Gabriel on Twilight

Simply put. Twilight makes you less of a man. If you are a man and you read twilight (or like it), well then my friend, your masculinity has taken a huge dive. Seriously. If you don’t believe me, then just think about who I am. I am a large Black man that lists Avril Lavigne, Rihanna, Fefe Dobson, Michelle Branch, and Kelly Clarkson in his favorite artist category. I know a thing or two about losing man points and street cred for things that you like, it’s understandable. Whatever, the point is, I listen to music. You twilight readers are basically reading chick porn. That’s right, don’t try to trick me with your “But Gabriel, there are vampires and werewolves!” No…there are vagpires and menstratingwolves you sandy vaginal shell.

The level of emotional content in these books is what made them so popular in the first place. One random unattractive, world of warcraft playing fem-nerd (that got dumped by her 28 year old boyfriend so that he could pursue other romantic relationships with Orihime and Sakura) picked up the book at her local comic-con. Being all emotional and vagina-ey she proclaimed to all 2 of her friends that the book was good. In usual female Oprah book club like fashion word of the mediocrity of the book spread as far as the legs of a porn star (which is very far.) Soon every literate, middle-class, White female everywhere (or at least most of them) started reading these books. Enough of these stupid people read these books to make a series of movies based off of the gothic misadventures of X chromosome and X chromosome.

FIGURE 53.1: Free with each movie ticket purchased!

Now, I know this might seem like I am being a tad judgmental on the whole thing, but hear me out. I’m right and you’re wrong. But, in case I am ever wrong about anything (except most things that I am wrong about) I pay attention to the previews for the movie on television. In the beginning it seems like the movie is going to be alright. I mean some dude smashing a car with his bare hands (maybe this was the hulk…I don’t remember.) It seemed like the holiday movie of 2008. But like most things in this world it disappointed me. Call me sexist if you want (whatever), but I hate movies without at least a moderately attractive female lead. It doesn’t take much for the female to be moderately attractive. I mean the Matrix trilogy made Carrie-Anne Moss look attractive, even though everyone in the world knew it wasn’t true. But this one chick who is the female lead in twilight is crap! By crap, I mean C-R-A-P with a capital “things that pass through your intestine into the toilet and stink for 2000 Alex.”

When I put the fact that the chick was ugly as my facebook status one of my old campers replied with “That’s how the book said she looked!” or some rendition of that awful excuse. I told her that she would understand when she was older. Dudes don’t like to watch ugly chicks do anything. Act, sing, dance, cook, clean, whatever. The directors should have stepped it up and pulled an M Night Shyamalan and gave the movie a twist! The chick could have been attractive! Or at least have had large breasts…something. Then maybe I’d be inclined to watch the ridiculous film. But because the chick is ugly, men have no reason to watch the film. And even less of a reason to read the book. You all make me sick.

Finally, I would like to put to rest any claims made by foolish menstruating idiots about twilight being better than Harry Potter. Harry Potter was brilliantly done and almost flawless from beginning to end (the 7^th book pissed me off a little bit). It has an aggregate of fans that transcend race, sex, gender, sexuality, socio-economic status and anything that would be a barrier. Twilight has yet to win over the male population, or Black folk, or lesbian females…etc. In conclusion twilight sucks so bad I didn’t even capitalize it unless it was at the beginning of a sentence. I know. I know. I’m amazing.

Gabriel on Fat People

Yes. I hath returned from the depths of graduate school applications and debating my future. But, there will be more on that later. I have to knock this post out because it is something that I feel is getting rather ridiculous. Friggin’ fat people! By fat people, I mean morbidly obese fat people. I’m fat (as you may or may not know) but I’m not like the following people I’m about to bash.

