victory.

This picture, of two replacement referees making different calls at the same time, will undoubtedly go down in infamy.

For those not too familiar with the situation, allow me to deliver some context. There is currently a labor dispute ongoing between the regular NFL officials and commissioner Roger Goodell. The officials want more money, and are on strike until they get it, and Goodell is refusing to give in.

So the league hired replacement referees, also known as scabs, to take their place. They began in the preseason, and since preseason games are not heavily scrutinized, the referees went mostly unnoticed. Goodell, meanwhile, clearly stood by the stance that nobody watches football for the officials, but for the players (and the cheerleaders.)

Well, after a couple of weeks of football, it became very noticeable how bad these replacement refs are. They were taking way too long to make calls, and when they did make calls they were wrong most of the time. It’s not their fault — they simply aren’t qualified to judge the game at this speed.

So of course, what happens? On the grandest of stages — Monday Night Football — when the entire country is watching, a last-second controversial play happens, and the referees screw it up and cost a team the game.

What ensued, while the referees sorted everything out, was a complete and utter mockery. I was sitting on my bed, laughing my ass off the entire time as the refs tried to get the players back on the field to kick the mandatory extra point. I laughed as coaches gave post-game interviews on the field before the game even officially ended. I laughed as Twitter exploded with criticism and outrage at what had just transpired before their very eyes.

All in all, it was a circus and an embarrassment for the league. If Goodell thought he had all of the leverage before, well, the shoe’s on the other foot now. Is that how that expression goes?

But let’s get back to these replacement officials. Most of these guys never officiated anything higher than Division-III college football games. Some are high school teachers, and some weren’t even competent enough to officiate in the Lingerie Football League.

Right now, everybody in America thinks they are a joke, an embarrassment and that they pretty much should all be sent away to some foreign island and never heard from again.

As somebody who enjoys being liked, I feel for these guys. I really do. When I get a vibe that just one person is unhappy with me, it stresses me out. I can’t function until I resolve things with that person. And again, that’s just one single person.

And I understand how some professions are inevitably going to result in people disliking you. Not only is that the case with sports officials, but it’s also the case with lawyers, IRS agents, and those court processors who serve out subpoenas to people due in court. Everybody hates those motherfuckers. However, the one silver lining is the fact that you are at least doing your job correctly. You can at least sleep well at night knowing that you got the job done.

With these replacement referees, that is far from the case. Not only does everybody hate them, but they are being universally labeled as stupid, incompetent and worthless failures. They’re essentially a running joke.

There is not one single redeeming factor for these guys. Everybody pretty much wants them to die. Their own families are probably embarrassed by them. It’s really an impossible situation, and as much as I laugh at them, I do genuinely feel for them.

Again, I know they’re doing the best they can, but whatever lives they had before this will never be the same again.

When this is all said and done, these replacements referees should all go on Oprah as a group for some serious reputation damage control. But even Oprah probably hates their guts right now, and that bitch loves everybody.

But maybe the referees can find some solace today. At least the Jewish ones. Because they can go home to their families and “enjoy the fast.”

Total change of gears here, but never, even in my moments of deepest contemplation, will I understand why people fast just because some holiday tells them to. By fasting, they deprive themselves of food, lose energy and slow their metabolism. Essentially, they are physically harming themselves because they are abiding by some ancient custom.

Well, I guess I don’t even need to criticize, because over the next 24 hours, the “fasters” will be miserable, and I will go about my life as I normally do and be blissfully happy. And then what happens after Yom Kippur? NOTHING!

If fasting was rewarded with money, or prostitutes, or even a free gift certificate to JC Penney, then yeah, I’d do it. But you get nothing. Not a single thing. And don’t you even dare say eternal salvation.

Don’t you dare.

At the end of the day, it’s our values and our behavior that will determine if we are good people or not, and not whether we fasted during a holiday. It takes a lifetime of love, friendship and joy to succeed in life. Everybody has a chance at that, regardless of who they are and what religion they observe.

Except for the replacement referees. They’re all going to hell.

I understand now why all celebrities are good looking

I wanted ever so badly to blog yesterday, but I simply could not muster the energy. So many times I stared at the computer, almost willing myself to write something, but instead, like the true American that I am, I chose to do nothing.

Why was I so tired? No I did not pull off a 12-hour bender full of cocaine and alcohol at a strip club, but instead I was up in Connecticut witnessing the matrimony of my cousin. It’s the fifth wedding I’ve attended in the past two years, and despite the fact that one of them was actually a gay marriage, I’d still say that this one was the most unique.

