Date: October 27th, 2019
Ladies and gentlemen, I give to you the most American thing I have ever seen:
While I was walking home from work today, I was singing the theme to The Computer Chronicles at the crosswalk and some Mexican dude with a bicycle gave me a dirty look.
I'm sorry that I'm on the CUTTING EDGE of computer programming and you're not. I'm all the way on Windows 98, you're only on the iPhone 10. Get on my level you fucking dweeb.
Speaking of phones, I don't have one. I've mentioned that several times. I hate smart phones. They're glorified wire taps that record your conversations and send them to corporations so they can datamine you. Not only that, people are addicted to them, I refuse to own one. And that's exactly how Twitter was able to lock me out of my accounts.
Yup. You can still access all three of my accounts (@HumanRaccoon, @SmarkitudeZine and @MajinTween), but I can't log in. I'm not allowed to post until I give them a mobile phone number to verify my accounts.
What triggered this? Well, I jokingly insulted WhatCulture for having bad opinions.
So that's it. I have been officially locked out of social media. I am not allowed to be part of millennial culture. You'd think that would upset me, but it doesn't.
Twitter didn't do anything for this site. Nobody visited the site because they saw my posts on Twitter. If anything, my loyalest readers just come straight to the site. So that's what this site is going to be from now on. You come here because you want to come here. It's also going to be the only place for me to vent the things in my head.
So Twitter did me that favor. I'm out of the social media bubble with no option to return. I'm actually stoked. Fuck Twitter.
Can I just say that I'm baffled that we're somehow on iPhone 11? Like, I used the iPhone 4 briefly (and wrote this article with it before yeeting it into the garbage because I caught it spying on me and tailoring ads to conversations I was having with people in my bedroom. Like, yes. It would have been nice if those 12 crossdressing fembois had used condoms while they were raping me and using Family Guy DVDs to drown out my screams but giving me Durex ads now isn't going to cure my chlamydia.
I want to drop a Machine Gun Kelly diss on someone's grandma. Like, "I'm sick of you offerin' me food every five minutes, let's talk about it." But then Eminem would reply defending them. Since I'm the Human Raccoon, he'd probably call it Roadkillshot.
Yeah, I'm pretty good at insulting stuff... but his insults rhyme! I can't combat that batshit. It's impossible and implausible to audibly chronicle a diss that would tank a fad faster than Bionicle. So I'm not fucking with Slim Shady, Eminem or B-Rabbit. I'm sure as shit not going to make a joke about fucking his daughter like some people do. Mainly because she's probably a bitch and I wouldn't want to get tied down to some spoiled rich whore.
It is funny though that people are like, "Eminem is the best rapper ever!" Because like... look at the landscape. It's not really an accomplishment. Look back at my Blackout review. Those two retards weren't even saying anything. Redman seriously said 'I ate paint chips, the rare moon.' Like, what the fuck does that even mean?
Eminem becoming the greatest rapper of all time is like Johnny Knoxville in The Ringer. It was an easy battle to pick and he's surrounded by retards.
Anyway. I'm getting off track here. The point is, that's why I've been so quiet for the month of October. I've had to do some major overhauling to this site to turn it into my absolute 100% home on the web. And now it is. I'm so glad to have the burden of trying to fit in with the Normie Net lifted off my shoulders. Especially considering that I'd often have to deal with dumbass modern-minded people responding to my shit with differing opinions. I have no tolerance for differing opinions. Why are you arguing with me? I'm always right.