Technical Issue (Now Resolved)

   [Webmaster's Note: Yes, the template is currently hosed. No, I don't know why it's throwing the body of the post to the next line after the sidebar. It didn't do that the time before I last published a post, and I didn't change anything. I can only assume the standards for the XHTML this template uses have been updated, and something I was using got outmoded, or I need to explicitly specify a formatting code that was previously fine left default. I'll figure it out, eventually.]

   [Webmaster's Followup: So, apparently, sometime between when I published the last post and this one, something else changed I was unaware of, because now it's just throwing the footer to the next line after the sidebar, not the body of the post. The fuck?]

   [Webmaster's Continuation: So, it seems that it throws the body of the post underneath the sidebar with anything IE-based, and throws the footer underneath the sidebar with Netscape or Firefox. Strangness . . . Made this its own post, because it continues to persist at being annoying and not-fixed.]

   [Webmaster's Furthermore: Still trying to get this to work properly. Instituted a temporary fix which eliminates the old problem and creates new ones, and also makes the style not really look like how I liked it. This fix involved using the overflow property, which is an obscure and not oft-used one. Still doing random research about floats, clearing, and wrapping.]

   [Webmaster's Discovery: So, this is annoying. I figured out what it is. The first thing the <$BlogItemBody$> tag does is insert a clearing div, which is what's pushing the post down below the sidebar. Now I need to figure out how to negate this in order for this template to ever work. Blogger support proves to be useless, thusfar, but I have a few ideas.]

  [Webmaster's Solution: Or, instead of having to do any fancy coding, I could just look in the Settings and notice that there is an option for turning the clearing div on and off . . . God damn it. Problem over.]

Something

I've got a headache:
it hurts;
That's not cool.

Y'know, it's, like,
My head is aching . . .
With a headache-type thing.

And in the shadows, the memories dance,
Like a Sultan's harem, clad in their dark veils,
I can not see the faces of those I harmed before,
I can not feel the sorrow of the hidden and forlorn;
Do not pass the broken window, avert your virgin eyes,
Inside, the horrors of a stunted growth await your suicide.

Seriously, my head hurts.

Varicolored Garbage

Dear Everybody Associated with E! Entertainment,
    You are all uninteresting people and are not clever, at all. You make your entire career by clinging onto the careers of celebrities and milking their fame to pathetically try and vicariously become famous. I hate you all and hope your heads melt.

Sincerely,
- C. Jay Wrong

Postscript: If you are a celebrity and wish to maintain the integrity of your own career, please don't appear on anything associated with E!.

Being Garulous

       I am not distinctly impressed with the female gender, as a whole. I would just like to state, for the proverbial record that is being kept (either, depending on your religious or ideological leanings, by God or by the Universe, or time itself or whatever), that I don’t think women are the best thing to ever happen to men.

       I don’t hate women, as a sex, either. I bear no grudge against an individual just for having internal genitalia. That’s completely cool with me, that you are, in fact, female.

       I just don’t . . . Overtly care, anymore. “Oh, wow, you’re a girl? Wow, that’s so awesome, and supersweet and stuffage! Whee”—No, no, that is not me. I am not one to falsify interest entirely based on any sort of personal attraction toward the idea of womankind.

       Looking back at my life, I can almost positively say that the vast majority of any kinds of relationships that have fucked me over have been with a woman, or girl. As a male, my relationships with other males have all been rather simple and easy, enjoyable for their qualities despite lacking in extreme emotional closeness and yadda, yadda, blah, blah.

       I try not to be bitter, or become misogynistic about it; it is hard. Part of me—that forever-bitter cynic—craves the rage and indignation of a lifetime full of women treating me like shit. And, I won’t lie, I do find myself (or others find me) saying more disparaging things about the entire female gender more often than the male one, and here is why: you will find men going on and on about how great women are much more often than you will find women prattling on about the qualities of men.

       Why is this? It’s probably because of several reasons . . . Women just aren’t as obsessed with men as men are with women; men aren’t that extremely awesome of a gender, anyway; and, furthermore, societal stigma dictates that women are to be self-centered and self-absorbed in regards to sexual or romantic interactions and to not extend compassion nor admiration out toward their partner, instead expecting one-sided adulation with no obligatory reciprocation. Such is the world.

       No, men aren’t that great, but . . . Neither are women, really. That is what it comes down to for me: I’ve just gotten to a point where I don’t care what sex you are when I meet you, because I know there is an equal chance that you suck no matter how soft and bouncy your chest may be. Whatever.

       I’m tired of men who praise women as Goddesses and angels and mistresses of eternity or whatever overblown, hyperbolic metaphor they feel like making. I really have no capacity to listen to another guy go on about how a girl or girls are just so super, so spiffy, so nifty and extra-keen, gee-golly, gosh-darn swell (with gumdrops and lollipops and rainbows sprouting out of their asses).

       Just. Can’t. Care.