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Tag Archives: making excuses

No Burnout For These Burnouts

13 Thursday Sep 2012

Posted by Smaktakula in Culture

≈ 35 Comments

Tags

audiobooks ruin lives, burnouts, Information Revolution, lazy people, making excuses, outright lies, stump humping

By Smaktakula

We Meant “Burnout” As In ‘Lazy Stoner.’ No, Whatever This Guy’s Issues Were, He Was Definitely A Do-er.

One of the most paradigm-shifting developments of the Information Revolution has been often cacophonous proliferation of voices on the internet, from all walks of life and from the furthest reaches of the globe. Nowhere is this more apparent than in the blogosphere, where the informed and the uninformed alike have an equal voice and a platform from which they can not only shine the light of truth on the critical issues of the day, but also obfuscate those very same issues through a crippling and tragic idiocy, or simply take the middle path and make a bunch of shit up.

Artful Mendacity Requires Skill, Craftsmanship And Dedication. Truth Demands Only Honesty, And Any Idiot Can Do That.

It would seem there are as many different variety of blogs as there are people. From hard-hitting news to cookie-decorating tips; from photo galleries of painstakingly recreated and exquisitely detailed Smurf villages to erotic furry fan-fiction; from family-friendly stories about alpaca ranching to sites dedicated to poetry and short-fiction set in the world of amputee fetishism (‘stump humping’).

The Vagaries Of Human Sexuality Are Baffling, But Believe It Or Not, Some People Find Images Like This To Be Amputitillating.

But for all their variety, blogs can really be summed up into two very distinct categories: those which quickly peter out and those which don’t. All things end, but some things end earlier than others, and while everyone has something to say, it seems most people don’t have all that much. Usually these blogs simply end, with the mystery blogger sinking back into the vast anonymous internet soup from which he was first spawned. Occasionally, however, the soon-to-be-ex-blogger will post a final apologetic note blaming burnout.

This is not one of those posts. Don’t worry–as my high school teachers so often sought to remind me, I’m going nowhere.

We Don’t Plan To.

Lately I haven’t been around as much as I’d like. I’ve had to slightly reduce the frequency of my posts (which you probably haven’t noticed) and have been even more tardy than usual about reading and commenting on other sites (which you likely have). Friends, it’s not you, it’s me.

Don’t Get Excited Folks; We’re Not Going Anywhere.

Although I have on many occasions been described unflatteringly as a burnout, the unquenchable fountain of wrong-headed ideas still burbles implacably in the recesses of my brain, demanding that I give it voice. Moreover, with the precarious state of world affairs, it is no exaggeration to say that humanity more than ever needs Promethean Times’ unwavering message of positivity and love.

We’re Boiling Over With Hot, Sticky Affection. Is It So Wrong That We Want To Share It With You?

I understand this awesome responsibility, and take it seriously. However, as some of you already know, some career goals toward which I have been working over the past two years have begun rapidly to bear fruit, which has proved an unexpected (although by no means unwelcome) distraction. While it’s true that I am a man of a great many enviable talents, time-management is not among these, and has further confounded my efforts to engage with the greater blogging community.

Yeah, In The Same Way Smart People Love The Illiterate Folks Who Fry Up Their Burgers.

Since I don’t plan to go anywhere, you may wonder why I mention this at all. You’ll still see regular posts on Promethean Times, and although I’ll continue to be among the last to comment both here and on other sites, you’ll still see me hanging around your blogs like a pervert skulking behind the elementary school at 3:00 PM.  The reason I’m telling you this now is so that I can stop fucking apologizing for my late comments.

Much love.

You May Not See Us Around Quite As Much, But We See You. And When You Least Expect It, We’ll Reach Out To Touch You In A Very Personal Way.

