God, what a pile of fetid, vacuous crap has landed on what was, until just days ago my beloved News World International.

It was the only channel I could still safely watch without fearing the big-haired loud brash and overly abrasive (read: ugly American) talking heads going on and on about dead angelic cheated-upon pregnant mothers-to-be, deadly Armaggen-like and obviously satanic thunder storms, the killer bacteria that’s laying in wait on every surface — ” NO! DON’T TOUCH THE REMOTE IT WILL GET YOU!” — to give me cholera gangrene flesh eating flu-like bird/monkey/pig pox flu, and a whole host of other random, pointless bullshit to distract me from the fact that the cost of living is in a photo-finish meteoric rise, all neck-and-neck-like, with interest rates, gas prices and the large-size tom yum soup at Vientiane Café on Baltimore Avenue.

There is no longer any refuge as that dull, boring, stiff-as-a-board, loser motherfucker Al Gore dared to replace my beloved NWI with, well, the biggest pile of stupid mindless pointless bullshit to fill a television screen since the last presidential news conference: Current TV.

(Oh, and don’t forget he’s also married to evil wench Tipper (hellooo! PMRC?!!?!!? How quickly we forget the 1990s helmet-haired cow who so brilliantly came up with the idea of those lame-assed stickers to put on CDs, which really made a difference, don’t you think?).)

Oh sure, CNN International is okay, if you can find it and you still have to sort; BBC has news, but in between the fourteen gazillion house fixer-upper shows they air daily (after living in London I know that there’s far worse, albeit entertaining, programming — why do we get stuck with people who insist on constructing kitchen blinds out of old straws and manky plastic PVC pipe when V. Graham Norton has half-naked men in leather bondage suits?!!?).

Nothing was as soothing in a catastrophic “See, the whole rest of the world is going to shit too, honey, now go get another glass of wine and we’ll soothe you with our rounded Canadian vowels…” way as NWI, always there to give me the perspective from outside the good ol’ U.S. of A.

But now… now, it’s all over. Now, clicking on what the Goremeister has devised, in his brilliant mind, to be the uber-channel for 18-24 year olds, I’m reminded of… oh, what is it? Oh, I know – the pointless filler they play on airplanes when you’re boarding and shuffling around trying to shove your carry-on into a space the size of a tic-tac and find a germ-ridden blanket, or that certain department stores show on an endless loop in the “juniors” department in an effort to appear more hip, despite the fact that their most high-profile designer used to run around in high heels chasing crooks on bad daytime TV in her heyday.

There is no programming, no content, nothing of any real interest that cannot be figured out by spending 30 seconds on the Internet, and the pace, which is supposed to appeal to these wunderkind teen- and 20-somethings, is just annoying, stupid, and it’s obvious it’s trying waaaay too hard.

But then, what do you expect from the man who is so in touch with the younger generation, he split the 18-24 vote in 2000 with Bush.

Ah well, since he invented the Internet let’s hope he’s familiar with Monster.com…
And in the meantime, give me back my news!!!

Well friends, as I sit here nursing a veeery large bottle of wine and pack of cigarettes, a line from Henry Rollins’ stand-up gig keeps running through my head:

Just walk away.

Now, I’m sure that was in relation to something else, but I have taken that line to heart, and have made it my mantra at times when it seems to be the only tact.

And I have done it tonight.

The score:

Current “relationship”: dead.
Me: alive.

Yes, folks, I thought I had it all figured out, but alas, dear whore-troll-bitch fate had other ideas for me. Alas, alone again am I, but the stronger for it, of course.

So, with that in mind, send me your chocolate, wine and Marlboro lights. And your love. And a strong, strapping single nubile Viking should you come across one: I’m in the market….

So it seems I’m angry. Or so I’ve been told.

I can’t imagine why…

I mean, externally, all I have to do is click on the latest news and I’m body-slammed with such shiny, happy snippets as “ Bush appoints Bolton to U.N. while (those fat lazy overpaid motherfuckers in) Congress are (probably having anal with prostitutes on) recess (while the rest of us worker-bees don’t get any vacation you lazy, piss-poor excuses for human beings).”