A few weeks ago I went to the mall. Seeing as how I live in the south, it is no surprise to see swarms of fat people walking around eating hotdogs and salty pretzels in the mall while they make their way to the Chinese food mall buffets. This is not uncommon. I have no problem with gluttony as long as I don’t have to deal with it (I mean, I deal with gluttony every time I am presented a bag of a random non pork Frito-lay product.) The problem that I encountered at the mall was that my fiscal future was at stake because of cinnabons…friggin cinnabons.

FIGURE 52.1: Why you won’t be able to fund college for your children…

For those of you who are confused, allow me to elaborate. My girlfriend and I were getting a cinnabon or something. This thing might have had 1000 calories in it easy. The amount of frosting they put on one of these things would be enough for a friggin birthday cake. So we split one (still fat, I know, shut up.) While we were waiting in line there was a couple (not sure if it was romantic or related…not ruling out the possibility of both since this is Kentucky) I overheard ordering six cinnabons. Not one so they could split it, not two so that they could be fat and still live to see Barack get inaugurated (hah…I had to work it in), but they got friggin’ six. Upon disbelief of the sheer obesity that it would take to stomach six of these cinnamony-trans fat palm oil laden desserts. I looked at the guy first. He was slender, tall, full head of hair, looked to be in pretty good health overall. Then I turned my attention to the woman he was with. She weighed more than I did and was in a wheelchair. I don’t know what she has been through in her life, and I don’t know how she was placed into the chair, but something tells me that it is obesity related. Normally I would have just left it at that and ignored the mismatched couple but the next exchange between the cashier and the couple was too much to ignore.

Low wage douchebag: Six cinnabuns, that’ll be <what most people who own hummers pay for gas>. Would you like extra frosting for reheating?
Fat woman: Yes.
Tall man: What? Extra frosting?
Fat woman: Yes, for reheating.
Tall man: I know…but extra frosting? Seriously?
Fat woman *now getting belligerent*: Yes! For reheating!

Now what I find funny about that wasn’t that those cinnabons most likely weren’t going to last past the exit doors of the mall, so the truth value of her reheating claim did not exist. It wasn’t that the cinnabon chain had to ask people if they needed extra frosting because they most likely got so many requests for extra frosting that they decided it’d be better just to ask the fatty fats. It was the fact that the man knew the chick was being a fatty fat, but didn’t call her out on it directly (I almost lawled my pants.) He did her a grave injustice. If there was someone around every time I wanted to buy chips that was calling me fat, I wouldn’t buy chips (well…that’s a lie, but I wouldn’t buy nearly as many.)

The example at the mall just represents what America is. Not fat…everyone knows that. But it is a costly nation. It costs so much to buy those stupid cinnabons. Only to give you heart disease, diabetes, and 7 forms of cancer just so that you can go out and waste your money and insurance buying things to help you cope with the sickness you brought on yourself by eating massive amounts of crap. To make it worse is the fact that we most likely will have socialized healthcare by the time I’m making the big bucks. So if something happens, and this fat toaster strudel eating broad can’t afford to pay for her own bills…I’ll have to just because not only can she not exercise in the gym, she can’t exercise self control either, thus effectively reducing the amount of money I can save to send my children to college and or pay for plastic surgery for my mistresses. Sorry if my republicanism came out… stupid fat people… I’m going to the gym after work.

Gabriel on Gilligan’s Island

On my walk home tonight/today/whatever you want to call pitch blackness at 7:00 PM I saw a pizza delivery boy. He got out of his beat down vehicle (I desperately need my license) and went to deliver the pizza to a welcoming home. I smelled the Papa Johns pizza (that I don’t care that much for) and it smelled pretty decent. Then I caught the smell of some pork product and it turned me off of the pizza. After that I wondered what would happen if I were trapped on an island and all I could eat was pork product pizza. I’d be like Lisa on that episode of the Simpsons when they found a boar and ate it, but she was vegetarian and had to lick slime off of a rock. That amused me for a little while and then my mind slowly drifted to the concept of being trapped on a desert island. That is when Gilligan’s Island popped into my head.

