First and foremost, thanks for reading. I’m hoping through this blog to share stories from my life exactly as they happen in real time. I’m looking here to write a transparent, unfiltered, truthful account of my life. I want future generations to be able to look back upon these writings and know exactly what kind of a person that I was, to be able to understand precisely how I lived my life. I’d like for my great-great-great-great grandchildren to study them carefully, religiously, and to share my wisdom with everyone they meet. If somewhere down the line, my family breaks up into two rival camps, each claiming that they hold the true message of what it is I’m trying to say here, I’d like to settle that argument right now: the traditionalists are right, and the reformers have gotten it all wrong. Stay on point descendants! I’m leaving absolutely nothing up for interpretation. Just as the title implies, everything that is written here is one hundred percent true. Totally accurate. If you read it and say to yourself, “he must be trying to say something broader through his words,” you’re wrong.
I hope that you enjoy reading what you find here. I also hope that you’ll pick a few of your favorite posts each week and commit them to memory. If it’s not too much to ask, I’d like for you to, every Friday night, call up a random number on your phone without looking it up, just literally seven random numbers, and just start reciting what you’ve memorized. If nobody answers, leave a message. If you’ve accidentally dialed a fax machine, and you’re hearing that screeching in your ear, I urge you not to hang up. That’s just the universe’s way of telling you that you’ve probably messed up the memorization, and that this is your punishment. Stay on the line and do the best you can. I’m sure something will print out on the other end.
But that’s a very hypothetical situation anyway, because there really aren’t too many fax machines still plugged in to independent lines. If anything, someone might hook one up for just a second to receive a very specific fax, before unplugging it and telling their secretary to go put it back. “What do you mean, put it back?” they’ll ask their boss, “I don’t even know where you found this thing in the first place. Can’t you just put it back? It’s all dusty and gross.” Bosses usually hire low-level employees to avoid exactly this type of grunt work, but low-level hires are usually the types that are constantly complaining about having to do their terrible jobs. Well that’s what I used to do when I worked in an office job, which is probably why I currently work in a restaurant. So when someone’s raising their hand across the room asking for more ketchup I can just tell a busboy to go do it.
If you’re currently reading this from China, I’d like to extend my sincere thanks to the Communist Party for permitting me to be read on the Chinese Internet. I can only assume by your not blocking my access to the Chinese people that you don’t consider me a threat to the stability of your regime. Big mistake you ignorant fools.
If you’re reading this from Libya, listen, I’m really sorry for all the late night phone calls, but I keep having these weird dreams where Qaddafi is contacting me from the beyond, ordering me to keep his message alive. I know it’s crazy, but his threats seem as real to me in my dreams as they must have felt to all of you in real life.
If you’re reading this from Canada, welcome to the Internet! It’s basically just a network of computers hooked up through servers sharing lots and lots of information.
If you’re reading this in the future, please reread this post a few more times. I’m sure English has changed dramatically, and only through vigorous study will you really get at the point of what I’m trying to say.
If you’re reading this from the past, please call me up and warn me not to drink that bottle of Clamato on March 13, 2012. Thanks.