Instead of the reception being held in a church, it was held in the backyard of the groom’s family’s house. They have a pretty sizable house in Branford, Connecticut, and they decorated the backyard with a tent, lights, lanterns, candles, etc. It was actually quite beautiful.

Furthermore, the reception lacked chairs. Well, besides four or five chairs for those who required to be seated for medical purposes, that is. The entire reception was viewed by the approximately 100 attendee in a standing position. It was pretty cool because who the heck wants to sit down for 35 minutes listening to some minister ramble on? It is by far the worst part of every wedding. But standing outdoors on a brisk autumn day in the wilderness was far from boring.

Finally, the wedding also lacked a best man and a maid of honor.

And then, after, that, it became like every other wedding. Booze, dancing and music — what more do you need? As per my last blog, I continued my foray into my newfound love of wine, and proceeded to drink almost an entire bottle by myself. I have no regrets.

For obvious reasons, you never ever think of your cousin as being “attractive” or anything like that. It never occurs to you. You might mention to a friend one time that you have female cousins, and they’ll inevitably ask, “Is she hot?” and you’ll respond by saying, “I don’t fucking know, man. She’s my cousin.” It’s a thought that you don’t even want to occur to you. Ever.

That being said, I’d have to be blind to not acknowledge that my cousin looked beautiful during her wedding. Like, as in, she could have passed for a celebrity.

And it stands to reason, because your wedding day will probably represent the most attention you’ll ever receive in your lifetime, so naturally you want to go out all out as far as looking your best. And then I thought further about it and realized, during every wedding I’ve ever been to, the bride always looked very, very good.

So that’s when I further realized why every celebrity, every model and every woman who has ever been on television always looks pretty — because they spend the majority of their income on the best stylists, hairdressers and fashionistas who can make them look as pretty as possible.

If every girl tried to look as good every day as they do on their wedding day, they’d be considered universally gorgeous by any one who has ever laid eyes on them. And with celebrities, they do try to look as good every day as they do on their wedding day. Or, for most celebrities, I should say on their wedding days. Because you know, celebrity marriages have a shelf life of crab bisque.

If all of these beautiful people we see on TV and in the movies were forced to do their own makeup, without any other help, they would not look half as good. It doesn’t mean that all celebrities are naturally ugly, but they’re not as good-looking as we think.

Shit, I’m sure if I somehow ended up on American Idol, that their stylists could pretty me up to the point where girls might consider me “dreamy.” And it’s not because I was born with god given handsomeness, but because those seven-figure-a-year stylists are damn freaking good at their jobs. Plus I have nice hair.

Girls should spend as much money as they need to look beautiful on their wedding day. But every day? It honestly doesn’t sound like it’s worth it, and if that is what it takes to be famous these days, well, consider me happy to be an Average Joe. I’m sure most girls feel the same way.

I blame Kim Kardashian for all of this. I’m not entirely sure why, but I’m certain she is to blame.

But yeah, anyway, I had a wonderful time at the wedding.

Speaking of beautiful celebrities, the Emmys aired last night. I may be wrong, but I can’t remember there ever being more funny people associated with television than there are right now. It seemed like every five minutes an A-list comedian, actor or variety host would be out there cracking jokes. It was great.

One thing I noticed is that yellow is apparently the new color of choice. At least it was last night.

And it’s not even that they all wore yellow, but the three dresses are almost the exact same shade of yellow. Did these women call each other up the night before and plan this? Do girls do that?

Firstly, I adore Claire Danes with all of my heart and soul. I think she’s incredibly talented and stunningly gorgeous. If I had an extra ticket to a concert, and I just happened to know Claire’s number, I would totally text her and see if she wanted to come with me. And if she said no I would probably just put an open invitation on Facebook and pray that a hot chick responds. But they wouldn’t.

Okay, and I can’t think of anyone else who deserves a “How the hell did THAT happen?!” inquiry than Julie Bowen. She had a prominent role as Adam Sandler’s love interest in Happy Gilmore more than fifteen years ago, and somehow she’s gotten way hotter. I can’t imagine there is a hotter 42-year-old in the universe than Julie Bowen, and I’m not even saying that because she’s famous and pays a fortune for her makeup.

And speaking of MILFs, Julianne Moore is 51, and looks pretty damn good for her age. I certainly have no complaints there.

Apparently yellow was the key to success as well, because all three of these women took home hardware last night. And unfortunately, by hardware, I do not mean my schlong.

Lastly, before I stop typing, I’m sure you all heard about Green Day’s Billy Joe Armstrong’s meltdown on stage during the iHeartRadio music festival in Las Vegas on Friday.

