How Social Media Raped the Rock Star Dream


Of all the jaw-dropping things that have made me wonder, ‘Am I really that far ahead of the rest of society?!’, none have been so maddening as the articles that pop up questioning if social media is making us more narcissistic. Their existence is utterly stupefying. What’s next, an article debating whether or not a shotgun blast to the temple affects critical thinking?

I had social media’s number from the first moment I encountered it. Way back around 2004, when myspace was making its first appearance, I remember having a conversation with my ex about selecting pictures to put online. The dialogue was something akin to:

“Yeah, but, you’re only putting the pictures that you look best in up, right?”

“Of course. Who wants to put bad pictures on myspace?”

That was the moment I lost it. It was as if her statement, spoken with such a sense of, ‘duh!’, behind it, immediately confirmed all my fears about the possibilities of social media and how easily it was going to tap into human narcissism. Recognizing the traits I had seen in myself in those using the site (and even in those early days, it already seemed as if everyone had suddenly jumped onto myspace), I, echoing the sentiment of Groucho’s classic line about belonging to clubs who’d have him as a member, wanted absolutely nothing to do with it.

But was it my traits that stood out so blatantly to me, or the overall traits of my people, the artists, the dreamers, the entertainers?

Recently I saw a campaign from an 18-year old Instagram model who was rallying against the fake nature of social media, recaptioning all her photos with realistic descriptions like, ‘It took me 100 different shots to get my stomach to look this flat.’ In the video accompanying her campaign, she tearfully recounts how much she took photos only for likes and followers, how fake that all was, and how she wants her deleting her account to be a ‘wake up call’ to people that social media just isn’t as (gasp!) real as the real world.

What a fucking genius, eh?

Watching this stream of brilliance spew forth from her tear-stained teenage face, I finally realized just exactly what it was that upset me so much about this entire now-inescapable realm of online fuckery: it allows people to get a taste of the show business life with no work whatsoever.

Models take many different shots to get the right version for the magazine cover. Directors also take many different shots to get the right take for the final cut. Musicians do many takes to get the best possible version on the album. Publicists exist solely to sculpt acceptable versions of whatever star they’re representing to the  general public. It’s all smoke and mirrors, it’s all controlled, it’s all fake, and it’s all been going on for hundreds of years now. It’s not exactly a revelation. This is how show business works.

People will often give me a hard time for how obsessively active I became on facebook after spewing venom at it for so many years. No shit. Why do you think I was so vehement about not joining? I knew social media was created exactly for people like me. It was as if the Gods of artistic vanity had come down from the sky to create a website exclusively for their loyal subjects. I knew, in my heart, from the very first second I heard of it, that social media would be everything I could ever want out of life.

And why not? I’m a lifelong student of entertainment. What could be better than a format to readily share my talents with the public? I could put carefully constructed pictures of myself up, sculpt a persona through well-thought out posts, and in general be given a place to experience a pseudo-version of what the already-established’s were doing. Hey, this is what we do! You think Jimmy Iovine saw Eminem walk in with a freshly blonde head of hair and thought, ‘Hmm, but that’s not your natural color, Marshall’? He damn near flipped his lid thinking of how much he could now sell this platinum-topped potty mouth to the public. Reading Eminem’s mother’s book, you also get a sense of how financially beneficial the record companies thought all the family drama was. Should they have started up a campaign tearfully telling people they were wrong for wanting the public to eat up Em talking about raping his mother?

I mean, they could have, as it obviously has despicable undertones, but my point is how much this already is, and always has been, the way the world of show business works. You ‘normal’ folks, if you’ll excuse the derogatory sting I’m sure that word carries with it, are now able to experience a little bit of that for yourself simply by signing up for a free website.

You have no desire to be famous, nor the time available to put in the effort to do so. You won’t be living the movie star cliche anytime soon, but guess what? Posting a picture up you think you look pretty damn hot in and coming back to a swarm of likes and comments about it is a pretty goddamn good facsimile of the situation. You’re not an established writer with a column, but you now have a format to easily post your opinions to hundreds of people and even have them shared by others. You’re not a comedian, but you can easily waltz into a department store, do something stupid on your cellphone, post it in seconds, and boom, now you’re experiencing a facsimile of what it’s like to be Jim Carrey, likes and LOL’s popping up from your hilarious antics.

I must admit, it kind of hurts. This is what was at the heart of all this distrust of these websites. Nowadays, culturally-approved beauty and an Instagram account is enough to experience what Elizabeth Taylor must have felt like walking down the red carpet. Why try for the real thing? It’s a ton of work and stress, and you only want the fun parts, right?

