Confessions of An Internet Junkie

My name is M, and I am an internet junkie. I don’t struggle with junk sickness, like William Burroughs did. No track marks in my arms; no scores on the edge of a seedy, city park.

I’m habitually drawn to the internet because of the need to escape my meaningless, 9-to-5 existence. All jobs are boring, but I sold out years ago. It’s too late to recapture any innocent ideals. When I’m not performing my routine do-dah shuffle for a paltry paycheck, I am an unrepentant soul gone south into the depths of internet Hell. God help me, but where would I be without a quick-fix of escape?

Kate, allegedly a 37-year-old former attorney, who blogs as Electric Venom, has some pretty up-front views that I like – even if she is a well-fed Republican, living the high life.

1. On the whining that pictures of Saddam in his underwear violate his “human rights” – sorry, but when you kill thousands of people because they don’t like you and litter your country with heaps of their dead bodies and gas thousands of others because of their ethnicity, you pretty much surrender any claim to possessing humanity.

2. On Michael Jackson: with the surgeries, long hair, whispery voice and makeup designed to make him look like a freak-show female, why hasn’t he taken the plunge and had himself castrated? Think of all the money he would’ve saved in lawyer fees.

3. On the Paula Abdul scandal: as vapid as she may be, a has-been who’s always one season away from returning to anonymity wouldn’t risk her resurrected career on a skanky-looking guy. Duh. (Even so, I second the idea of replacing Paula with Cher).

4. Here is a fun drinking game to play next season: do a shot every time Randy says “dawg.” Even a hard-core drunk will pass out after the sixth one.