Promethea Culpa

17 Thursday May 2012

Posted by tardsie in Crime, Culture, History, News

≈ 15 Comments

Tags

apology, avoiding responsibility, guns, hypocrisy, irresponsible speech, Kate Gosselin, making excuses, overreaction, Promethea Culpa, retraction, RUN BITCH! RUN!, Sarah Palin, shame campaign, Tuscon shooting, United States of America, veiled threats, violence

Originally presented Jan 18, 2011

By Tardsie

Promethean Times regrets that our clumsy handling of a recent event necessitates both a clarification and an apology.  We have entered an age in which our words take on meanings not originally intended, and where the line between free speech and incitement has grown perilously thin.

Sarah To Kate: “RUN, BITCH! RUN!” By Which She Means ‘Run For Elected Office.’ Sarah Thinks Kate Is Just Swell.

Recent violence in the United States compels us to reexamine a December 27th Promethean Times piece, Plan To Strand Palin, Gosselin In Alaskan Wilderness Unsuccessful.  In the aforementioned piece, we depicted a gun-toting Sarah Palin above the caption ‘Many People Hoped That This Image Would Be The Last Thing To Go Through Kate Gosselin’s Mind Before The Bullet.’

We’re confident most readers understood that our intention, however ham-handed in its execution, was to express the hope that an image of her friend Sarah Palin went through Kate Gosselin’s mind rapidly–as in, with the speed of a bullet. We did not mean to imply or depict, as some readers clearly believe, any intended violence from Palin toward the talentless reality star.  This erroneous assumption is bolstered by our choice of image, and in this, we probably chose unwisely.  If we had to do it again, would most likely not choose a picture of Palin with an automatic weapon, and definitely not one in which the former vice-presidential candidate is taking direct aim at the viewer.

We want to be perfectly clear: the error was inadvertent.  Although as a staff we are stunned that anyone would believe Promethean Times capable of such a gross breach of our journalistic responsibilities, we acknowledge that through our own actions, we bear at least some culpability for the confusion.

“I’ve Got A Shotgun Shell Here With Kate’s Name On It. As A Present, Of Course. I Did The Engraving Myself. You Betcha!”

We very  much regret that Promethean Times‘ ambiguous phrasing caused alarm among a portion of our more sensitive readers, and in the future will endeavor whenever possible to eschew confusing, convoluted–and seemingly interminable–sentences which, through their various levels of syntactic abstraction not only serve to baffle a reader, but also sorely test his or her patience with the writer’s self-indulgent, pointless and increasingly wearisome verbal prestidigitation; instead, in such situations where previously we might have employed so confusing and unnecessarily-elaborate a syntax, we henceforth shall strive mightily to use only the most concise, clearly-worded and straightforward sentence structure in both the hope and belief that in doing so, such plain grammar will not only help to mitigate the very real possibility of further confounding the reader and thereby abrogating our journalistic mandate to effectively impart an intended message, but also–and by no means less importantly–to be more thoroughly satisfying for the reader.

For reals.

“KILL SMAKTAKULA! With Kindness. You’ve Heard That Expression, Right?”

Helpful Hints For Everyday Life: Photographing Your Junk

17 Thursday Nov 2011

Posted by Smaktakula in Culture, News, Stupidity

≈ Leave a comment

Tags

Don't touch my junk!, helpful hints, inappropriate pictures, Indiana Whitesnake, making excuses, photographing genitalia, photography, Why am I so stupid?

By Smaktakula

This Achieves The Same End, And Unless You Work For The Citrus Growers Association, Is Not Likely To Get You Fired.

If you’re the kind of dude who photographs and then texts pictures of his genitals, we have a hint for you.  Given the likelihood that your boudoir photos will someday resurface to potentially ruin your life, why not take precautions now to mitigate that eventual crash?

People Are Less Interested In The Indiana Whitesnake Than You Might Imagine.

We recommend making it a habit to carry your cell phone in your crotch.  When people inevitably ask you why you do it, say, “I know it sounds crazy, but a cell phone, like the human body, functions best at 98.6 degrees.”  Those to whom you pass on this fib will either swallow it whole or else believe you to be a drooling moron.  Either way they’ll likely leave you alone about it.  And by carrying your phone in your crotch–and more importantly being known as the kind of jackass who carries his phone in his crotch–you’ll provide your eventual excuse–‘Golly, I don’t know how that happened!‘–with just a smidgen of believability.

