I'm Not Dead!

Not that you care anyway. NOBODY UNDERSTANDS MY PAIN *teenage angst*

So. for all you out there wondering why I'm not writing (It means a lot to me that at least one person asked) it's because I'm a lazy fuck working undercover for the government, trying to foil an Illuminati terrorist attack. That, and I'm a lazy fuck. So, I decided to briefly write my writing plans here for all to see:

1. An article I'm working on for Gunaxin, after all these months. I got the idea and very, very, very loose plan all worked out.

2. Enter that school writing competition and win, because I'm the J. D. Salinger, God rest his soul, of writing.

3. Stop being a lazy fuck and actually update this once a week like I promised. It's not supposed to be this fucking hard.

4. Play the shit out of Mass Effect 2.


That last one isn't related to writing, but I felt you should know why I won't be able to hold up a single one of these goals.

Dan Brown is Fat, or Lying to the Dumb

Booyeah, Bitches! I am back! For now. Who knows how long it'll take until I lapse into my near comatose state of inactivity?

Anyways, I decided to write to you today about another inconsequential thing that makes me angry way out of proportion: Dan Brown. "Why is that," you may ask yourself. "He's just an author." Well, you know who else was an author? Charles Manson, probably. Also Hitler and Richard Dawkins. So just writing books can make you a twisted fuck. But what do his books do, then? Well I'm glad you asked, hypothetical reader. He commits an egregious sin: He lies to the dumb. Misinformation, in all its forms, weakens science, makes learning a greater challenge than it already is, and is totes gay, bro. If you've read any of his books, you'll know the main attraction is the whole "Huh, I didn't know that before" factor, and peppering facts and trivia with more interesting stuff is perfectly fine. Hell, that's the whole hook of Cracked, except replace "interesting stuff" with dong jokes and pictures of boobs. The problem is, this douche doesn't actually teach you a goddamn thing. Yes, despite the huge disclaimer at the beginning (this one):

FACT:

The Priory of Sion—a European secret society founded in 1099—is a real organization. In 1975, Paris's Bibliothèque Nationale discovered parchments known as Les Dossiers Secrets, identifying numerous members of the Priory of Sion, including Sir Isaac Newton, Botticelli, Victor Hugo, and Leonardo da Vinci.

The Vatican prelature known as Opus Dei is a deeply devout Catholic group that has been the topic of recent controversy due to reports of brain-washing, coercion, and a practice known as "corporal mortification." Opus Dei has just completed construction of a $47 million National Headquarters at 243 Lexington Avenue in New York City.

All descriptions of artwork, architecture, documents, and secret rituals in this novel are accurate.


The whole book is a load of arse bollocks. Yes, ass balls. I'm being creative with my swears today. The Priory of Sion was a hoax a fat guy made up in the late 1950's, Opus Dei is a pretty normal Catholic Sect and the only controversy about them brain-washing, coercing or mortificating themselves corporally was started by our friend Dan Brown (Or should I say Dan SUCK? Definitely not, that is absolutely horrible. Just like DAN BROWN! BUUUURN!) And  as for the last part? I'll just direct you to this ten thousand word Wikipedia article listing all it's inaccuracies, backed up by credible sources.

This also extends to his other works: Angels and Demons seems almost like a parody. When I was watching it, I burst laughing at the point the Hadron Collider is introduced and was smirking like the smug douche-bag I am throughout. All the bullshit about "The Illuminati" (though SPOILER ALERT the nuke the Vatican plan wasn't actually theirs) ever actually being any kind of conspiracy, an understanding  of antimatter only slightly greater than any given episode of Star Trek and the whole "We don't understand how live-feeds work or how easy they are to track" and the patently absurd idea that the Large Hadron Collider actually works.

The man is full of shit, is what I'm trying to get across. He puts no effort into researching yet claims that everything mentioned in his books is true, 'cept for Langdon, a professor of "Symbology" a field that does not exist in any way.

See, the problem with lying to stupid people is that it's easy. Really, really easy. Hell, I do it almost every day. You think I fact-check, mateys? I pull it all out of my ass. The other thing is, lying to people makes a lot of money. Like, assloads. I've never exploited it that way, but some have, really successfully. Like Christianity. ZING! Anyways, it does so because it costs no resources, requires little effort, and the "facts" can be made as interesting or shocking as you want. And that's slowly poisoning our collective knowledge. And that's terrible.

I promise to get into more of a routine again, and have funnier stuff than this one. The subject isn't inherently funny, and it's pretty hard to get it to be. Peace.

Christ. Updates, Right?

Jesus, time sure does fly when you are doing everything except updating your blog, doesn't it? Sure, it's easy to say "I'll update the site every week" but then BAM, reality hits your face like a cinderblock to a hippie. The truth is that while writing is a thing I enjoy very much, it still takes effort. Very little effort, yes, but more effort than, say, shooting Nazi's in Call of Duty: WaW, making a depressingly complex contingency plan in the astronomically retardedly slim chance (as slim as your [valued relative/significant other] isn't. ZING!) that zombies exist and are an actual threat(coming up soon by the way. Hark at the insane man, won't you?) , or just counting the seconds to your eventual death and debating whether or not to pull the trigger (the classic Finnish past time).

Writing this, I came to the depressing conclusion that there isn't a single person in the world wondering "Oh no! Finlander hasn't updated recently. That makes me sad because I love everything he writes and wish to see more." On the other hand I'm happy simply because nobody thinks in such a retarded way.

So, I'm writing this half-assed thing to excuse my writing, but who am I excusing it to? Me. No-one else. I had to write something, or I'd never live it down. It's hard enough living through life having to constantly drown the sounds of "BURN THEM BURN THEM BURN THEM ALL BAPTISM THROUGH FLAME THE TRUE PATH TO CHRIST IS THROUGH COMPLETE IMMOLATION" and "You do realise you are nowhere near as smart as you think, right? You have an unhealthily high view of your self. Look at you, you jackass, you can't even spell yourself right" to deal with another one saying "You couldn't keep a simple promise you made to your fictional fans. You said you'd write, and you didn't. Instead you ate sour cream & and onion chips whilst playing on your Xbox. For shame". And who knows what vital functions that petty bastard controls.





If Jere is reading this I want him to know he sucks.





Same goes for Dietle.





And that creepy juggler freak . With his damn beady eyes.