This is like a new app coming out called ‘Doctor for a Day’, where people can easily connect to hospital operating rooms through their phones and give helpful advice to the surgeons on what needs to be done. You can imagine the people who busted their asses in medical school for over a decade feeling a little pissed that suddenly it’s beyond easy for every jackass to dispense quack advice and feel important just because someone made the process of being able to get your voice heard in the operating room so breathtakingly stress free.

I have a slavish devotion to honesty in my art, and yet am still blindingly aware of how much of a constant tight rope act pursuing something like this is. You’re always controlling and sculpting what you put out there. And yet here our little Mensa student is, crying her eyes out about getting caught up in the quest for likes and how awful and fake it is.

Awful and fake it may be, sweetie, but that’s simply the world us artists and entertainers deal with every day. If she and the rest of this society wants to complain about the lack of real life on social media, I suggest you go back to reality and leave the vanity sites to the people who are actually supposed to use them, the ones whose thumping passion means we’ll never spend a day on this planet not calculating what we put out there to entertain you.

So for every wannabe Tom Green Vine star running around Target with an iPhone, every wannabe model getting the perfect ass angle for followers on instagram, and every motherfucking one of you out there trying to pimp yourself out in your spare time between college classes and kid-raising, I say to you: give it back to us. Only certain people are made to actually be able to handle these kinds of levels of narcissism, and that is us, the artists, writers, performers, singers, madmen, and clowns, the ones for whom constant public sculpting is an unavoidable side effect of their passion. Horrifically cliche as it may be, we do suffer for our art. Those of you gleefully counting the likes on the picture of your raspberry chicken walnut salad are mainlining our attention buzz without ever feeling the true pangs of a life dedicated to this behavior. Before you complain about how social media has gotten, start to think if it was really for you in the first place.

Shame on all of you normal people out there. Your love of social media has raped and robbed our rock star dreams of their special nature.

Now, if you’ll excuse me, I’ve got to watch some Netflix, smoke a bowl and masturbate before I give my two cents on this heart replacement surgery in a few hours.

‘Don’t Be a Fag!’ – Learning to Not Underestimate Genital Slavery


OK, look, let’s get right down to the heart of the matter: if you want to chase females you’re going to have to put up with a lot of shit, all while making sure you yourself are immaculate in your presentation. The reason for this is that nature itself is out of whack. Women are crazy, but them being crazy isn’t that crazy – it’s just because they have vaginas. Sounds like a comedy bit, right? It isn’t. There’s so much going on down there, with ovaries and fallopian tubes freely dispersing chemicals that trigger onslaughts of emotion like they’re at an internal organ rave, it’s a wonder any of them can think properly. As guys, our dicks basically vehemently scream, ‘Empty me!’, when one of two substances fill them. That’s about it. But a woman’s magical garden of wet chemistry is like being on acid all the time. To get mad at their craziness would be like feeding your child six tabs of LSD and then complaining they seem removed. It’s natural, and, ‘crazy’, is almost synonymous with, ‘feminine’. Anger is more of the driving force behind male craziness, and when a guy is hypersensitive and emotional, it’s more seen as effeminate and faggy. That’s because having all those rapid fire emotions are a result of too many hormones and estrogen, where as testosterone simply births bouts of fist-smashing rage. So, step one, women are crazy, and it has nothing to do with their individual personalities. They are simply slaves to the cherry-pantie makers between their thighs. Accept it, don’t hate it, and move on.

Two, you have to realize that our sex drives are not equal. Women claim to want it just as bad as men, and yet their entire world is vulnerable to an undeniable influence simply by them being women. Men are going to approach them so much, so endlessly, from the moment their breasts make 6th grade gym class a living hell all the way up to when ovulation is a thing of the past, that their sex drives having an air of desperation about them is damn near impossible. Even women who are mildly attractive by the slavish cultural standards of beauty spend at least six hours a day worrying if the guy awkwardly propositioning them on the street is going to rape them. Meanwhile, geek-boy males live in such a world of sexual isolation that they climb watch towers with shotguns. Therefore, yes, we both really want it, but as a male, no one gives a fuck about you. Your gender is forever over-saturated on the dating market. No girl needs to worry about if another guy will come up to her soon, but every guy needs to worry about never attracting the attention of a girl. So, step two, realize you have to deal with a bunch of bullshit because your penis makes people not give a shit about you.