Good to know we have a system of checks and balances…

Thankfully, there’s also good news: seems dead diet-guru chronic-halitosis-thanks-to-ketosis mega-glomerate Atkins Nutritionals has gone big, fat, pork-filled belly up.

Which means that all those people sitting around the Ponderosa all-you-can-eat artery-hardening fat-soaked meat products can now, again, be called what they truly are: greedy, gorging pigs.

Which also means they probably will not be asked to participate in the BeautifulPeople Web site, a jarringly superficial site that is at least refreshing in its upfront shallow vapidity.

(All I can think of is Marilyn Manson when I see the site name … )

Of course, it’s Monday, which could be he biggest cause of my mental malaise.

Not like I haven’t got room to whinge as I sit in my teeny, tiny dark, narrow cubicle (aptly named “The Bat Cave” by a fellow temp) doing the monkey-work for all the salaried worker-bees with phat benefits who have no problem delegating their shit work to me.

At first if was fun: no stress, no worries, out the door at 4:59 p.m., but once word got around that the poorly paid temp in the cave has a master’s degree from a top communications school and experience to boot it was a free-for-all and suddenly I find myself with lots of work and responsibility, and none of the corporate perks that go with it – like some well-needed vacation time, sick time or decent benefits. (Oh, I got health insurance: Aetna. Need I say more??? The worst health insurance company on the planet in my experience …)

And so, Monday morning is like the cherry bomb topping on a big, full-fat chocolate-covered lactose laden ice cream sundae, keeping me up all night stressing over the fact that my very existence is a dead end.

I feel like I need to do something wild, something drastic, a big, proverbial fuck-you to the bitter jaded angst that’s invading my psyche.

Unfortunately, I can’t seem to think of anything … which makes me wonder, am I really that uninspired, or should I stop using the aluminum pots and pans?

Anyone else out there feel the same way, or is it just me?

So I thought this was a joke… I thought to myself, “Self, this can’t be for real! Who would be so stupid as to believe something as absurd as this.”

And yet, ’tis a true product.

It’s called White Smoke, and it’s a “revolutionary writing tool” that essentially turns normal, everyday words and sentences into utter bullshit.

Hence, the name.

I may be an offspring not far removed from the old country, but as far as I know, the term, “Blowing white smoke out his/her ass” means, essentially, that the person is completely and totally bullshitting, talking a lot and saying zilch.

Well, now there’s a program that “provides context-based recommendations” to get writers to business-ese in a hurry, allowing them to “enhance their writing skills.”

There’s even a free trial download! Woo hoo! Let me see how badly I can mangle the English language…

But, ‘kay, see, here’s the deal: I’ve enhanced MY writing skills over the years with this amazing invention called learning the proper way to write!

We’ve all done it — remember grade school? Mapping the sentence? Proper noun, verb, predicate?!!?!!?

(And I’m not going to lie — being the geeze I am, I had ADD before anyone knew just why it was I was wandering off and drawing pictures of shoes and butterflies on my lesson book, and I can still write better’n half the bolloxed bullshit floating around like fetid turds in the great electronic spider Web.)

But no, instead we’ve got a program to add to the kind of crap Shrub regularly regurgitates and spews around to globe to unsuspecting intelligent folk who sit, scratching their heads and wondering just what it was they just heard…

(And what is it about this dude on the homepage, sitting in his cheap suit, chin in hand, looking all sly, probably thinking something like, “Heh heh, with this crapola program, I can have this shoddy e-mail explaining why I missed another deadline sent out in no time, and no one will be the wiser. They’ll certainly give up trying to decipher the meaning within minutes, thus leaving me free and clear to continue to bang that hot, horny admin in the supply closet for the rest of the afternoon!)

And I have to admit, this is the kind of thing that makes me crazy. For those of you who remember, a few months ago I was sacked from a gig where the company president regularly made use of the sort of nonsensical gibberish this program creates, and I struggled, day in and day out, to clean up the jargon and replace it with something akin to actual English.

Dude spewed more bullshit and pointless jargon than the local schizophrenic homeless person with tourettes sitting on the street corner in a Hefty sack…

So, to find out this is a desirable trait makes me reevaluate my entire existence…. or perhaps I have just found my calling….