Stuff I Think And Shouldn't Say: Why Must I Move So Slow?

This week’s Stuff I Think and Shouldn’t Sayis brought to you by:

MySpace.com

“Teikyo” Post University

Sunkist Orange Soda

And”¦

Mike Eagle’s Letters From Freakloud: the most thought provoking piece EVER posted on the ‘Pulse.

So, I have a job. I did get hired for the position I was going in for last week, and I have one day of training this week before I go on vacation. I don’t think that’s irony, but it’s still really awesome.

Anyway, I know I linked to Mike Eagle’s latest piece, but it really stirred something inside me, and I haven’t been the same.

I figured I would let you all in a little bit, and tell you more about my life, and not the just the funny dick and fart jokes.

But, first:

Unless you have been living under a rock for the last few years, the final installment of Star Wars is out tonight and it turns out that Anakin is Darth Vader. No shit.

I am very excited for the movie, and I pray that George Lucas gets it right, and that this movie kicks more ass than the last two. I am asking a lot, but bear in mind, I have the mind of a child, yet the intellect of a full grown adult, so there is a pretty large part of me that should be boycotting this film.

The kid in me won’t do it though. And it shouldn’t.

Revenge of the Sith is going to be fun, dark, and awesome all around, and I almost cannot wait until 10:15 p.m. to see it.

Seeing that I have to work early tomorrow morning, and I wanted to see it with my girl, who leaves tomorrow for a week or so down south on “business,” this is my only opportunity to see it before all the surprises are ruined in an issue of Entertainment Weekly.

Here is Brendan Campbell’s take on the movie. My Los Cinco Enfuegos partner, Michaelangelo McCullar chimes in with his two cents as well.

If only I had bought a watch that I could use to make time go by faster. Then I would be in the theater RIGHT NOW!

God, I am a geek.

To be fair, Star Wars very much defines a generation”¦mine. Yes, you either loved it, or you hadn’t seen it. If you said you didn’t like the movies, your friends would hold you down and make you watch Empire Strikes Back.

The script can suck, we can have pseudo-care bears and Lizard-things with Jamaican accents ruining the movies, but as far as culturally relevant movies go, if you don’t see these 6, you aren’t a true child of the 80’s.

It’s like saying you’ve never seen Goonies, The Breakfast Club, Weird Science, Sixteen Candles or The Karate Kid.

If you had to rent these movies a few years ago to “remember” them, you were born later in the decade. You didn’t grow up in the 80’s, you were merely born in them. In much the same way as me being born in 1978 doesn’t make me some hippie kid.

I grew up with He-Man, G.I. Joe, WWF, Fraggle Rock, Pop Rocks and Garbage Pail Kids.

Go see Revenge of the Sith. It’s your duty.

SITASS NEWS: Nothing so ridiculously teenage and desperate

Remember kids: Ssquared doesn’t report because he has to; he’s morally obligated.

R. Kelly is “Cooking”

(credit: Spin.com)

Well, seeing that there aren’t many sex acts that I don’t know of, I wonder who the hell wrote this bit for Spin? Who’s the Mormon?
Anyway, the fact that despite his predilection to urinating on minors before, during, and after sex (that’s a LOT of pee!) people will still buy this record.

As racially screwed up as this country is, for some reason, white folk love R. Kelly! We don’t even care if they rape women, and violate every statute there is in regards to sexual conduct, and then not only talk, but brag about it.

We love these folks. No wonder rock-slinging assholes like 50 Cent are so popular. We wish we could have come from such a bad beginning to taste superstardom.

I can just picture it now. John Q. NormalWhiteDork is sitting at home, watching BET thinking:

“Hey, selling crack sounds a lot like my paper route as a child. Ahhh, such fond memories. Honey, I am going to walk into that kitchen and toss your salad!

