of emily gould. Seriously, who gives a shit about some obnoxious brat who wrote for some ridiculous blog? These things don’t matter. But most of all, I’m pretty fed up with having to look at her flip me off from the front of my blog every time I come here to remind myself that I have nothing to say. Your rebelliousness is not edgy or transgressive, it isn’t impressive, it isn’t cool, it isn’t funny and it isn’t even cute. It’s stupid.

So even though I have nothing to say (evidenced by the month between posts), I’m just gonna keep typing here until I feel like there might be enough words to drive that fantastically obnoxious picture right below the figurative fold. Who shot that piece of crap anyway? Was it some special team of NASA scientists committed to condensing self-satisfied arrogance into a space-shuttle worthy mini-packet of mission-suitable awful? Was it some alien life form attempting to catalogue with a single image the most important reason to steer the flying saucer right around this solar system? Was it an idiot man / chimp hybrid desperately flailing at the buttons of a digital camera that he fears and will never understand? Was it your mom? What the fuck?! Who told this woman that those sunglasses looked good? She looks like the most obnoxious girl in your high school drawing class. Why didn’t the photographer feel some sense of duty toward all humanity and just push this obnoxious Internet non-celebrity right off that building into the throngs below? Doesn’t he understand that the only thing needed for evil to triumph is for good men to do nothing?

Did Emily Gould ever win a Quadfecta Trivia Tournament of Champions? Even if she did, did she look deep into her heart and realize that—no matter how many bar trivia tournaments she sweeps—she is still a disgusting, self-absorbed narcissist. (It’s not redundant to put those two together when either “self-absorbed” and “narcissist” alone would fail to convey the true scale of the massive, putrid, unbridled ego on display.) I did win a Quadfecta Trivia Tournament of Champions, but none of you knew that, because I didn’t make a big goddamned fuss about it, on this blog or anywhere, even though it’s arguably a greater achievement than getting evicted from the Gawker Blog Sweatshop for being too smug for even the Internet. I’ve gotten better achievements than that just from looking at an Xbox 360 from across the room. Remember, not 2 months ago, when you could come to this site and see the ebullient faces of Stevie Wonder, George Clinton, Sly Stone and Brit Winterknee smiling up at you? You’d listen to their music and absorb their joy and then muster the strength to make it through another day? Yeah, well, I promise, those days are coming back. And the first step is to drive that self-satisfied smirk deeper into the shit-can of the web, back with the imbedded midis, gif animations and the rest of the waste from another more obnoxious Internet era. Say goodbye, Emily Gould, you’ve been flushed.