Green Day is of course promoting their new album right now, and Billy Joe may have negatively affected how well the record will sell among 12-15 year-old girls after he mocked Justin Bieber mercilessly. I personally had no problem with it whatsoever.

The story was that Usher’s set ran too long, and so not to shorten Rihanna’s set, Green Day was only given 25 minutes to perform. That’s like six songs.

So I do understand his frustration. However, you should expect these type of things when you play at these commercially driven festivals with other acts like Usher and Rihanna. And then, the following day, Green Day released this statement on their Facebook page:

Billie Joe is seeking treatment for substance abuse. We would like everyone to know that our set was not cut short by Clear Channel and to apologize to those we offended at the iHeartRadio Festival in Las Vegas. We regretfully must postpone some of our upcoming promotional appearances.

Oh boy.

I don’t think there’s any question that, in this instance, Billy Joe was one of those melodramatic fools, neurotic to the bone, no doubt about it.

I think I’m finally starting to “get” wine.

I never thought the day would come where my alcohol consuming would evolve. But as I sit here writing, I am currently sipping a glass of Pinot Noir, a red wine.

No I am not softly shaking the glass, and sticking my nose in to smell it before each sip. I am not that big of a douchebag yet. However, I am genuinely enjoying it. I only recently discovered that I actually like wine.

Will wine ever supplant beer as my alcohol-of-choice? Of course not. Beer was my first love, and it will remain that way until it single-handedly causes me to die several years before I would have otherwise. And that is exactly how it should be.

It’s not that I never understood wine, I just didn’t like it. Of course, during special family dinners when you were in your late teens, the adults would let you try wine — and it would disgust you. They’d make references about how it’s your first time drinking alcohol, meanwhile, you probably got shitfaced with your friends in somebody’s basement the weekend before.

I love beer. I even love the taste of beer. I love everything about beer. I know girls enjoy both wine and liquor for two reasons — it gets them drunk quicker and more efficiently, and because they consume less and don’t get fat. Well, neither of those matter to me.

I enjoy the slow process of getting drunk. I like working my way up to beer one, two, three, etc. until I feel the buzz, and then I become drunk, and then I become wasted. It’s all part of the experience. I’ll probably mix some shots in along the way just to mix things up. And I definitely do not care about what alcohol does to my physical appearance. I am damn proud of my beer gut.

So wine never really appealed to me. In fact, it is never even a thought in my mind. When I am at a bar, and I’m deciding what I want to drink, I always think that I have three options — beer, a shot or a mixed drink. Wine does not even enter into the equation. And when I did see one of my friends drinking wine at a bar, I would ask them, “Why? You know they serve beer here, right?”

However, recently I came to the sudden realization that I enjoy the taste of wine. Particularly red wines. And in certain contexts, I can actually see myself choosing to drink wine over beer. Of course, when I’m out with my friends on a Friday and Saturday night on the town, then it’s beer all the way, no questions asked.

But, you know, if it’s ever a night in and I feel like getting a nice buzz on, then I can see myself opening a bottle of wine. In fact, I think it’s perfectly socially acceptable to drink wine by yourself. On the other hand, drinking beer on your own (in excess) is not, and is also a little depressing.

I’m never actually going to take the time to learn the difference between wines, since there’s like a million, but I think knowing the difference between a red and a white is good enough for now.

It’s funny to me because I always thought of wine as an “acquired taste,” but I never quite knew how long it would take my palate to acquire it. It turns out that it didn’t take very long. Also, you hear about all of the “health benefits” that come with wine, and its antioxidants and all that crap. I suppose that’s a good thing as well. Health is good.

But again, it’s still very much beer over wine. You can’t play wine pong, you can’t have a power hour with wine, and you can’t shotgun a bottle of wine. There’s just so much more fun to be had with beer than wine. Although, beer comes with no health benefits, besides slowly killing you.

You have so many more opportunities to have fun when you are drinking beer. There’s hundreds of drinking games to be played, and you can pretty much drink beer as fast as you want. The typical beer setting involves five guys sitting around the television talking about sports and females. What’s better than that?

But with wine, you’re slowly sipping, and taking a long time in between refills, and hanging around your other wine-drinking friends who are doing the exact same thing. The typical wine setting involves three people standing around, holding a glass, and talking about the economy. FUN!

Again, I’m not bashing wine, in fact, I’m starting to get it. But it’s still a very contextual drink.

Beer = College party

Wine = Speed dating

Beer = Beerpong

Wine = Pictionary

Beer = keg stand

Wine = Drink… two sips at once.

