Like many, the swearing in of Barack Obama yesterday made me realize just how much we really need change. Of course, I'm not talking about America because, frankly, after "Whose Line Is It Anyway?" got canceled, I pretty much stopped paying attention to what was going on here. Rather, I am concerned about changing something a little closer to home for me. I don't know about you but I'm tired of all of this Pollestad.net bullshit. It's 2009. It's time for SkipWalker.net. Unfortunately, skipwalker.net is already registered by some bohemian drummer jackass with a horrible website so I shall have to suffer silently for now until my plan to free the Unibomber comes to fruition.
I realize that it's been more than two and a half years since I last authored something on this website so you may be wondering what I have been up to and where this sudden burst of animosity is coming from. Well, thankfully, I can answer that with a single two-word response: time traveling. Yeah, that's right, mother fucking time traveling. And don't sit there and try to tell me that it's not possible. I've seen and done it all, including Cindy Crawford twice back in the early 90's. Who's Skip Walker? Me. And what can Skip Walker do? Anything he damn well pleases, even if it bends the laws of space and involves you talking about yourself in third person.
The idea for time travel came to me after I got into a Ritalin eating contest with some retards from the special school up the street and just kind of blacked out for a while. I'm not sure how long I was unconscious but when I came to, I was bleeding from my elbow and I smelled like wet newspaper. I think that they tried to paper mache me because they have no idea what a balloon looks like. I vowed to deal with them later because, honestly, they weren't going anywhere. I'm not 100% sure if retarded schools even have graduation. I think that the kids just stay in school for however long they live. Either that or it's pretty common for kids with extra chromosomes to grow mustaches in the third grade. Regardless, I'm getting sidetracked.
While I was under, I was taking stock of my wonderful life and how much I have accomplished when a long-forgotten memory popped into my head. During a particularly bad menstrual cycle in 1982, I was writing the script for what would eventually became the Ghost Busters movie. My version, however, was a little more realistic than what eventually got made and depicted scenes of the black guy complaining about getting paid less than everyone else and Janine filing suit against the company for sexual harassment. Anyway, my draft of the movie ended with Venkman being on trial for cooking the books and embezzling most of the retirement fund. It was during this time that I asked myself, "Why should I waste my time writing about fraud when I can go out and commit some myself?" Unfortunately, I'm a slow responder and it took me more than fourteen years to answer my own question.
By late 2006, I was no longer in any shape to run about town bamboozling everyone I met. That kind of work demands youth and vigor which is something that I sold to a pawn shop in 1986 for crack money. Hence the need to time travel. Unfortunately, I was new at this whole traveling through time thing and I overshot my destination by a couple of decades. While I wasn't able to re-acquire my youth and vigor, people in 1922 were a bit more trusting than they are today and it wasn't long before my stint as a Therapeutic Health Technician was raking in the big bucks. I really had no idea what a Therapeutic Health Technician was supposed to do but thankfully, neither did they. If Warren G. Harding taught me anything aside from how to die from a heart attack, it's that you don't have to be good at something to get rewarded for it.
And get rewarded I did. Despite my wealth and accomplishments, I'm still playing second fiddle (third string?) to some internet douche bag and the Pollestad.net abomination. Sure, in 2005, midgets were funny. Jokes about homeless people peeing on zebras might have been a hip trend, but not now. Not today. In this downward spiral of an economy, one can't afford to stand still and continue the same business practices. It's time to shake things up. Down with the old regime and in with the new. No longer will the world stand for the horrible filth that is Pollestad.net. It's Skip Walker time and that's change that we can all believe in. (Belief not required -- a simple donation of a large quantity of money will also suffice. Open to legal residents of the United States only. Skip Walker may not be available in all areas. Check your local listings for more details.)
I realize that it's been more than two and a half years since I last authored something on this website so you may be wondering what I have been up to and where this sudden burst of animosity is coming from. Well, thankfully, I can answer that with a single two-word response: time traveling. Yeah, that's right, mother fucking time traveling. And don't sit there and try to tell me that it's not possible. I've seen and done it all, including Cindy Crawford twice back in the early 90's. Who's Skip Walker? Me. And what can Skip Walker do? Anything he damn well pleases, even if it bends the laws of space and involves you talking about yourself in third person.
The idea for time travel came to me after I got into a Ritalin eating contest with some retards from the special school up the street and just kind of blacked out for a while. I'm not sure how long I was unconscious but when I came to, I was bleeding from my elbow and I smelled like wet newspaper. I think that they tried to paper mache me because they have no idea what a balloon looks like. I vowed to deal with them later because, honestly, they weren't going anywhere. I'm not 100% sure if retarded schools even have graduation. I think that the kids just stay in school for however long they live. Either that or it's pretty common for kids with extra chromosomes to grow mustaches in the third grade. Regardless, I'm getting sidetracked.
While I was under, I was taking stock of my wonderful life and how much I have accomplished when a long-forgotten memory popped into my head. During a particularly bad menstrual cycle in 1982, I was writing the script for what would eventually became the Ghost Busters movie. My version, however, was a little more realistic than what eventually got made and depicted scenes of the black guy complaining about getting paid less than everyone else and Janine filing suit against the company for sexual harassment. Anyway, my draft of the movie ended with Venkman being on trial for cooking the books and embezzling most of the retirement fund. It was during this time that I asked myself, "Why should I waste my time writing about fraud when I can go out and commit some myself?" Unfortunately, I'm a slow responder and it took me more than fourteen years to answer my own question.
By late 2006, I was no longer in any shape to run about town bamboozling everyone I met. That kind of work demands youth and vigor which is something that I sold to a pawn shop in 1986 for crack money. Hence the need to time travel. Unfortunately, I was new at this whole traveling through time thing and I overshot my destination by a couple of decades. While I wasn't able to re-acquire my youth and vigor, people in 1922 were a bit more trusting than they are today and it wasn't long before my stint as a Therapeutic Health Technician was raking in the big bucks. I really had no idea what a Therapeutic Health Technician was supposed to do but thankfully, neither did they. If Warren G. Harding taught me anything aside from how to die from a heart attack, it's that you don't have to be good at something to get rewarded for it.
And get rewarded I did. Despite my wealth and accomplishments, I'm still playing second fiddle (third string?) to some internet douche bag and the Pollestad.net abomination. Sure, in 2005, midgets were funny. Jokes about homeless people peeing on zebras might have been a hip trend, but not now. Not today. In this downward spiral of an economy, one can't afford to stand still and continue the same business practices. It's time to shake things up. Down with the old regime and in with the new. No longer will the world stand for the horrible filth that is Pollestad.net. It's Skip Walker time and that's change that we can all believe in. (Belief not required -- a simple donation of a large quantity of money will also suffice. Open to legal residents of the United States only. Skip Walker may not be available in all areas. Check your local listings for more details.)