Way back when in the days of yore, before there was forums, blogs and celebrity soirees, there was Usenet. Usenet was the place where the philosopher kings of the day gathered to advance civilization and enlighten mankind.
Nah, just kidding. It was a place where shitheads from all corners of the world congregated to air their insipid views on any petty subject their small minds could think of. But Usenet had one thing going for it (at least for a couple of years) -- Richard Head.
And this is a series to commemorate what was good about Usenet, i.e. me. Enjoy!
This was my tribute to the asylum that was alt.music.spice-girls (as well as featuring a couple of people I encountered in alt.irc and alt.music.bon-jovi), in the form of a short novel of sorts.
If I'm the Super Deluxe model -- and I certainly am -- that you can only buy in specialist stores for a ton of cash, Spicy Sam was the budget version they give you for free at the supermarket when you buy four cans of your favourite fizzy beverage. And The Equalizer was his 14-year-old wannabe sidekick.Subject: Take This To Your Graves, You Sad Bastards!
Newsgroups: alt.music.spice-girls, alt.music.bon-jovi, alt.irc
OK, here's the stab in the groin I promised: 'The Tale of Two Spice Knockers - A Love Story' version 2.0.
I've basically just added a couple of characters, changed a couple of minor, and some not so minor, details of the original story and fixed the most horrid and obvious spelling mistakes. I've left the little introduction even though most people won't know what the fuck I'm on about there, but I just really like the way I formulated it (God, I'm such a wanker...).
Note: Of course, the honourable Mr Equalizer (bless his WebTV soul) is no longer with us, so if you're a newbie you won't know who the hell he is. But rest assured that great care has been taken by the author of this tirade to portray him the way he actually was (I see a libel suit in my not too distant future...).
Anyway, here we go:
This might be a true story, only the names have not been changed to publicly ridicule the partners in crime.
This is basically a re-hash of my "Now, You'll Just Hate This..." post, with the slight difference that I actually put an ounce of time, sweat and thought into it this time. Those of you who enjoyed that post will probably want to marry me and have my babies after reading this one. Those of you who did not particularly enjoy it might actually manage a reluctantly wry smile at this one. Those of you who thought it just plain sucked might wanna skip this post altogether.
Enjoy it, hate it, it's your choice. Just don't expect me to care if, when you reach the end of this tirade, you feel that you just wasted a few precious moments of your equally precious life.
Once upon a time... (man, I like this story already!)... a little boy named Rod Munch, known to friend and foe alike as The Equalizer (yeah yeah, I know, but he's 11-years-old, give the poor kid a break, will ya), was walking through a dampened forest on his way to see his master, the almighty Spicy Samuel. Spicy Sam lived in the forest alone in a shed, or The Mansion, as they jokingly referred to it. The boys had attained a healthy portion of gallows humor since Spicy Sam had been thrown out by his parents after Spicy Dad had found the boys masturbating in the garage, aided by some of Spicy Mom's old Playboys.
When The Equalizer arrived at Spicy Sam's shed he knocked tentatively on the door. After a few seconds Spicy Sam opened the door in his usual firm and decisive fashion. The Equalizer always liked that about his master. "Shout out to m'boy The Equalizer!", said Spicy Sam, greeting his closest companion as enthusiastically as ever. The Equalizer responded in an equally affectionate manner. Needless to say, a joyous time was had by all. After a brief, but nice 'n quiet, kissing and hugging session, they decided to proceed with their mission at hand. On this particular day they were on their way to a fan meeting and a counselling session with a psychologist who they'd heard was top. The first stop would be the fan meeting at granny's house, where they were to meet all their fans from the
alt.music.spice-girls internet newsgroup. They left Spicy Sam's shed to embark on their adventure for the day.