Beer = You can smack someone’s beer bottle with yours and make it fizz.

Wine = Easier to roofie. (Okay, there’s one benefit.)

In the end, it’s really no contest as to which alcoholic beverage reigns superior. Also, there’s this:

I love beer.

The new iPhone is out, so people will buy it because it’s what we do.

I don’t even own an iPhone, nor have I ever owned an iPhone, and yet, I’ve known about its release date for several months now. The renowned iPhone 5 was officially announced last week, and it will begin to be shipped out in the coming days.

Here is a timeline of the iPhone 5:

Late June: Word began leaking across the Internet and among people that it was going to be released sometime around September or October. Therefore, whenever somebody expressed their desire to get a new phone, they would be told by their friends to “Just wait until September when the new iPhone comes out.”

Sometime in July: The release date began to be more closely pinpointed, and people started to pre-ejaculate with excitement. And still, every single person you know urged you to “…wait for the iPhone.”

Sept. 12: The iPhone 5 was officially announced, and I’m sure some idiot somewhere in the world set up a tent outside of an Apple store.

Sept 21: The iPhone will ship, and then over the next few days people will write Facebook statuses about how they just got it delivered to them.

Sept. 25- Oct. 2: People will have absolutely no idea what the hell they are doing.

Remember the mass chaos that ensued when the iPhone 4 came out in June 2010?

First of all, I have no idea what the hell happened during that time. It seemed like everybody I know got the iPhone 4. Everybody pre-ordered it, and then got it, and then had no idea how to “unlock” it. And all the while, I laughed.

Well, we can probably expect the same thing with the iPhone 5.

Although Steve Jobs has been dead for almost exactly one year now, Apple Inc. will never come anywhere close to being in trouble. And why is that? Because they’ve essentially monopolized the telecommunications industry right now. They can create whatever the hell kind of phone they want, give it a number, and everybody will go ahead and buy it without doing any research. Because that is 21st century consumerism.

“Apple is releasing a new product, so I MUST have it.”

It doesn’t matter how much it costs, nor does it matter if it even has added any new features, all that matters is that it’s Apple and that it is the hip new thing.

I still own my Motorola Droid 2. I’ve had it for quite a while now. It’s a great phone, as I have high-speed Internet connection, many fun apps, it’s compact and it has voice commands. However, as far as a smart phone goes — it sucks. The battery life sucks, the camera is buggy, and it freezes often. Yes I know this is first world problems, but I don’t care. I’m paying multiple hundreds of dollars for this shiznit.

I’m also due for an upgrade. In fact, I actually got a text message from Verizon this very morning, informing me that since it’s been two years since my purchase, I get a discount on my upgrade. Rad!

Will I go 100% hypocrite and purchase the iPhone 5? Maybe. However, and I know this is a bizarre concept, but — I think I might actually… wait a little while. I think I’ll actually give it a couple of weeks, ask the opinions of my friends who impulsively pre-ordered it, and maybe even — and I know this sounds crazy — read a review or two.

I know, what am I thinking, right? What kind of decision-making strategy is that?

The iPhone 5 will be available for purchase on Sept. 21, and yet, I may wait until Oct. 15 to get one? Why even bother? I might as well just abandon phones all together and go live with the hill people if I’m going to wait that long. I even bet there are people out there who didn’t know you can buy the iPhone 5 without pre-ordering it.

But what does it even matter? Apple doesn’t need my help. The iPhone 5 reportedly sold out twenty times faster than the iPhone 4 did. The phone is expected to boost the United States’ Gross Domestic Product by $3.2 billion, according to expert economists.

In other words, our economy basically relies on the success of this phone. Thank goodness for idiotic impulsive buyers.

But let’s stop talking about America. Let’s talk about England. There is a band in England who has been popular for quite some time now, who go by the name of Muse. They have released five studio albums, are immensely popular, and have had amazing songs such as “Starlight,” “Knights of Cydonia, “Time is Running Out,” and more recently, “Uprising.” If you don’t know who they are, that is a problem.

Anyway, their sixth studio album, titled The 2nd Law, is due out in October (“OMG pre-order!!), but the first single off the track has already been released.

The song is called “Madness,” and I’m absolutely mesmerized by the song. I have long been a fan of Muse, but I have never been blown away by them from a song like I am with this one. The way it escalates, and builds and builds until the climactic conclusion is spellbinding, and I wanted to share it with you all.

I’ve listened to it over a dozen times already, and I love it.

The song actually bodes well with the release of the new iPhone.

Madness, indeed.