Well then. As the readers of this blog may have noticed, the description has been changed to 'we'. No, McGee has not become schizophrenic since the last post, nor has he begun to use the royal 'we'. Actually, that's something that I would probably do, going by the title of 'Lord' for some time. Anyway, after a lengthy discussion yesterday, transforming a quip about me eating individually named jelly babies into some kind of Lovecraftian horror, I was offered the position as a writer-helper-person for this blog-o-matic, which I accepted, my own rambling blog about video games having staggered around for a bit before falling into the dirt. Anyway, that's enough of the friendly introduction, now to my bitter angry self. Yay!
So, as someone with far too much free time on their hands usually does, I spend most of my days sitting around, browsing web forums, watching cartoons and shouting about conspiracies to all who will listen. Or haven't managed to untie themselves yet. As such, I find myself as quite an angry person at the worst of times. I have, after much research, tracked down one of the main sources of my inexhaustible rage. Buses. Now, as someone who makes use of the bus often, embarking on the 45-minute journey to college at the beginning of each day, I have become accustomed to my mode of transport; never breathing too deeply or inhaling at any time, and generally avoiding those who look as though they would bother me. So, that's most people to my paranoid eyes.
Well, as my college is paired with a school, there is the deal of putting up with the packed bus each day. Well, there is only ONE bus that goes in my direction, and is usually filled with a variety of screaming children from both my school and a nearby one. The moment that bell goes at the end of the day, I'm off, powerwalking to the second stop to get a seat, which is usually available. It's these same kids, however, that every day run straight from school to the bus stop and jump on, determined to make as much noise as possible. It's times like this that I feel more like one of those old 'get off my lawn' type of person. I'm not a big fan of anyone who is younger than me, really. I haven't a bloody clue what to do with babies either. My mum put my baby cousin down on my bed while I had relatives visiting and walked off, leaving me alone with the potato-headed dribbler. Then it cried. Yes, we all cried as a baby, wah wah wah, but being an arrogant bastard at the best of times, I'm still going to complain about it. There are far too many babies these days anyway. People running around and dropping litters of these mewling cabbages everywhere.
Moving on to other things, it has come to my attention that most decent films these days seem to get pushed aside by those with larger financial backing. Last week, I went to the premiere of Iron Sky, a film that for some reason was only on for one night. Now, I had been largely unaware of the film until a friend told me about it the previous night, and I must say that it is the best I've seen in a while. However, it was only on once at my local cinema, one showing at night. You know what was on about six times that day? Piranha Double D. Yep. A film with David Hasslehoff, a man who probably doesn't even know where he is half the time, and boobs. That's the film."Oh, it's a comedy!" There's comedy, then there's shit. And I know my poop, ladies and gentlemen. I'm detecting a big hint towards Idiocracy (Another not bad film) here.
Ah well, that's it for today's nonsensical rambling rant. Maybe I'll have something reasonably coherent next time, something that isn't just me shouting at things that make me angry. Oh, and I have to make an obligatory bad joke at the end of every post. Okay, here's one from 'Russian Political Humour':
"Comrade Stalin goes to a football game. It gets cancelled at half-time. This is because he killed everyone."