After walking only a few hundred yards they spotted something coming towards them. "Oh no!", they thought. It was that cross-dressing, foul-mouthed gypsy kiwi-head midget, Mr Knowitall. Something must've woken him in his cave. The two boys just knew that this meant trouble, and the strain on both their innocent young faces was clearly evident. True to form Mr Knowitall proceed, in his normal and obnoxious fashion, to do one of those pre-match dances that those kiwi rugby players always do. All this while singing a potpourri of his favourite Spice tunes, occasionally letting out a hearty "GIRL POWER!!!". This did not please the two boys. They were two mighty fine lads, but they did intensly hate those damn Spice Girls, or Spice Sluts, as Spicy Sam called them to everybody's great delight. In fact, Spicy Sam had even gone so far as to re-make the Spice Girls' Girl Power motto to Slut Power. That boy sure had a creative head on his young shoulders, and The Equalizer loved him for it.
Luckily their pain was soon to be turned into great joy. For out of sheer excitement during his rousing finale, Mr Knowitall commited a fatal mistake. He accidentally slipped on a rock on the ground, leaving the poor sod with a broken leg and several nasty bruises. This was greeted by hysterical laughter and applause from the two boys. Spurred on by their momentary physical superiority, they went over to the temporarily incapacitated Mr Knowitall and aimed a good couple of kicks at his, for a midget, large head. "That'll teach you!", they angrily told him. After this pleasant little interlude they went their merry way, leaving Mr Knowitall to bleed to death in peace.
After walking for a while they turned their heads and nodded knowingly at eachother, the way only long-time lovers can do. Quite clearly their collective braincell had reminded them that it was a cheap shot. They both felt more than a little embarrassed about their shameful behaviour. They knew that what they had done was just plain wrong, but at least now they had something new to talk the counsellor about. It did put a moments damper on their journey, though. They continued in silence.
Soon something broke the silence that the two boys had, until so recently, shared and enjoyed. They could hear in the far distance an awful racket coming from a little house. They smiled tenderly at eachother, the way they usually only did after a particularly rough S&M session, for they knew that it was Finn - the drumming noise-terrorist. Finn was right in the middle of doing what he always does - practice his tired old Tool drum-solos, no doubt wearing one of his trademark moth-eaten old Eagles t-shirts. They figured that this sound-pollution Finn called drumming must've been what had woken Mr Knowitall. "Mheheh heh heh, Stool, mhehehe, Drool, hehemhehehe", said The Equalizer in that boyish way of his. Spicy Sam laughed out loud, like he often did during these in-jokes. "Does that guy never give up?", they joked. The Equalizer, not knowing where the line was drawn, added, "Yeah, really, it's like, what kinda dumbass spends all his money on a drumset when, like, he can't even play properly?", which resulted in a firm smack on the head and an harsh telling-off from Spicy Sam. Spicy Sam enjoyed a good joke as much as the next guy, but he was having none of those cruel jokes. Finn was a fellow anti-Spice believer, after all. The Equalizer apologized humbly, and more than a little grovely, to his master and they continued on their way.
After walking for a while they spotted another couple of familiar faces, Mayonessa and Ligs. They were sitting on a bench. He was having one of his weekly bad trips again, apparently. He was babbling. "I'm being chased by a pink hippo I tell you!", was one of the few sentences that Mayo managed to pick up during his incoherent whining. "I might as well jump off a bridge", he moaned. Mayonessa tried to comfort him by saying, "It's not that bad, some women like a man with a piece of metal thru his knob". It didn't work. Spicy Sam said, "Hey, Equalizer, check this out, there's Mayonessa! I'm gonna tell her how nice her boobs are". He walked up to Mayonessa and said, "Hey, Mayonessa, you...". "Read the fucking FAQ! Can't you see he's upset?!", she shouted back at him while pointing at Ligs. Spicy Sam took a step back, just to be safe.
Mayo turned her attention back to Ligs and tried comfort him by giving him a hug. "You know what the worst part is?", he sniffed. "The pink clashes with my purple shoes and this snot-colored shirt I have on! Waaaah!", he cried. Mayo made another brave attempt at comforting him by saying, "Well, at least your purple shoes looks nice with your blue hair". "I may as well be dead!", whined Ligs. Mayo thought, "Geez, be a man about it already!", but she was too tactful to actually say it. Suddenly Ligs got a look of terror on his face as he stared into the horizon. He must've seen the hippo again. As he got up from the bench, Mayonessa shouted, "Hey, hey, stop! My hair's caught in that metal crap you have all over your face!". Of course, being on the bad trip of the year, Ligs was oblivious to her existance, so he ran. "Stop! Fucking stop! HEEELP!!!", Mayo screamed as she was being dragged thru the mud by the hair. She continued, "Hey, don't make me shove the FAQ up your butt sideways, you sodding freakshow!". "Hmmm....Ah well...", the rather stunned boys said and turned around to walk away. "Shame about that beautiful, lovely hair", said Spicy Sam.
