There are some truly astounding people out there, doing some truly outrageous things. Be it hubris, habit, or a case of just plain dumb, the news is filled with examples of what not to do. Let’s chat just a little bit about how to avoid a Red Foreman labeling that will follow you for all your days.
7) That’s not a hot chick.
Unless you’ve met her in real life, that girl telling you how wonderful you look in your profile pic is almost 100% never a hot chick, even when she sends you pictures. Ladies, the same applies for hot dudes. And for the love of all that is holy, when she says she just needs $10,000 to travel from Groovesnackistan to your doorstep before you can get married in the eyes of God and forever dance the horizontal lambada, just say NO. When she says that, she’s actually a 30 year old Nigerian dude in an internet café halfway across the world. Seriously, THIS is "Naomihot4u" or "Hotchick2fuxor":
See more at www.419eater.com, where they love scamming scammers.
6) No, really…that’s NOT a hot chick.
And furthermore, no matter how much you think you can trust this little hottie that’s flirting you up on facebook, do NOT ask her for help killing your wife. Because you’re a dumbass, and that IS your wife. Seriously, it happened. Here's the link.
5) You cannot trust her/him with your naked bits.
Let Weiner’s weiner be a lesson to all. You may think that you are sending pictures of your nekkid nethers to a trustworthy person, but nothing is private on the internet. Those electrons go hither and yon, the ones and zeros ready to be gazed upon by all and sundry, and those digits reveal your most secret birthmarks.
This item counts double if you’re famous. Your naked bits are then worth money, and gang, that’s a temptation too terrible to turn down. That mysterious person on the other end of a purely digital conversation owes you two things…jack and shit. And neither will keep your junk in any kind of trunk at all. Unless you have a throbbing, naked desire to virtually streak down main street, keep the pictures off the web.
4) Lying makes it worse.
Countless episodes of COPS support the lesson my dad grilled into me at the tender age of 7. If you lie, it ain’t going to end well. Unless you are a hypnotist, the lie is going to be revealed soon enough. A cop can smell your bullshit from about a week away; they spend 12 hours a day getting lied to. 15 if they’re parents. 16 if they have more than 1 kid, and 19 if they married that stripper after that one night in Vegas.
Also, as a sub-topic of this guide item, running leads to traumatic injury. If you just have a burning desire to be tased, bro, or if you long to have a German Shepherd's biteprint permanently tattooed on your fleeing fartmaker, then go right ahead and run from the po-po. It's a great way to have a knee implanted in your kidney while they're playing Rosco and yelling "Cuff him and stuff him!"
3) Your computer is evidence.
If you take it in mind to do something illegal and heinous, do it on a completely separate PC. Use your normal computer to visit only wholesome websites, downloading pictures of cute bunnies and participating in discussion groups about making better S’mores.
For all that crazy donkey porn, bank heist planning, and emu death squad correspondence, use a separate computer with a completely different online profile through an IP tunneling service using only a flash hard drive, clearing your browser history every 35 seconds. Lock that bastard up and if you hear sirens within 3 blocks, BURN THE FUCKING THING INTO ASH. If you failed to take all of these steps and ended up playing Bubba’s bitch in the Bighouse, then you only got what was coming to you for being a Dumbass.
2) You really CAN stop drinking.
I have seen it too many times…people merrily drinking along, and then suddenly they reach the end of their night in the classic porcelain prayer position, yelling catcalls at Ralph in his Buick. How hard is it to pace yourself? I don’t understand how we can expect any sympathy for a hangover after guzzling 12 Cuervo shots with a straight gin chaser. (Not that I have ever done that. I don’t like gin.)
If you desire oblivion that much, come to my basement, and give me a bottle of scotch. Consider it the price of admission. I have a large rubber mallet with which I can bonk you between the eyes and give you the same experience as above, with less dehydration. Sip. Bonk. Nighty-night. For a $5 bar donation, I’ll even fire the cannon in the morning to wake you up. I’m a goddamn nurturing soul, bitches.
1) Nothing on that cellphone is that important.
I’m driving on the interstate, a pleasant 5 miles over the speed limit. Suddenly, someone in front of me slows to about 45 mph. In the days of yore, this meant there was a hazard in the road. Now? There's a fair certitude that it means they are texting or talking on the phone. Congratulations, asshat, you have just fucked up traffic and nearly died so that you could LOL or ROFL to somebody’s facetweet post.
I can spot them with ease…men who suddenly slow down. Women who suddenly weave from lane to lane. Truckers who suddenly creep over the shoulder. Invariably, as I pass, their gaze is split between the road and the screen of their phone, or they're gesticulating wildly as if the person on the other end of the phone is actually looking at them in a fucking Dick Tracy watch-video-phone.
I cannot convey with mere words the white hot hate this kindles deep within my chest cavity. I am not a violent man by nature, but this level of dangerous dumbassitude makes me long for vehicular weaponry a la Spyhunter, and I want to machine gun them to death before pulling into my semi truck mobile headquarters to sip a martini. Sadly, that sort of thing is frowned upon by the highway patrols of all 50 states, though I hear that in Texas you can still use the “he needed killin’” defense. PUT THE FUCKING PHONE DOWN PEOPLE.
OK, gang, you know the drill by now. If I made you laugh, SHARE IT! :)
Also, please keep sharing the project from the previous post, Surviving the Life. That has hit 3 continents now, and is still going. You people are effing ambassadors of awesome.