Or even:

I remember when I first sexually violated a beauty pageant contestant. I’m glad that “Iron Mike” was there to tell me that sometimes a woman needs to be convinced they want it. Sweetie-kins, I want a facial/tattoo. Think it will make me look angrier? I bet you my boss won’t mess with me anymore.”

Stupid, stupid, stupid. Please, someone, even just ONE person, don’t buy this record. Don’t get Tyson’s next PPV. If we keep showing with our wallets that we want these f*ckers around, they will never go away..
Why is it so hard to let go of these two has-beens, but Charles Manson isn’t allowed to cut a record deal, and release all those great songs that the Beach Boys wouldn’t use? Shit, he didn’t kill ANYONE, sling ANY rock, or BRAG to anybody. He just convinced other people to do it for him, which is pretty goddamned hardcore. Sick as all hell, but it’s really a weird country we live in.

Fuck, C-Murder, who has the crime he was convicted of IN HIS STAGE NAME is still finding a way to put shit out, and it’s selling better now that he has the “notoriety” of being behind bars. When you’re more famous for illegal shit you have done, than for the amount of talent you have, it’s time to hang ‘em up.

Motherf*ckers. All of you sick, sick bastards, just go away. Don’t die, but fade into obscurity. Please”¦ If not for me, than do it for the kids.

Kylie Minogue Diagnosed With Breast Cancer

(credit: Pollstar.com)

My family recently had a breast cancer scare, so I hope all is well in the Minogue family, and that Kylie has a speedy recovery. Being confronted with one’s mortality is very frightening, and I am sure that all of the sick, perverted bastards (myself included!) here at InsidePulse.com wish her luck in her battle.

She’s 36, hot as f*ck, and there is a whole other generation of young boys that need her around to ogle.

In “The Most Ridiculous Thing I Have Heard This Week” News

I am not sure if you guys will find this ridiculous, but I sure thought it was funny.

This site, SecretWallTattoos.com, is the COOLEST thing I have seen in a very long time.

Whomever it is that decided it was an awesome idea to go into various hotels across America and paint and design hidden pictures under paintings, furniture, and mirrors, is a GOD.

Basically this guy is my Messiah, and I must meet him. Check out the site, and let me know what you think.

Even My Conditioning Has Been Conditioned”¦

Here is an email I sent out to secure an interview four weeks ago. I got turned down, so now I am posting my email here for everyone to see.

Let’s see if it works.

Dear Sir or Madam:

My name is Shawn M. Smith, and I work for InsidePulse.com, a pop-culture website based here in Manhattan. Our primary demographic, the 18-34 year old male, have long requested more interviews from our site, and we have been doing our best to accommodate their requests.

We have recently conducted interviews with Kim Raver and Reiko Aylesworth as part of our extensive entertainment coverage, and are very interested, if possible, to see if we would be able to set up some time in the immediate future to interview (insert name of celebrity/person whom I would love to chat with).

If that is possible, ANY time today or tomorrow would be fine. I understand that Mr./Mrs./Ms. _____ is a very busy (submit SEX of requested star/entertainer), and has other commitments today as well, but if this is a possibility, please contact me as soon as possible.

Any help you could provide us with would be greatly appreciated.

Sincerely,

Shawn M. Smith

InsidePulse.com

It’s worked”¦kind of. Let’s just see who else bites on it after this week, and then I will stop running it.

Mi Familia

I don’t know a mess of white people who truly understand the problem with crack cocaine. I crack jokes about the shit all the time. Yes, I come off like an insensitive bastard, but unlike a white kid who claims he grew up in the ‘hood, I have actually been there.

Not personally, of course, as I refuse to do any drugs that are named after a part of the ass. It’s just a principle I have always had. No one has “marijuana” on their body, so I don’t remember having an issue with that drug. In my experience, there’s nothing gross about pot, other than the weight gains I experienced (read: the munchies) so I happily toked my way through college.

However, crack cocaine is a f*cked up drug. It ruins lives, but I will let InsidePulse’s own Mike Eagle explain:

“Have you ever known someone on crack?

