An Open Letter To Wearers of Che Guevara Emblazoned Clothing,
Stop it. You are the saddest scum of the earth, one step above the scum who actually profit from selling this shit to you. You are the scum that keeps the base scum alive and growing. Stop now.
I’ve been meaning to say this for a while, but I knew the time was ripe last week. I saw a girl on campus wearing a blue winter parka, with “GUEVARA” stitched in large letters above the trademark monochrome red and black graphic of Che. I wanted to grab her by the fake fur lining of the coat’s hood and drag her the three thousand miles south to Havana, where she would starve in the wilderness defending herself against attacking fighter planes with only a rifle until she was shot in the legs, almost dying from gangrene. Then ask her if her coat is still “in style.”
I should’ve at least asked her where she bought it, so I could burn the store down.
Ernesto Guevara de la Serna is spinning in the shallow grave he was executed in. The man wasn’t named Minister of Industries in Cuba to see his face adorned on every confused teenager desperate for a battle cry. He dedicated his life to healing and helping the poor and powerless. You are dedicating yourself to corporate masters who have molded a false revolution based on product fetishism.
The late comedian Bill Hicks said it best: "If anyone here is in advertising or marketing: KILL YOURSELF.” Similarly, I say unto you, the pacified rebels of materialism: kill yourself. I know this could be interpreted as satire, but this is no joke. There is no punch line, no ha-ha. Kill yourself.
You are the people who drive around in the same gas guzzling metal death machines with the same bumper stickers that say, “The gene pool could use a little chlorine.” You are also the same people who don’t wear condoms. You buy statues of Buddha and Jesus, and if Mohammed could be depicted you’d probably have him on the dashboard of your Ford Extinction. You’re like a punk band that changed musical genres to sell more records, fuck you! Get out of the gene pool. It’s time for adult swim.
Pathetic self-construed social deviants are one of the reasons The Struggle is dismissed as “adolescent revolutionary romanticism.” The ideology has eroded to a fashion trend. But I know a struggle remains, perhaps even in that shallow center of insatiable desire you pretend to call a mind. Let’s not pretend. You’re a victim of your own ignorance. Wake up. The symbol has lost meaning.
I wish I could believe that everyone who bears the face of Che stands in solidarity, that this is a social movement and not a fashion faux pas. But unless you liberated the sweatshop workers who stitched your clothing together, or staged a coup d’etat on the Hot Topic you bought it at, you’re plain fucking scum. You bought into the most disgusting trend in the history of marketing and political thought, aside from capitalism itself. Stop now, and maybe some redemption can be found.
Che once said, “A true revolutionary is guided by strong feelings of love,” strange words from a guerilla soldier. Jihad for God. God is Love. Love is blind. So maybe this is satire, and not just this letter. I jest because I love. I should be worried about the increasing divide between the developed "northern" countries and impoverished 3rd world nations of the "south," helping to create a true global equality in the economy. I should be donating my time to charity, not wasting breath or ink. Nah. Fuck it. I’ll stick to my guns. You suck.
Ashamedly and dejectedly yours,
Another John J. Righteous Hypocrite

P.S. I bought a shirt of Dr. Gonzo today. Who's worse?

http://translationparty.com/

This is proof that we'll never be able to communicate, with each other, ourselves, God. And that anyone who claims to possess that diplomacy is a fucking liar.

By the way:

I found the image for the title of the blog as one of the first images with photos of real people online searching for "social networking." Apparently, Google doesn't associate with anyone darker than a good high yellow piss colored lookin' muthafucka. Is that Carson Daly in the top right?

Almost 7 Billion and Dying...

...Or birthing, depending on how you want to screw everyone over.
Only 6,779,836,918 people left to add! Somebody will eventually accept me as a friend!! FIRE BAD.

CRAIGSLIST WILL DESTROY US ALL and Unicorn Art Car!

Does anybody remember the Pennysaver?
How did craigslist snake that?

Paper is dead, and so is the Printed Word.

Johannes Gutenberg leaks ink laden tears and wipes them with a digital tissue. . . So does Steve.

In Honor of Lists and The Listless

Facebook status updates you don’t want to hear

(and people have thought of writing, but haven’t):

Pinky Charlatan is yo baby mama.

Haley Comet has lung cancer.

Sarah Palin is ready to admit she is the death panels.

Martha Stew Art just lost her grandmother, and is wondering if life is as precious as the ring she just inherited. Goodbye Granny, Hello Pawnshop!

Ninny Grim has dark thoughts, and seeks the clean release of pain.

Chuck Darwin is so drunk he really shouldn’t be updating on his iphone and driving.

Pookie Jones smacks a ho!

Perjor Thinskin just ate dinner, then snuck quietly to the bathroom.

Max Powers is better than all of you, and has the money (and arrogance) to show it.

Ray Band just took all the quizzes on Facebook and earned their third party advertisers a BUTTLOAD of money! Hep-hep-hooray for free markets, invisible hands, and violation of privacy!

Conifer Blight just got out of prison again. Who’s got some weed??

Mindy Bender is on medication and can’t feel her emotions.

Barack Obama just got confused for a terrorist again.

i understand the irony of this website and the price i will pay for it...

2007 is so 1996...