I’m going to shut the fuck up for a while. Seriously. I feel like I’ve been running my mouth too much, talking shit about everything I hate: Websites, musicians, people … While that’s fun, I’m just about done with this book and it’s taking away valuable writing time.
Plus, I know what I look like: An old bitter guy who runs around talking shit. I get it. And I have no reason to be bitter: I have work, I’m getting married soon, I have two cats, I have money and I live in a beautiful house in the suburbs. And, get this, last night I wrote a story without any pants or underwear on and ate jelly for dinner. Jelly! If I was eleven-years-old and saw “Josh of the future,” I would say, “Fuck yeah!”
But there’s this one website here in Sacramento that I hate so much that I think about it a lot. It’s called Sacramento Press. If you really want to find it, use Google. They’re a bunch of clueless fucks who decided to start up the best fucking news site in the goddamn world. The problem is, it’s community journalism, which means that the average Sacramento resident can write a story and call it a “story” and then they get to run around and say, “Look, mom, I’m published!”
The other problem is that their staff are the dullest motherfuckers on the planet. They employ a couple hot, slutty chicks, but the problem with hot, slutty chicks is that they’re dumber than shit.
Anyway, most of the writing is not done by staff writers, but by average Sacramentans.
But have you seen the average Sacramentan? They look something like this:
It’s fucking gross. Would you want to read a story by that guy?
Well, because of my constant shit-talking, one of the company’s founders, a troll-like figure, set up a meeting so he could see if there was any validity to my hatred. But during our meeting, he was taking notes with this futuristic pen. It was fatter than a normal pen and it had a little USB thing on it. I guess the pen was supposed to record everything you were writing on this futuristic paper that came with it. When you plug the pen into your computer, it stores all the shit you wrote down. Plus, it acts as a voice recorder and it does some other weird shit. So, the point is, I had no idea what he was talking about during our meeting and I had no fucking clue what I was saying because I was staring at his goddamn space pen.
Anyway, I guess, the point was to stop talking shit, but now I’m all pissed off again. Fuck you, Sacramento. Fuck you, community journalism. Fuck you, space pen.