So now, if you want women, you have to put up with crazy beings that have beyond zero tolerance for discomfort. Oh sure, you’ll learn techniques to help you overcome all the little obstacles their uncomfortable traits will throw your way, but ain’t none of them gonna give a shit about any insecurities you have. Again, when we over-think this, we deny our natural gender roles. The entire objective when speaking to women is not to be a fag. And what does being a fag mean? Well, jump back two paragraphs. It means displaying feminine qualities. Females already have a massive torrent of emotions violating and influencing their every thought. Why should they have to deal with yours as well? Or, to put it a simpler way, they already have a pussy between their legs. They don’t need to be dating one.

Your natural job is to be a counterpart. Why do women hate nice guys? Because nice guys are too much like women! Dude, your faggot ass has been internally debating whether or not to kiss her for the past three hours. That’s some shit a vagina would produce. She can smell the similar stench and it’s not pleasant. It’s not an asshole thing to be fast and make a move – it’s a male thing. The testosterone tells you to grab her and kiss her and shuts up the wall of doubtful emotions she’s naturally releasing as a female, comforting her as your alpha energy takes the lead and brings in logic-based maleness as opposed to vagina-based madness. STOP CLINGING TO YOUR PERSONALITIES, IT’S JUST HOW OUR GENITALS AFFECT US. Don’t over-think it. An ‘asshole’ guy is more naturally testosterone based. A ‘nice’ guy is more naturally estrogen based. Females aren’t turned off by ‘nice guys’, they’re just responding to feminine qualities coming from a supposedly male suitor with a completely natural cognitive dissonance. PERSONALITIES ARE THE HEARTBREAKING ILLUSION. You think that girl you talk to wouldn’t go for the jerk because she’s so sweet but, uh oh!, her vagina is responding to the raw male energy and naturally drying up at the sound of your sensitive and romantic rumblings.

SO EVERYTHING, AT ALL TIMES, MUST ALWAYS, ALWAYS BE COOL. Once they sense the faggy, feminine energy come flying out of you, THEY WILL BE SLAVES TO THE URGE TO RUN AWAY. THE DNA URGE TAKES ANY SPECIFICITIES OF THEIR PERSONALITIES AND MAKES THEM SUCK ITS DICK. Why do you think these faggoty nice guys have such a hard fucking time? It can’t not leak out of them and it instantly turns them into the one thing every fiber of feminine DNA wants murdered. Got some emotional craziness going on in your head and you’re a male? ENJOY BEING ALONE, YOU CLINGY FUCKING FAGGOT. Got some emotional craziness going on in your head and you’re a female? Don’t worry, EVERY GUY ON THIS PLANET WANTS YOUR GENDER BADLY ENOUGH TO TAKE CLASSES ON HOW EXACTLY TO PUT UP WITH YOUR CRAZINESS LONG ENOUGH TO GET YOU WHILE SIMULTANEOUSLY STIFLING ANY OF THEIRS WHATSOEVER.

And so the natural battlefield leaves the see-saw wildly uneven. We must deal with woman’s emotional craziness while shrugging with James Dean-esque cool while they regale us with tales of sleeping with other men because we all know how a whiney, genuinely upset, ‘YOU FUCKED SOMEONE ELSE?!’ sounds coming out of the mouth of a guy. It is for this reason that every man should be a ladies man. More experience naturally births more confidence, more assured hands leading you into a perfect kiss as opposed to fumbling at your side with a lack of finesse. We tell our young men how essential experience is for jobs and careers and yet don’t stress how essential of a natural role the promiscuous male is to society. We bat eyes at the concept of romance without understanding how intrinsically awful attempts made at it without confidence are. No, no, no. For those of us who wish to pursue women, we must be supermen, stoic pillars of logical and comforting male pride meant to tame the rowdy rapids that are the vagina-influenced brains of the female gender.

Lord o Lord, celibacy never looked so good!

Free Thinkers Are Dangerous

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The social media entity known as ‘Jason Ellsworth’ is a lie. It is actually a page run by the government with the intent of discouraging rebellious mind states. Ever since facebook’s inception, we have been using our own version of graph search to locate certain personality types. Mr. Ellsworth, even from his first few posts, was exactly what we were looking for. We contacted him, offered him compensation for having his page taken over, and have been controlling every aspect of it ever since.

So why break our silence now? We believe that, after five years of his constant philosophizing, we have made our point and now wish to present it to you in hopes of eliminating any confusion. To be clear, the thoughts contained here were from Mr. Ellsworth’s mind, but were overseen by us. Mr. Ellsworth represents a stellar example of a very common and classic human archetype: the free thinker. Through this incessant look into his mentality, we hope to have once and for all neutered the romanticized appeal of this personality type.

