And yet I feel like I can't say them to anyone.

BOLLOX TO LIVERPOOL!!!

I thought about when I would next write in my journal, and for a while there I really didn't feel like writing anymore. I appreciate a joke just like everyone else, but I wasn't really expecting to have my hopes played with in that way. Really sort of makes me not want to be such an agreeable guy anymore and reverting to stone cold dickhead Jason, who everyone likes more anyway.

In fact, I wonder anymore if having a bad attitude is an issue. There are plenty of people out there who have absolute garbage attitudes about life, who toy with emotions, act like entitled snots, behave like hypocrites, never grow up, and seemingly they get plenty of ass and plenty of joy out of life. Maybe I'm just having a bad mood.

I just wrote a fairly large rant that I have to say was high quality, but I had to delete it. I feel good enough just getting certain things off my chest, reading it, then getting rid of it. Want the gist? Being classy has to do with who you are, not what you wear, what you drink, where you hang out, and who you hang out with. That stuff is just superficial bullshit, and only a total fucking idiot could lick her friend's tit, suck off the doorman, put the pics up on MySpace, and then claim she is classy because of the outfit she wore or the martini she was drinking. So many girls are straight up DIRT but pretend to be classy. Ish Ish Ish Ish.

Maybe this can actually be productive, and we can finally admit what is Classy, versus what is Klassy.

Straight off of the front page of the Snooze, something I've addressed before, and am about to revisit: The way boys lag behind in education, from the cradle to graduation, due to weird social engineering practices.



Well, the instant you try to say there is an inherent difference between boys and girls, the PC crowd gasps and the Rad-Fems start burning bras. Larry Summers got ambushed, castigated, and kicked out of Harvard for such a thing. People are now, at a trickle, starting to understand this stuff as basic fact, especially when the results don't match the intent, much to the chagrin of the social engineers.

I'm not all that convinced that schools are actually going to do anything about it. They ask why the results are the way they are, give themselves the answer, and then ask what the answer is all over again, all in the same article!

I don't think there is any feasible way to help the situation right now. The social climate has to be corrected first, and that is almost an impossible hurdle to overcome. Nobody is ever going to believe that little boys are getting screwed over, no matter how many simple, black-and-white facts you give to them. Boys are savage brutes, from birth till death, they're just not willing to learn like girls learn, they're not willing to put in the effort to be like girls, and that's all you need to know.

Maybe the schools will surprise me. Maybe. I doubt it. Whenever you do something to help boys, you are charged with trying to screw over girls. The political implications are impossible to ignore.

Here are some possible future implications of this trend:
1) Far less Marriages overall in America
2) Men have less money, but forced to keep all social expectations
3) Lots of single 35 year old women (Where's my Mr. Big? Waah.)
4) Nice, stable crime and incarceration rates for males
5) Even wider gender gaps in college and post-grad admissions
6) Worst of all, more boys may give up entirely on education

Well, who cares I guess? It's only little boys who are getting the short end. We can just shuffle them off to prison, or to trade school for jobs that are going to Mexico. Yay boys!

Oh. Em. Gee. We went to Allentown tonight, and I saw this horrible vision of hipsters, wannabe trophy wives (the same whores who you see at Cecelia's every Monday), and various hangers-on from across the street. I think the place was called Sample, the same joint (based upon numerous e-strip reviews) famed for their underwhelming martinis. Holy shit. Holy shit. And there seem to also be some other new joints that cater to those pencildicks too, scattered along Allen and whatnot. We need another martini bar like we need a colonoscopy, or a brain tumor, or a knife through the penis.

Now, us being us, we went straight for the Pink, which thank Jeebus is still the most interesting place to witness various types of foul behavior, and we weren't disappointed. Drug dealers, let me tell you right now, when you hand off a "cigarette box" to another person, we all know you aren't passing cigarettes, you coke-polluted twats. We also know that girl you're with isn't with you because of your charm. Okay, I know I'm being harsh here, okay, and the targets are far too easy. Shit, alright, I'll stop.

We kicked much ass on the dart board, confirming our ownership of the dart board at the Pink. Oh, it was so gratifying, dickhead whispering bullshit into my ear like "Oh, that was good" after I missed my bullseye attempts. Sure, I'll put two in my pocket, keep one, and win the game on you assholes. Oh lord. Yeah, maybe next time fellas!

Good night!