Busting my literary cherry (How romantic!)

Well, I guess it's kind of official. I have become one of the blogging horde. Obviously Facebook's little comment section just wasn't enough to satisfy my big ego and small vocabulary. Just kidding, I have a nicely sized vocabulary, my wife assures me that it's more than adequate. So now that I have set the tone with my claim that I am an angry overprivileged white male I should probably follow through with a ranting diatribe. Okay, so here goes...

Today's topic for an off-the-cuff rant will be....Susan Boyle. WTF!! I know, I know, I promised a lot of anger and those who read my profile have probably already logged off by now, but...

Earlier today, I was wasting my life commenting on other's comments on Facebook (Step 11 out of the 12 Steps of Suicide, Step 12 being the act itself). I had made comments to the effect that I thought it was ludicrous that Piers (Pinch Face) Morgan had let it be known that he wanted to be the first to kiss Susan Boyle. What a lucky girl! Perhaps Susan's dream is to be kissed by someone who's pockets aren't being lined by photo-op cash. Maybe she doesn't want to be kissed for fuck's sake (blog title references will abound, be forewarned). The people that have lined up since her performance to condescend to her and use her as an example of their own so-called moral breakthroughs make me puke. None of these assholes would have even remembered her name if she didn't have such a wonderful voice. And don't lie, we were all ready to share a titter at another goofy talent contest wannabe, but personally, it felt good to feel like an idiot when she did a great job of the task she set out to do: singing. We should definitely be more aware of the manipulations these shows are putting us through, a fresh set of eyes would be good for us all in the future.

Now that I have attempted to purge my own guilt, let's get back to good old Piers (Job Description: Donald Trump and Simon Cowell's Towelboy) and his ridiculous attempt to seem "earthy" and "connected" to the little people by claiming he wanted to plant the first smackeroo on Susan's virgin cheek. Piers, people (real people) don't fucking buy it when you show interest in them just because they dun good y'all. Susan deserves a kiss from someone who knows her and likes her and wants to kiss her, not someone whose (enlarged) paycheque depends on her. Lets face it, if she makes it through the competition and her talent is as valid as it seems at first blush, she won't need losers like Morgan and Cowell, she will be able to write her own ticket, and that is real power, ladies and gents.

Since I want a stream of simmering anger to run through this blog, I would like to say: Susan, I hope you win the whole thing and wipe your ass with the X-wielding losers standing in your way.
And please, for the Love of God, don't let Piers get his stripper-tainted lips near you. What? He is rich. And no, you-know-who, I am not on meds yet (you would be amazed how long you can fly under the radar with undiagnosed personality disorder!)

Feel free to comment, people, I desperately love to argue.