If you haven’t allow me to paint you a quick picture. Imagine a person who’s list of priorities changes from:

1. Survival
2. Family
3. Appearance/Hygiene
4. Wealth

And after addiction to crack/heroine:

1. being high
2. everything else

To quantify this change, Imagine having a mother who’ll fellate a dealer in the next room while her children are sleeping. Children that may or may not have eaten that day.

Graphic? Yes. But imagine if this is your reality. Imagine that the parent or guardian you’ve cherished has become this type of person. What impressions will it leave you with? What values might these experiences instill in you?”

See, I wasn’t always so pissed off. I truly wasn’t.

It all changed in the summer of 1999.

Growing up, my father and I weren’t really close. It’s not like he neglected me, or I went unfed. He just liked kid sister more than he liked me. As a result, my mother did everything she could to take care of me, and raise me the best way she knew how.

My dad just didn’t like me, as certain things didn’t come naturally to me. I wasn’t the most athletically gifted of young men, but I was never picked last in ANY gym class, in ANY sport.

I was like John Stockton, in a way. You knew I had all the heart in the world, but somehow the athletic ability given to common thugs and dipshits like Kellen Winslow were never granted to me.

I worked my ass off. I truly did. I got my soccer scholarship, albeit not to UCONN or Hartwick like I had hoped, but to a tiny NAIA school.

I struggled at the collegiate level, as the speed at which the game was played was much faster than I had ever seen on any club or amateur team I played for. EVERYONE was fast. EVERYONE had skills.

The only thing I still had was more heart. So, I trained for hours every day for years. Sometimes I shoveled the snow in the backyard to dive around and work out a few hours more to get an edge, and it paid off. My senior year was dawning, and after spending half of all the three previous seasons on the bench, and with excellent potential to continue on to the next level, I was ecstatic.

Yet my father wasn’t. In fact, when one of the largest and greatest goalkeeping coaches on the planet PERSONALLY called me to come and work for him, my dad was pissed off. In fact, he yelled at me for leaving.

That’s when I knew something was very wrong.

I knew my dad was a controlling dick, but his erratic behavior was more and more prevalent. It was absurd to think that “Mr. Don’t Toke, I Can Smell Marijuana From Miles Away” was having anything other than a typical mid-life crisis.

How wrong was I?

Very.

It turns out that my father had re-hired “Kevin the Crackhead” at his company, a man that routinely disappeared for weeks on end until he found a way to drag his ass back to work, at which point he would act as though nothing bizarre had happened.

Anyhow, my fathe’s blossoming friendship with said crackhead, lead to his experimentation with the drug, my mothe’s subsequent attack, and the messiest divorce in the history of messy divorces.

My dad’s lack of class and repeated attempts to dodge the law are infamous tales among my sister and I. My mom still can’t laugh about it, and I am not sure if I blame her for that. Humor is how I deal with things, and I understand that not everyone handles emotional issues the same way.

In the middle of one of his zoned-out episodes, he attempted to strangle her to death. My kid sister had to come home from a friend’s to a house full of police officers and a crying mother, all while my father remained outside on the porch! To make matters worse, he was smoking a cigarette, a habit he hid from the family (not very well, though as he always smelled of stale smoke after work) for the better part of a decade.

I knew something was up when he left my family, stole all of the money, and high-tailed it out of town without a good-bye.

When my 21st birthday came and went, he didn’t call. He also wasn’t there for my college graduation or my siste’s (which happened this past weekend.) He won’t be there for my wedding, the birth of my first child, my siste’s first day as a teacher, and so many other things because of crack cocaine.

It started as an escape for him. I know this because for a time in college, after my birthday, we would talk every few weeks, or when he could remember that he HAD a son. I got to listen to the 5 a.m. shakes and bends as he cried through withdrawal, a secret I kept to myself for 2 years. He confessed to me, but lied to the courts, my mother, and my sister, that he didn’t have a problem with drugs, just alcohol, but it was me who sat waiting on the phone while he took a hit. That hit turned into another and another and another, before I hung up in a rage.

