|Brazenly flaunting her deformity in public.|
I would like to start this post off by saying that it does not in any way represent a compromise of my integrity. I am not trying to generate a large number page views by writing a bunch of disposable bullshit in a distracted and semiliterate style of prose that would indicate I wrote it in a noisy food court with an iPad and a heaping spoonful of unwarranted self-importance, using tantalizing keywords such as unlimited oatmeal to make search engines love me the way my father never did. That goes against everything I believe in as a blogger, and I would never do that to my dozens of loyal readers. In all seriousness, I would estimate that there are almost two dozen of you at this point, which really makes the endless hours of tireless labor all worth it. I'm so glad that I have nearly institutionalized myself striving gallantly to provide the internet with stellar content for the last two years, so that I can now enjoy a readership roughly equivalent to the number of people who have been to the moon.
I must say I am nothing short of orgasmically elated that the current Alexa ranking for Appellate Sky is 7,377,936, while a flaccid orgy of mind-numbing platitudes like Zen Habits is in the top 10,000, even though it's responsible for at least 10,000 comas, and probably a few suicides. And I love the thought of my blog remaining shrouded in obscurity for the remainder of my natural life, while the Hyperbole and a Half woman shits out a few third grade-level Paintbrush abortions that are more telling of her struggles with mental illness than any kind of coherent narrative, and she is heralded as a comedic genius and gets a Wikipedia article. I'm really happy for them both, and wish them continued success.
So since I am so beatifically satisfied with the tendency of the internet to exalt mediocrity, while meticulously crafted gems such as my humble weblog are quietly under rug swept, or simply evaporate like so much rain on your wedding day, despite having no shortage of Alanis Morissette references, I would have no reason to shamelessly seek the approval of the dimwitted masses and their emotionless robot overlords by posting content that feels wrong in the pit of my stomach. And therefore it is screamingly obvious that my heart is simply telling me to abandon my foolish intellectual pride and explore new and exciting modes of expression, while still being true to that innermost voice which I believe to be both my conscience and that thing we call "God." And that's why today I have decided to show you some Crazy Pictures of Incredibly Ugly People.
I don't think we can have an intelligent discussion about ugliness without mentioning people with incredibly long limbs. Everybody knows at least one or two of these people and we all hate them for the simple fact that they make us want to puke. But at the same time we don't want to anger these people because we are afraid they will pounce on us like a predatory Stretch Armstrong and proceed to squeeze the life out of us with their boa constrictor arms.
Excuse me for a minute while I puke my guts out. This is the ugliest person I have ever seen in my life. The Terminator called and he would like his mangled face back.
Holy exploding torpedoes of vomit, the ugliness is almost incomprehensible. At first I thought I might have been looking at a sprawling mural depicting the Rape of Nanking in excruciating detail, but after a few minutes of gazing at it in rapt terror, I realized it was just a small child who was dealt and incredibly bad hand.
I'm not sure how much more of this my psyche can withstand. I feel like I am approaching the event horizon of ugliness, and that if I continue even one image further, I will cross the point of no return and be sucked into a very unsightly black hole where no favorable lighting can ever get through. I can only imagine how ruff that would be.
Well now I have really gone and done it. I have crossed the point of no return, and am caught in a hellish vortex of ugliness. I feel myself slipping into a catatonic state, where I am immersed in the white liquid of my plainest nightmares, a churning maelstrom of homogenized terror. It is saturating every fiber of my being, and I feel myself softening and slowly coming apart. And now I am being chomped to bits in the maw of a voracious giant, ugly as sin and without a shred of compassion. My only wish is for the semisweet darkness, where I can never again be the victim of these treacherous mutants.