Next they walked past a bunch of people who they did not recognize. It was the alt.irc people. As usual, they were just sitting around doing nothing. Most of them just looked kinda dorky, but two of them did catch the eye of the two boys. One of them was a chick with a Bon Jovi shirt who was looking kinda bored. The other one was a bitter looking man (hey, being a highschool janitor can do that to a guy). They didn't know him, but his name was Jeremy Nelson. Jeremy was proudly sporting his Pathetic Wankers Anonymous shirt. The boys thought these people looked so boring that they just walked past them.
A bit further down the line they spotted Donnie, sitting on a bench with a huge grin on his face. He was masturbating and pretending to read a copy of Playboy. The two boys smiled at eachother as they walked by him, for they knew that Donnie wasn't reading Playboy. They knew that he always pretended to do that while secretly hiding a picture of Robyn in the magazine. They giggled and said, "What a perv!"
They soon arrived at granny's house. Obviously all their fans were there hoping to get a word with their idols. They entered granny's gloriously empty little house -- even granny was conspicuous with her abscence -- and sat down in the middle of the room. Encouraged by the surprisingly large turn-out the boys started to tell tall tales about various subjects. They went on for hours. Man, it was wall-to-wall wit and wisdom. Finally though, even our two heroes themselves were getting pretty sick and tired of their asinine ramblings. They decide to make their feeble excuses and leave to embark on the final leg of their adventure.
As they left granny's little house they saw a red-headed, big-breasted and rather miffed-looking woman approaching them. The woman appeared to be mumbling angrily to herself. "Little Red Riding Hood!?", they asked eachother. However, they soon saw that the woman's hair had the tell-tale signs of a cheap and shoddy dye-job. And since they knew that a Spice Slut hadn't been spotted in this area for years, they realised that it could only be Lulu - the terror of the Spice loonies. It was indeed Lulu. She had wrongly been informed by her sources that there was a meeting at granny's house discussing the Spice Girls. Naturally she'd concluded that the world's biggest baby, Ronald Traino, had been at the meeting spreading a filthy bunch of lies about the Spice Girls, no doubt aided by his fellow Spice loony, Trevor Ashman.
Now, Lulu wasn't the sort of woman to stand idly by and tolerate this kinda behaviour. While she did not like the Spice Girls, she didn't like incorrect facts much, either. "Don't believe a word that those two morons tell you!", she shouted to the boys, sounding strangely concerned about the subject. As she came closer she continued in an even more passionate manner. "Look, they don't write their own songs, Victoria has acne, Emma looks like a balding sperm whale, and I just hate Mel B!", she said, sounding quite agitated. "Look, Lulu, we don't care. Go away", they told her. This was a mistake, for Lulu started to hurl a torrent of abuse unto the two boys. And while they always liked to inflict physical pain unto eachother during sex, they did not enjoy this kinda verbal abuse. But it was more material for the counselling session, so in that sense it was good, and they realised it. After a few moments of light jogging they managed to shake off their ageing persecutor.
The jogging had left the boys quite shagged out. They decide to stop by Marilyn Manson's newly opened bar for a couple of glasses of milk of magnesia. As they arrived at the bar they opened the door and stepped in. The bar was empty but for a one-eyed, rather nasty-looking man who sat in the corner talking to himself. The man was quite clearly drunk. The boys recognized him straight away, it was Rod Rooter - the perverted Billy Dee Williams stalker. They immediately turned around and quickly left the establishment before he noticed them. They'd heard his sick and twisted stories about his depraved sex life a million times, they did not need to hear that again. And with him being drunk off his arse again, it was bound to be even worse than usual. Besides, that glass eye of his always made their skin crawl.