I blamed him for making such a poor decision. For taking the most All-American of families and ripping it apart, I couldn’t forgive him. I still can’t.

I don’t have a father anymore. I know that I have a half-sister somewhere that he and his honest-to-God prostitute girlfriend gave up for adoption. Her name?

The irony there is that even when he snidely named a child after his first two: Kristin and Shawn (me!) he still put Kristin first. Not that I am all that offended, as that is the WORST NAME EVER! I thought it didn’t get worse than having a cousin named Billie Joe.

I am not bitter about the preferential treatment that my father showed my sister, she’s turned into a great human being. I love her more than I ever thought was possible, and feel like a proud parent when I see things like her graduation. I know just how much she has had to go through.

But if your baby sister was the “son” your father always wanted, you’d take offense to it too.

I will never say the “N” word in this column. I don’t use it in real life. It’s disgusting.

However, the word “crack” has and will always be a sensitive spot for me. It cost me the love of a father. “Crack” is my “n” word.

Fitter, Happier, More Productive

With that all out of the way, I want to mention that I won’t be here next week. I know I am letting some people down, but my sister, her boyfriend, my mother, and I are going on a family vacation. It’s going to be the first one in 8 years, and I am really looking forward to it.

Kristin, Jason, and I gave the trip to my mother as a Christmas present, and as a thank you for all that she has done to keep this family alive since my father spazzed-the-f*ck-out.

She’s the strongest woman in the world, and I love her more than I could ever express in words.

So, if you hear a lot about her in my columns, it’s because she has played such a major role in my life, that to not mention her ONCE in a while, would be doing a major injustice to a woman that has given more than she ever had.

She wanted better for Kris and I, and knew that my father was no longer able to provide that. She left him and stopped listening to his bullshit, his lies. She let the son of a bitch go f*ck up his own life, and understood that while it would be hard on the two of us, that we would all be better for it.

Every day I have here on Earth is a testament to my mothe’s love.

She’s never let me stopping dreaming, even when the chips were way, way down.

Call me a mama’s boy, a pussy, whatever you want, but until you’ve been in these shoes, hold back on the judgment until you meet me. We’ll have a beer and we can laugh about life and love, and how funny things happen in life. Sometimes they hurt. Sometimes they are just blind luck.

But having a mother like mine made me never settle for anything: I could never be mediocre, only the best I could be, even if it was just ordinary, possibly average.

And this woman deserves a vacation.

Try not to miss me, but I am sure I will have some kickass stories for you all!

Slinging Links, Yo!

Tom D’Errico comes back with a vengeance, talking about Obituary, Kittie, The GnR album that will never come out, and midgets. Honestly, who doesn’t love Kittie?

Gloomchen has a birthday, posts her Amazon list, and feels bad about getting gifts? Shit, I post a joke about wanting a dollar from all of my readers, didn’t get anything, and I was offended. That is, until my girlfriend gave me a twenty. I guess everyone in her office was checking it out, and she felt guilty. Ha.

Memo to Kyle David Paul: you may be prettier than me, and you may have written that awesome article about Coachella, but even I have a bad day. You caught me contradicting myself, so I will change what I said about this man, Rufus Wainwright, last week:

“Rufus puts on an amazing live show. He really does. He’s just the third biggest dick of all time afterwards, just behind the douchebags from Hoobastank and Darryl Hall“

Happy, Kyle?

One last plug, and it’s a special one. Josh Grutman is packing it in, and got to say goodbye in style. If he is gone for good, he will be missed. Hell, he’s the reason I got the bug to be a writer on the ‘net anyway.

Grut, thanks for the memories, man.

Alright, guys. I am going to be gone next week, but when I get back, I should have more funny stuff to say!

Until then, keep it real!

Ssquared