Are We Wrong To Want To Preserve Some Of Life's Delicate Mystery?

Snowboarder’s Empire Could Go Up In Smoke

03 Monday Jan 2011

Posted by Smaktakula in Celebrity, Sport

≈ 11 Comments

Tags

Arturo the Intern, athletes, Baja Fresh, bong, Canada, cannabis, Corn Nuts, dope, Flying Tomato, Funyuns, gingers, grass, hemp, making excuses, medalist, Michael Phelps, Olympic Committee, Olympics, poppyseed bagels, pot, Red Vines, reefer, Ross Rebagliati, Shaun White, snowboarders, snowboarding, sticky-icky super-chronic, stoners, sweet sweet cheeba, THC, United States of America, weed, Weedies, Xbox

By Smaktakula

Just Take A Look At The Man--He's High Right Now!

Michael Phelps’ fall from grace and subsequent loss of several lucrative endorsement deals after being photographed pulling on a bong must send a chill through the athletic community, particularly among those athletes in low-paying sports who depend on endorsements to maintain their lifestyle.  According to friends, snowboarder Shaun White is one of the athletes said to be playing on the edge.  Said an unnamed source, “We keep trying to tell Shaun that he’s just one bust away from stocking the salsa bar at Baja Fresh.”

We Sincerely Hope That Shit Was The Sticky-Icky Super-Chronic, Mike, Considering What It Cost You.

Promethean Times managed to secure an interview with the Flying Tomato at the athlete’s home.   Although our intern, Arturo, spent over twelve hours with White, the interview tapes last only a few minutes, Arturo’s questions having to be squeezed in between White’s interminable Xbox sessions with friends, tours of his home which included views of his extensive air-freshener and incense collection, and the athlete’s repeated offers of such sundries as Red Vines, Corn Nuts and Funyuns.

The Olympic Committee Stripped Canadian Snowboarder Ross Rebagliati Of His Medal When He Tested Positive For THC. It Was Later Returned After It Turned Out That Ross Had Merely Stepped Into An Elevator Where "A Bunch Of Guys Had Just Been Getting High," Inadvertently Inhaling Some Of The Smoke. That And He'd Eaten A Poppyseed Bagel A Few Days Before. They Can Totally Mess Up A Test.

Perhaps White’s most salient insight during the interview was this:

Yeah, I’ve heard the rumors–who hasn’t?  I want to clear the air–heh–regarding this matter once and for all: I don’t smoke pot.

He went on to add:

But I saw on TV one time that for someone to overdose on marijuana they’d have to smoke a bag of weed the size of a house, and they’d have to do it in like fifteen minutes or something!

Dude, can you totally imagine a house made of pot?  That would be fuckin’ sweeeeeeeeeet!  People’d be like, “Hey Shaun, what happened to your doorknobs, man?”  And I’d be like, “I don’t know, man!”

At this one of Shaun’s friends whispered in his ear, after which the Gold-Medal ginger said:

Um, I mean just for pretend, y’know?–Completely and totally not for reals.

Hey dude, are you recording this?

Reefer Is To Snowboarders As Oxygen Is To Humans.

Of course, like anyone else, White is innocent until proven guilty.  Even if the rumors prove false, the damage has been done.  Many within the sport privately fear that recurring allegations of marijuana use among its athletes could doom snowboarding’s clean-cut image forever.

Shaun Burns The Half-Pipe, But He Shreds On A Bong.*

*You thought we’d go with the “Weedies” angle, didn’t you?  Too easy.  ∞T.