As they closed the door to the bar behind them, they could hear someone shouting insults at them from above. The Equalizer, thinking that it was God, immediately averted his eyes. Spicy Sam, on the other hand, cared fuck all about God, so he looked up to see a man sitting on a branch of one of the larger trees. It was none other than Richard Head - the self-centered, arrogant and abusive little troll. He was taunting them from up there. The Equalizer didn't approve, but Spicy Sam said, "Ignore him, don't respond, that's what he thrives on. He's just a lame troll. My sources over in alt.music.bon-jovi told me about him. Apparently he thinks he's funny or something.". Of course, this did not discourage Richard at all, quite the contrary. Richard just continued to taunt the two youngsters even more. Finally The Equalizer cracked, "You're a fucking prick, Mr Head-ache! You're probably a faggot with no friends! And you probably can't even get a woman, either! Just shut the fuck up and get a life, you loser!", he screamed at Richard. Naturally, Richard loved it and laughed so hard he almost fell out of his tree.
Spicy Sam calmed The Equalizer down and had a quiet word with him. "Calm down. You're The Big Sexy One, remember?", he told him. "Yeah, you're right. He's just a lame troll, you know. Let's just ignore him", said The Equalizer. The boys ignored Richard and walked steadily towards the counsellor's house. As they walked away they saw two women approaching the tree which they'd just left behind them. They recognized one of them as April, Richard's mistress. The other one was that chick who they'd seen with the alt.irc people earlier. It was Mary Beth, the Bon Jovi loving prison groupie. She'd become bored with the alt.irc people and decided to go look for some fun instead. As the two women reached the tree they both looked up at Richard and simultaneously exclaimed, "There you are, you hunky piece of man meat! Let's snog!". Then they looked at eachother with a surprised look on their faces and both said, "What the fuck!? He's mine!". "No! He's mine!", they shouted. Soon one hell of a cat fight broke out. Hair and teeth were flying everywhere. Richard, naturally, loved it. The two boys, however, said, "Yuck! Girls!", and walked away.
After a few minutes walking they arrived at what they assumed was the counsellor's house. There was a large sign above the door, but as neither of the two boys knew how to read, they didn't know what it said. No sooner had they realised this than the door was flung open. Standing before them was giant of a man. The man had a huge grin on his face. "C'mon in, boys!", the man said with a slightly effeminate voice. The boys walked into a small room with no furniture, only a couple of cushions on the floor. The huge man with the effeminate voice said, "Sit yourself down on a cushion, boys". The boys did...
Over to you, Adma...
If you read the whole thing - get a friggin' life!
If you just scrolled down to the end without actually reading the story - shame on you!
"At least you picked the right name for yourself, dickhead..." - Willie (!!!) Stott, alt.music.bon-jovi.
So if you detected a hint of The Equalizer being the Beavis to Spicy Sam's Butthead, give yourself a gold star. That's not to say that they couldn't occasionally be a bit funny (intentionally or otherwise) and didn't do their part to make alt.music.spice-girls the deliciously glorious freakshow that it was.
A sidenote: as I was reading this again I was sadly reminded of the fact that the glory days of the internets are well and truly gone forever. The censorship brigade has thoroughly destroyed any fun that could possibly be had on the internets. For example, I remember posting a cartoon of Jesus' rotting corpse on the cross being fucked in the eyesocket by a small devil to alt.music.spice-girls, and nobody batted an eyelid. Not even the resident Christian fundamentalist.
Compare and contrast to the social networking site of choice today, Facebook. Just in the last week I had a post in some Canadian group that read, "I have signed legislation to outlaw Canada forever. Bombing begins in 5 minutes. No ehs or boouts about it. So long, frenchy!", and one in the 'Hug A Jew day' group that read, "Are you the Judean People's Front?", both deemed offensive enough to delete. I mean, could you possibly come up with two more innocuous jokes if you tried? How petty and unbearably humourless can you get?
I'm so bored with the internets that I'm actually contemplating going outside.