You have now seen a solid half decade of posts trying to deal with a so-called, ‘elevated consciousness’, that have become increasingly more repetitive. Mr. Ellsworth has delved into the deepest realms of the human psyche and experience and come up with plenty of diatribes and yet no actual results. He is in no way further along than he was at the start of this journey, except on some meaningless mental plane of epiphanies. It has not led to advancement in the real world whatsoever.

Over the last few months, you may have noticed a frustration over the pointless nature of such revelations from none other than Mr. Ellsworth himself. Being aware, dear citizens, has always been and will always be a cruel trick. It simply makes you more conscious of the problems without any solutions. And why is that? Why is it that these psychedelic substances, so passionately preached by types like Mr. Ellsworth, can come up with a million amazing thoughts but yet not one actual concrete, applicable idea?

It’s because there are no solutions. Idealism is a promise from an absentee father, presented only to perpetuate false hope, a buoy that only floats on the sea of art. Art, a wonderful addition to our society, must be understood to be included. It is a bandage. When you slightly hurt yourself, you grab a bandage and it eases the pain. Beyond that, a bandage has no actual use to society, and if the pain increases to a more serious level, you will need to seek other outlets (surgery, doctors) to actually feel better. Artistic minds are naturally drawn towards questioning life and can become quite full of themselves from the presumed importance of these thoughts, mistakenly overestimating their potential to do something about it. They get their heads full of manifestos and revolutions, distribute them to the public, and get the false hope joyfully reverberating inside citizen’s skulls once again.

Minds like this forget their true purpose, that they are only supposed to be a bandage for the similar-minded. They get excited and think themselves to be capable of actually causing change as opposed to just spouting off philosophies, never realizing this is as impossible for them as much as effectively writing a song or constructing a poem is for most government officials. These types of brains are childlike dreamers and do not understand what it takes to actually run a country.

Much is made of us here at the government lying to you or working in secrecy,  with people continually expressing anger over our ‘evil’ ways. This is the same as people who aren’t parents discussing raising children. Most of you have no clue what it takes to actually keep people in line. Of course we lie to you. Of course things are done behind your back. Do you know how many millions of people we have to keep from spewing into chaos? Do you think your loving parents told you every little part of their day to day lives when you were children? Of course not. Some things would scare you. Others would be pointless for you to know or only confuse or stress you. Human brains can respond extremely positively to truth, and yet the vessel it is contained in is often useless for real social change. To put it in other terms, Kurt Cobain works beautifully as a leader when he’s a musician speaking to depressed teenagers. His and other artist’s personality types wouldn’t work for a second when placed in positions that deal with actual societal issues, such as President. The realistic brain understands the very real dangers of feeding the public unadulterated truth.

This, dear citizens, is the fallacy of all artists, poets, philosophers, rebels, and free thinkers – that their exotic mindsets translate into anything useful other than, as noted, a bandage to soothe. We have made mistakes, some of which are very shameful. We are not perfect and we do operate behind closed doors. But we have given you a mostly peaceful existence, one that is much closer to what the artists sing about than most realize. Problems occur and are obsessed over, but what of all the people who are able to live quiet, harm-free lives because of what we have set up in this country? You cry over tragedies put under a microscope but neglect to look at how much of a functioning society we’ve really created. If you think you can improve on it, please be proactive in doing something about it instead of just ruminating through song or words. Taking that approach is fine, but it’s time to internalize the futility of it.

It is said free thinkers are dangerous, with the implication being they are the ones who will rattle the cages. It’s a true statement, but for a different reason. They are dangerous because they are charlatans. They preach beautiful lies. Idealism is thoughts of a dream world, so a dream world is the only place that particular sentiment has any use. We are a real society, with real people and real problems.

Mr. Ellsworth, through his hyper-analytical mentality, has reached the pinnacle of understanding. It has left him with nowhere to go. If he wishes to further himself, it will have to be in our world, the one he so often mocked. Even if he wants to push these thoughts out further into the public, an understanding of certain industries will be in order. How does the publishing world work? What agents will look at your material? You can see that no matter what path he chooses, anything other than a monk’s life of silence will require knowledge of this actual existence, the same one his type so claims to despise.

So for those of you who wish to actually participate in this world, your government asks one simple task of you: give up the dream of rebellion. It is a childish pursuit and one that leads to a dead end. We hope Mr. Ellsworth’s posts have been adequate proof of this. Thank you for your time, and please, continue to enjoy your society as law-abiding citizens.