Happy Thoughts For Tuesday: Thank God Michael Lohan Isn’t Your Dad

03 Tuesday Aug 2010

Posted by Smaktakula in Cinema, Culture, Drug Culture, Drugs, General Foolishness, Hollywood, National Events, People, Relationships, Scandal, Social Networking, Television

≈ 5 Comments

Tags

avoiding responsibility, Bitch better have my money, bottom bitch, Branson, Brian Kaelin, Calcutta, cockroach, Dina Lohan, douchebaggery, famous for nothing, fare-dodgers, Fifteen Minutes of Fame, Frank Kapra, gaywads, gold digger, happy thoughts, India, It's A Wonderful Life, K-Fed, Kato Kaelin, Kevin Federline, LEAVE LINDSAY ALONE!!!, LiLo, Lindbergh Baby, Lindbergh Kidnapping, Lindsay Lohan, Lindsay Lohan's father, making excuses, massive gaywad, Michael Lohan, Michael Lohan is a turd with eyes, Missouri, parasite, Periplaneta lohanis, remora, shitty parents, social climber, Space Shuttle Challenger, suckerfish, taking responsibility, the coke favored by Clan Lohan is neither a coal by-product nor a cola, unctuous pimp, vampire

By Smaktakula

In the tradition of such illustrious space-wasters as Brian “Kato” Kaelin and Kevin “K-Fed” Federline, unctuous pimp Michael Lohan has managed to keep food in his belly by crafting a persona famous for being semi-famous.  Lohan, no doubt a subscriber to the maxim, “All Roads Lead To Branson,” evinces no embarrassment that his appropriated “career” is supported only by clinging pathetically to his out-of-control offspring with all the tenacity and class of a Calcutta fare-dodger.

Lohan: Not A Homosexual, But A Massive Gaywad Nonetheless.

With Lohan’s bottom bitch in rehab following a short stint in jail, the talentless remora’s earning power has been drastically curtailed.  Typically, a cockroach will exhaust all means of escape when caught by surprise on a brightly lit kitchen floor. Periplaneta lohanis, a rare but particularly unpleasant sub-species, displays a markedly perverse tendency to do the opposite.  Rather than flee, Lohan is attracted to anything bright and shiny, scurrying from spotlight to spotlight in a desperate effort to wring every last drop from his fifteen minutes of unearned notoriety.

In a recent interview Lohan gushed, “I definitely blame myself and take responsibility for where my daughter is.”  It is extremely unlikely that Lohan would be so quick to take responsibility for his daughter’s actions if doing so carried with it any consequences.  However, since soul-searching self-recrimination costs Lohan nothing, and is unlikely to deprive him of his freedom, he can use it as a sop to the five or six people who have somehow managed to convince themselves that this leering cretin has in any way his daughter’s interests at heart.

Bonding With The Progeny: Bitch Better Have My Money.

It is certainly true that Lohan, abetted by his despicable ex-wife Dina, was a thoroughly shitty parent, and Promethean Times would like nothing better than to assign to Lohan the blame not only for the ruination of his own daughter, but also for such varied disasters as the kidnapping of the Lindbergh Baby, the Challenger Explosion, and greenlighting  New Coke.

Moreover, you can bet that no one holds Michael Lohan more responsible for the former starlet’s wretched condition than does his daughter, who has demonstrated a nearly sociopathic refusal to accept responsibility for her actions.  Nonetheless, it must generally be agreed that at some point a 24-year old woman is responsible for her own disastrous choices. With only two or three years at most left to live, Lindsay would be well-served to spend her remaining days judiciously.  Although such an outcome is unlikely, the younger Lohan can be thankful at least that her father cannot live her life for her.

Reminiscent Of Kapra's 'It's A Wonderful Life,' Lindsay Is Given The Opportunity To See What Her Father's Life Would Be Like If She Had Never Been Born.

Despite his staggering lack of either merit or talent, Michael Lohan stands head and shoulders above the teeming legions of Hollywood hangers-on.  It’s no feat to be hated by your ex-wife, and neither does the animosity directed at Lohan by his own offspring set him apart from rank-and-file deadbeats throughout the world.  Rather, it  is his perverse compulsion to share with the world through the miracle of the 24-hour news cycle his complete and utter failure as a father, husband and human being that catapults Michael Lohan into stratospheric company among the world’s elite paragons of cretinous douchebaggery.

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