Or, just for fun, count the amount of times Matthew Cordle (the aforementioned schmuck) uses the word 'I'.
We're supposed to feel sorry for this idiot, I suppose, but I can't help but feel that he's just milking the world for attention and empathy. And I'm absolutely certain that there'll be a book deal waiting for this jackass when he gets out. Because our world rewards poor behavior as long as it's packaged in an entertaining way.
Anyway, I thought about another YouTube video about a teen who inadvertently admitted to assault and robbery, and a Catholic priest who pretty much confessed that 'yeah, we might've been playing a little fast and loose' with the actual day of the Sabbath.' Which of course got my brain going about stupid confessions people make in their desperation for attention so I spent a few hours on YouTube looking for some gems.
The choices boiled down to the following:
1. Pretty girls who admit they're depressed (and that depression is usually caused by mean YouTubers)
2. Pretty girls who used to be skanks but now want to confess how much they love Jesus
3. Gay people coming out
4. Suicidal teens laying it all on the line
5. Lunatics who want to take credit for World War II
6. Horrible accusations disguised as confessions. If you believe these people, there are some horrible mothers out there.
And you want to know what all these videos they all have in common? They were depressing as hell. Was it Emerson who said most men live lives of quiet desperation (I could verify that but I don't want to open up another tab on my browser)? Well, the internet has pretty much removed that quiet part while, sadly, doing nothing about the desperation. Misery is yours at the touch of a button in a hundred different flavors.
Calling these people out seemed suddenly cruel. And what's more I also realized that a blog, the very definition of desperation for attention, is a terrible place to call other people out. So I hit like on all the videos I saw, deleted my article which wasn't even amusing to me, and am now polishing off the Bailey's-- an action whose irony is not lost on me. But I'm not going to drive. And I will not post any drunk confessions later.
Instead of another crappy, hateful blog entry, I'm going to go do some work I need to get caught up on, play with my kids, and go to bed early. Maybe it'll be a better place in the morning.