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So I joined the depressed youth of america...

I apologize to everyone who thought that I was better than this, but I caved in and got a blog. My very own place to post the vague coming and goings that occur in my daily life. My own modernist attempt to glorify minute details. Take THAT James Joyce! Pretty soon, Max Davison will be the hero of the working class instead of that advertising agent from Dublin, Leopold Bloom. Sorry, but my inner Lit major broke out of his shell and took over the keyboard. I'm normally not that strange, although I do have a penchant for the Irish.
Now on to the important question: Why did I decide to get a blog? Why did I decide to equate myself with the depressed, Donnie Darko-worshiping, Chuck Palahniuk-reading sector of our generation who hates the Rainbow-wearing, Halo-playing, Abercrombie fanatics who run wild on college campuses? There are two good reasons, and one not so good one. I'll start with the valid reasons.
1) I got very tired of waiting for one, Mr. David Delgado of Miami, Florida, to update his blog. It's been well over a week and it's just frustrating. Other, more responsible bloggers, such as Jack Evert of Woodinville, give bored college students (such as myself) something to read every day. I wanted to give something back to the world...in text form, so I decided to become a responsible member of the online community. The internet gives us great power. And as Uncle Ben taught us, "With great power comes great responsibility."
As for the second good reason...
2) I'm a Lit major who likes to write...but my classes do not give me a lot of ways to express myself via the written word. As a matter of fact, I have way too much free time on my hands (this could be seen as Reason 2.5 to start a blog). I have an ongoing diary, but I figured that I should share some of my random miscellany with the world. There are plenty of interesting/witty/dead sexy facts/comments that I make that would subsequently make the world a better place.
And now for the reason which isn't as admirable as the previous two.
3) The past week has been excellent. Papers have come back well. My bench is increasing. I just found out that there's a RUBIO'S in La Verne. I'm going to take on the 7x7 at In-n-out. UCLA lost. All of these topics will be covered in future blog entries. And then something happened to put a harsh spin on the situtation. Namely, those creatures with XX chromosomes that are more endearingly referred to as "women."
All of my pent up sexual frustration could come out in one of three ways: I could get angry and do a lot of push-ups (which I did). I could also cry myself to sleep while listening to 'Every Rose Has Its Thorn' by Poison (which I may or may not have done. I won't admit to anything). The third way is to write. This blog should give me a good medium to distract myself from my situation.


ANYHOO....time for my first witty remark.

Have you noticed that people have no idea how to spell the word "ludicrous" thanks to the rapper? I, in fact, had to double check the spelling on both Wikipedia.org and Dictionary.com. Ludicrous. Not so difficult. A little tricky when you come to the ending. Words that end with the suffix -ous can occasionally be tough. Phonetically, it shoulds like "us." The "o" should be excluded.
"Ludacris" on the other hand is much more pleasing to spell. Were this a kindergarten class and I were the strange teacher with red hair and questionable taste in floral patterned dresses, I'd ask you to sound the word out. "Lud....a.....cris." It works. It's easier. It makes sense phonetically.
BUT IT'S INCORRECT!
As proven by history, you cannot trust rappers with your syntactical and grammatical logic. Snoop Dogg??? Sorry, your royal stoned-ness. Dog only has one g. "Whom am is?" That makes no sense whatsoever! What happened to the good old days of the Sugar Hill Gang, who could be "bad" and "tight" and "boss" without having to resort to trendy misspellings and contractions? That was when rap was about finding interesting words that rhyme.
The good old days.
But now, Ludacris has bastardized a word that I held dear to my heart. Ludicrous speed was an integral part of Mel Brooks' masterpiece "Spaceballs." I used to be able to say "You're acting ludicrous" or "The assumption that nothing but tax cuts will save the economy is ludicrous" or "$1 fish tacos at Rubio's today? That's ludicrous!" Now, whenever I use the word, the uninformed idiots known as "society" assume that I'm talking about that hip-hop thug who told all the bitches of the world to Move and Get Out the way.
Similar to how Homer Simpson wanted gay people to stop using the name Lance, I want this rapper to relinquish control over this amazing collection of letters. The fact that 5 year olds can't spell "ludicrous" correctly is well......ludacris.

And that is my Dennis Miller-esque rant on why I dislike Ludacris. More fun to come. Same Bat-Time, Same Bat-Channel.

By the way, if David Delgado is reading this, UPDATE YOUR BLOG.

Peace.

Comments

Anonymous said…
Oh, Max baby. Call me whenever you need some XX.

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