Yeah, yeah, I know… I don’t write nearly enough blog posts these days to help you stave off that metastasizing void you feel growing within your soul each day you punch through another 24 mind-numbing hours living here on Planet Stupid, but I haven’t given up on my convoluted attempt to inspire you dumbass motherfuckers to discover your greatness.
[Editor’s Note: Tony Robbins will never be in danger of you usurping him as a motivational speaker]
I don’t have a particular rant I want to get into at the moment, but I need to address a couple issues that my flunkey tech-guy failed to bring to my attention as he moderated this website for the last 7 years.
[Editor’s Note: Umm, you are the flunkey tech-guy, you schizophrenic fuck!]
When something works, I tend not to fuck with it. When my machines ask me to upgrade to the latest plugin, or most advanced security protocol, or newest OS named after a land animal more ferocious than the last, I mostly choose to ignore their lewd advances upon my technologically fragile ego.
Every update seems to fuck something else up.
But it’s come to my attention that the COMMENT|RESPONSE|CONTACT|LEAVE A MESSAGE|TELL ME ABOUT YOUR BULLSHIT LIFE|FUCK YOU buttons are currently dysfunctional, and most likely have been for a loooong while…
Yeah, I’ll prolly get mess fixed at some point, but just want you to know that I’m not ignoring dialogue with anyone who thinks their banter is wittier than mine, nor am I censoring douchebags who feel the need to point out the dysfunctional and retarded nature of my brain. I love that shit. It’s possible I adjusted some kinda spam filter that unintentionally shut the digital door to the masses, so don’t take offense to not being able to showcase your super savvy use of creative remarks, retorts, and/or insults that you’ve felt compelled to share.
Anyhoo, this idiotic project has always been about transparency — and there’s a vulnerability that comes with speaking from the heart and sharing personal stories and idiotic philosophies. Many a time it’s been hard to hit that Publish button, knowing my fears and insecurities will dance perpetually in cyberspace until an EMP, solar flare, or Jesus interjects with a much needed reset to our unhealthy technological dependency. But sometimes ya gotta roll the dice, and see where the madness takes you, most times realizing that facing the thing you were scared shitless of turned out to be the best therapeutic moment you didn’t have to pay some asshole 300 bucks an hour to discover.
And just so you know I ain’t full o’ shit when I talk transparency, you can skip the BonerFruit middle man if you wanna hit the source…
Michael Ciupka:
Ph: 519-697-0673
E-mail: ciupka666@gmail.com
Address: 28A Anglesea St. Goderich, ON
Fax: fuck, I can’t remember
Ignore me, call me, text me, mail me some roses or a pipe-bomb or a haiku about pigeons fucking on the beach, whatever, that shit is up to you.
I usually like to end blog posts with a witty quip or a one-liner that ties all the bullshit together, but I have a better idea…
See if you can watch this clip with your empathy glasses on, not thinking “what the flying fuck is going on???” but realizing someone wrote this because they truly believed their wildest dreams of being a successful actor/writer would eventually come to fruition…
Good luck…
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