Eric Hates You

Social networking is a load of crap.  If people really wanted to know what was going on in your life they would give you  a call or meet you for lunch.  To use MySpace, you first have to forget the English language and start turning nouns like “friend” into verbs.  When someone wants to “friend” you, you had better accept.  You don’t want to offend someone and then have them make all of their “friends” write nasty things on your MySpace page.  It’s either that or an invitation to a house to have them and 7 of their real friends beat the crap out of you, videotape it, and post it on MySpace to show all of their MySpace “friends” they mean business.  You have 10,000 “friends”?  I bet you do.  I bet you also invite them all to Thanksgiving dinner and buy all 10,000 of them Christmas/Hanukkah/Kwanza gifts as well.

“But it’s a great place for up and coming bands to get their music out there” you say?  I have a better suggestion for all of the bands out there who think that MySpace is the way to get a record label to notice you: go play your music for real live people in a bistro or in someone’s backyard for a birthday party instead of expecting us all to go to your MySpace page to check out your edgy new “single”.  Guess what?  You don’t have a “single” because you aren’t a real band; you are a MySpace sideshow.  You know that picture of your “band” that you have as a tiled background on your MySpace page?  You know, the one where you are all turned slightly to the left with the thumbs of every member of your “band” stuck in their pockets?  You aren’t original for coming up with that, you saw it on the MySpace page of the “band” who “friended” your “band” yesterday.

The fact that people would rather ask you for your MySpace page than engage you in a real life conversation is appalling.  I don’t want to be your MySpace “friend” and I don’t give a crap who your “band” is.  What angers me the most about MySpace is that a Google search of “EricHatesYou” returns the number one result of a guy whose MySpace name also happens to be “EricHatesYou”.  I don’t have MySpace, but until my site is the number one “EricHatesYou” Google search result, there is an open invitation to the owner of this MySpace page to a beating at my house from me and 7 of my real life friends.

Do you want to know when America’s obesity epidemic started? It started with the invention of the fanny pack. No longer were people forced to carry items with their hands; they could carry them with their fannies. Now I do realize that the fanny pack has gotten its fair share of verbal abuse already but apparently it hasn’t been enough. I continue to see people wearing fanny packs as if it is a normal, okay thing to do. I have news for these people, it is not an okay thing to do. Luckily for us the majority of people who still wear fanny packs are grown men who drive minivans. This allows the rest of us to make fun of them until they retreat to their Town & Country only to pull a wad of tissues from their fanny pack so they can cry about how no one realizes how “functional” their fanny pack is. I don’t care if it has a cell phone holder. My pants have a cell phone holder too; it’s called a pocket. Learn to use your pockets like the rest of us. Maybe then you’ll graduate to normality.

Have you no shame? Where is your sense of masculinity? You must have lost it in your 167.9 cubic feet of cargo space. I suppose you can equate owning a minivan to being the effeminate friend of all of the girls in high school; you fit in so well with the female crowd that you figure you might get some action. Trust me, the only crowd you’ll be fitting in with is the soccer moms and those weird women who drive minivans though they don’t have any kids and even then, they’ll discriminate against you because you don’t have a uterus. Grow a pair and buy a real car. And for those of you who think you’re finding a loophole by buying a crossover vehicle, you aren’t. You are still less of a man for buying one.

I don’t give a crap if you TiVo Anderson Cooper 360 on a daily basis; I hate Anderson Cooper. No self respecting journalist would be caught dead wearing a polo shirt, jeans and a pair of Doc Martens but Anderson Cooper is apparently sponsored by Ralph Lauren. People used to watch the news for the news. Now they turn on AC360 to see a self righteous farce that barely categorizes as journalism.

I’m always hearing, “How can you hate Anderson Cooper? He’s such a handsome man.” Personally, I don’t see the attraction. You are 40 Anderson Cooper. Dye your hair like every other 40 year old who goes gray at an early age. I don’t give a damn if they call you CNN’s Silver Fox; it doesn’t make you look edgy, it makes you look like a fool. Those who report the news shouldn’t be attractive. Since when did news become entertaining instead of informative? People who report the news should look like this:

and not this:

Yes, I hate you dear reader. Why do I hate you? If you are depraved enough to be reading the rantings of a person you’ve never met, you qualify as a person I love to hate. Stop it. Close your browser now and save yourself from being offended.