April 25, 2008 | Tags: none
At this point I’m almost glad to be a quasi-
Internets Celebrity, with all due respect to the
“founding fathers” (or something). Granted I’ll likely be unable to use this newfound “status” to convince Kerry Washington and Dania Ramírez to reenact
one of the scenes they shared in She Hate Me in the comforts of my studio apartment, but at the very least I have a legitimate reason to yoke music off the Internets without emptying my wallet for them.
By the way, that above video isn’t really safe for work, but I’m sure that won’t stop any of you from watching it. I know it didn’t stop me!
At the same time however, it’s also sort of a relief that I don’t make a substantial amount of money from my web campaigns (read: I get paid in MySpace rappers flooding my inbox with music, c-section hazing and other random acts of fuckery) for Medicare and Social Security to properly finish the job this country’s current overlord started. Perhaps this is why the government is supposedly firing off these “economic stimulus” checks to everybody in the coming months. I’d like to save that money myself, but knowing my luck (and somewhat questionable saving habits) I’ll end up buying some
stock in bullshit, leaving me with a couple of
fly sneaks but struggling to pay my rent and bills for the month.
In other words, exactly what I’ve been doing since I got out of college.
But I digress. In this day and age, I’d much rather be fending off destitution than, say, be in
Wesley Snipes’ shoes right about now. I may not be able to keep my cell phone on at times, but that’s obviously much better than getting sent up the river for a few years. Not to mention that when you don’t pocket a couple brazillion dollars for something as insidious as acting [1], you can afford to jump bail on your taxes every once in a while. It’s not like the government can take 20 percent of diddly poo anyways.
Then again, it’s probably not such a good idea to do so in the first place, seeing as how we’re all nappy-headed hoes to the government’s proverbial pimp game. What makes this even worse is that if I turn out like one of those dumbass Maury Povich cases that end up paying child support because they mistook pulling out for practicing safe sex (haven’t we all?), the dry reaming I’d receive on my already menial salary would be far worse than any kind of Club Fed iron vacation Blade is about to take for the next three winters. In that sense, maybe it’s not that cool to be a broke, quasi-misogynistic blogger at all then.
[1] Ironic how I feel that way, especially considering that the career path I’ve chosen is directly involved in television and movies. Whatever.
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