If You are Watching News Coverage of the Malaysian Plane Mystery, STOP!

That plane be gone, them folks be dead. End of chat. It is sad, it is tragic, and I feel butthurt for every family who lost someone on that plane. I wish I had the power to un-fuck that flight but sadly I do not. Last night during a temporary, murderous rage-inducing, technical snafu that occurred while retrieving a saved program from the bowels of serpent-infested Hell that is On Demand, the television was stuck on one or the other Mainstream Media for what seemed eternity. It was a panel of “experts” arguing their own narrative for what possibly happened to the disappeared airliner. My confusion lies in how this constitutes 24/7 coverage, with raging assholes doing their rage thing, for anyone outside of the immediate families, plus some investigative forces such as Interpol? Who is sitting in their living room pounding coffee saying “I am not going to fucking bed until I find out if this plane is in 11,000 pieces swirling in eddies off the coast of Tahiti, or sitting as one huge chunk at the bottom of the Indian Ocean! I owe it to the families of the victims.” The so-called experts don’t know a goddamn thing themselves and serve no purpose beyond shitting from the mouth loudly and provocatively to keep John Q Public tuned into CNBXYZ until they are so scared of phantoms they can barely go on with their lives. I beseech you, if you are glued to coverage of this tragedy that in no way affects you, do the following: turn off the TV, read a book, go for a jog, play with your kids, call your grandma (because she sure as shit needs a break from watching it herself), smoke a bowl, walk your dog, smoke a rock, clean your toilet, jerk off, make a casserole, have a drink, fight a bum, dance a jig, but please by all means stop allowing the media to feast to your latent anxieties and turn off the news. There isn’t a damn thing that can be done for the dead except to live yourself.

Of course if the Aliens return the plane sometime soon with all the passengers fully probed but otherwise in good health, there will be egg on my face. I’m prepared to deal with that.

About Zach

Male homo sapien. Warrior poet. I live in Chicago with one wife, one offspring, and Scout the dog. I enjoy various stuff. Besides skinny skiing and going to bullfights on acid, I also enjoy running, reading, drinking, eating and procrastinating on many things, such as starting this blog. I have a mom, a dad, and a younger brother who recently produced a sister-in-law. I'm the only person in my family, sister-in-law included, who doesn't have a post-graduate degree. I guess that makes me special. I grew up in a small to medium sized town in the middle of Ohio. In fact the even smaller town next door has a sign which reads "The Geographic Center of Ohio". Given this is what they choose to boast you can only imagine how exciting that town is. My town is infinitely cooler. For example on weekend nights people from my town and the surrounding villages and hamlets converge on the public square to "cruise" in their souped-up mini trucks, some bearing Confederate flags, despite growing up and living rather safely north of the Mason-Dixon line. This is high-minded stuff we're talking about here. I graduated sometime during the Clinton presidency from the local high school where I played football and participated in absolutely nothing else. This strategy paid huge dividends when I applied to numerous colleges on the eastern seaboard which were highly selective. When you show up to the admissions table with "HIgh School Football and Nothing Else" on your application, you get respect. After graduating from Ohio University with a degree in Economics that I've used for absolutely nothing, I moved to Boston. Boston is a lovely city. I was doing things I'm not proud of for beer money and I left after 16 months. My next move was to Chicago and 10+ years later there I still reside. I write this blog for therapeutic reasons. Much like some people paint to relax or smoke crack to unwind after a stressful day, I record my thoughts on Al Gore's World Wide Web for 9 friends, 4 family members, 1 person who accidentally clicked through after an unsuccessful Google search for something else, and a guy named Patriot1 who lives in a silver Air Stream in the Nevada desert and broadcasts his own radio show. Is there a point to all of this? I doubt it. Years ago and in a galaxy far, far away (College Park, Maryland, then Athens, Ohio) I was toying with the idea of being a journalism major. I enjoyed writing so it seemed the obvious fit. Then I attended career day and learned that journalism majors could look forward to a salary of $EA,TSH.IT per year with the promise of a fatal heart attack at 47 years of age. I'm not falling for that trick, I told them (them being no one, and told being saying it in my own mind in the shower). Approximately 15 years later here I sit declared the big winner in that battle: I never made any money doing anything else and now I'm writing entirely for free. So suck balls, journalism career day. The views expressed in this website are mine and mine entirely. I don't wish to be an even bigger black eye to my family than I probably already am. As a result of this I will never be able to run for public office and I accept that reality. But this website is a very dignified, well-dressed skeleton full of witty retorts and honorable deeds compared to the disheveled, stenching, staggering and loud skeletons who would come marching out of the closet to White Zombie's "Thunderkiss '65" if they ever unearthed the college years. So enjoy your train ride, your hangover day at work, your AA meeting or your dump. I'm here to serve.
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