This blog reflects my real life experiences with reading. I offer the following to all those willing to listen.
How best to say this... Understand that I'm not the kind of person to sit behind a keyboard and believe that what I think will have any profound meaning to your lives. I want to have a profound meaning to your lives, but in case I don't I want to act like I'm not trying to so that I won't look stupid. You see, although what I have to say may upset a few of you, a few months ago I had one of those life changing moments that forced me to realize that I've made a lot of stupid mistakes in my life, and one of those mistakes had nothing to do with killing hookers. That was the one mistake that I'd come to know and regret for the rest of my life, or until I'm able to come up with some other pretentious bullshit to go on the Internet and preach about.
You know what they say, but I'll be redundant and tell you anyway: "Write about what you know."
The problem was why should the two of you now reading this believe me when I say that reading was to blame? Understand that I've been reading my entire life, starting with Green Eggs & Ham and the Bible, right up till just a few months ago with Cat & The Hat and the Koran. Over the years, I couldn't even calculate the number of hours and amount of money I'd wasted on books, because I read so much that I neglected to learn math.
When I considered their effect on my life, I had to face the fact that years of reading books had not made me smarter. I didn't have a big red dog. I was not a wizard, I couldn't properly wave a wand. I had absolutely no idea where Waldo was, and if offered Green Eggs & Ham... I would not like it, Sam I Am!
We often forget that books are "entertainment." That means that beyond making you feel good, they have NO lasting value. And, as we all know, feeling good is not enough justification for doing something. That's why I chopped off my dick after I decided that I didn't want children. Regardless of how important it may feel to you, there is no place on a resume for killing a white whale(except if you're applying for a job as a whaler).
The real pain behind my years of book addiction was that I never realized their true cost. Sure it was just a few hours here or there, but over time it was like 2 or 3 weeks. I'm not just sickened by all the time I've wasted, but more so by the important stuff that I pushed aside to make time for reading. For the sake of entertainment, I was willing to give up sleep, health, and my memory. And for what? No, really, I forgot what I was talking about. Oh right, books...
We fool ourselves into thinking that characters in books are adequate substitutes for real life friends. Readers seem to be fine giving up their real lives for imaginary ones full of depression and loneliness. I now know the true cost of reading. All those lost years that I could have spent watching Friends, creating telemarketing scams, or feeding my cat... Three months ago I had to face the fact that I was fat, divorced, couldn't find my keys, all my socks had holes in them, and I had Hepatitis C.
If there's a moral to this lecture, it's that, as much as we may want one, life does not have a paperback reprint. For much of my life I was eager to trade my pog collection, the deed to my farm, and my soul for experiences that don't really exist. It took me a long time to figure all of this out, and I missed out on a lot of life. My resolution is to do things that create value(like blaming my former hobbies for ruining my life), NOT things that consume time(like everything in the world that anyone ever does).
Here are some of the things that you could have done in the time it took you to read this blog: Started a new character in World of Warcraft, punched an old woman in the face, or jerked off to Internet porn. You also could have enjoyed other forms of entertainment, such as watching television, which is somehow less of a waste of time than reading just because I like it better. The average reader reads 2 to 3 blogs a day.
I know a lot of you are angry, confused, asleep, paralyzed, or poisoned about the things that I'm saying. Call me pretentious if you want... You can call me pretentious in the comment section below(be sure to sign in or create an account if you don't already have one). Don't be afraid to get your friends to call me pretentious too.
I don't hate readers or the authors of books, I just want them treated as lesser human beings than the rest of us. HOLY CRAP! As I was writing this, I just found out that people who read get together and socialize. They actually have book clubs where people meet together and discuss the books they've been reading. Clearly these people would be meeting up and discussing these books even if the books didn't exist, so the books themselves should get no credit for this once so ever.
So does reading improve your life or ruin it? I don't know, even though I've gone on for 12 paragraphs claiming that it ruins it. The only thing I know is that I'll never have to find out as long as I keep my head up my own ass.
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