I love that show. It is amazing. But there are several things I find wrong with the show. No, not the distinct lack of Black people (lots of shows were good back then that had no Black people…much like the first two seasons of OTH…ASHLYN!), but just the questions in the show that no one (I) asked. So here goes, what is wrong with Gilligan’s Island.

Gilligan: Why did he survive until the end of the series? I mean besides the fact that his name was in the title of the show. He definitely should have been beaten and locked in a cage for how many times he screwed up their opportunities to get off of the island. The only logical thing that makes sense is that he screwed this up on purpose in hopes of losing his virginity while on the island because in the real world he was too much of a screw up to trick some unsuspecting female into dropping them drawz. Well…that and myspace hadn’t been invented yet.

The Skipper: Why was he still fat (I swear in one season he was actually fatter) if he was on an island where the only thing he ate was coconut products and fruit? That doesn’t make sense. He was on a desert island and it seemed like he was on a dessert island. I’m fat, if I went to an island with nothing to eat but organic all natural products I would stake my best friend’s first born son on my fat behind losing massive amounts of weight and having my beard become even more magnificent.

FIGURE 51.1: What I would look like if I was on a desert island.

Thurston Howell III and gold-digging wife: These people were just obnoxious douchebags. It was like if they came from an elitist society where he was born into money and she slept her way into money. Anyway, all they did was talk about how they were rich and count their money on the island. I find it funny that all those suitcases of money that they had were useless because they were on an island that hadn’t been turned into a luxury resort (during the original run of the series pre-the made for TV movies.) Their suitcases full of money were reminiscent of the value that the American dollar is in relation to other superpower currency. Also, I found it odd that a rich old White guy was on a three hour tour with a female that was his actual wife. In real life, that crap wouldn’t have gone down. Thurston would have been plowing through a plethora of snowbunnies (and a few coco puffs to cure that itch I know he had from the stories of his slave owning grand pappy.)

FIGURE 51.2: The person he would have been with in real life…had she been alive.

The Professor: This guy was like friggin’ MacGyver, except he wasn’t because my dude RDA would have figured out a way off that floating dirt mound…or he would have called Col. Carter to help him out a little bit. But aside from the Stargate references, what did the professor profess? Was he a professor of nuclear physics? Of chemistry? Of biology? Because he has displayed a mastery of all of the above. Maybe the professor was just some douchebag that had a lot of books at his disposal and really wasn’t a professor of anything. Seriously though, that guy was smart. Those douches on the trip were lucky to have a thinker of his caliber on that cursed boat. Imagine if some hippie that wanted to see the ocean had bought his ticket before the professor. Odds are that hippie guy probably would have been a graduate student in a social science like Sociology. Can you imagine if the professor tried to ‘help’ the others on the island with a BA in Sociology?

“Hey professor, why am I getting scurvy?”
“Oh, that’s easy Gilligan, it has to do with the strain that society has placed upon your shoulders.”
“Wow, professor, that sounds like a crock of crap,”
“No, it isn’t. Durkheim feels than anomie affects everyone in a society where the division of labor isn’t as it should be.”
“What does that mean?”
“It means you should do my chores this week”
“Hey professor…”
“What Gilligan”
“Lick my balls”.

Ginger vs. Mary Ann: Mary Ann wins. Ginger was a red headed slut with barely any body shape and a very pale face. She was high maintanence and had a diva like attitude. It would be like dating Beyonce except without having a rich, famous, and attractive girlfriend. I mean staying on the island would be enough to force you to want to give it to Ginger, but that’s pretty much it. Mary Ann on the other hand was down to earth, nicer, could cook, was tanned AND thick, and wore better clothes. I’d let Mary Ann bare some of my mullato children. Every man on that island was dumb as crap for not trying to get with her. Plus from one of the episodes I remember she was single BEFORE the island. Dudes are dumb.

And thus concludes my three hour ramble.