Wow. Apparently you’ve found a link to a page that generates self-aggrandizing bullshit. I tried it and here’s what mine said:
I am a professional masturbator.
In a world that seems to be rapidly spinning out of control, I move my hand up and down to steady it. My small hand. My messy hand. For me, it is enough that I try. I masturbate for a living. I search, in essence, about my essence. About playing with myself. This may be of little importance against the stark and horrific background of a world ravaged by hatred and fear, but to me it is important. In a world where punching the munchkin can still be embraced is a world that still nurtures the hope and dreams of children. Children of any age. I write a blog about self-entertainment and challenges that spring not from hate or anger, but from internet porn and imagination. I like to write about buttering my corn, if only to offer a few words of reflection and an occasional pompous ode to myself to this cruel and inhospitable world. Perhaps, I can offer a smile or two to take the reader away from the stresses and sorrows of the world–if only for a few moments. Perhaps I’ll use inflated prose to conceal my bad writing. My sentence fragments. I am not the cure for what ails the world but I am proud in the fact that I do not contribute to those ailments. I am proud that I live in a society where someone can make a living as a professional masturbator even though I in no way real way contribute to that society. I may not cure cancer. I may not save anyone’s life. I may not do anything worth remembering in my lifetime. Despite the relative unimportance of what I do, I am ennobled by the intention. It’s only waxing the rocket, one could say, but in the spirit of self-absorbtion and my apathy there lies a terrible world I don’t do much to improve. From the spirit of that self-play comes my stupid delusion that the absence of vice is the same as the presence of virtue.
(My apologies to Chick, Bub, Asher, Morris, Vede and other writers I respect who would be offended by this parody. There’s nothing wrong with being a games journalist, but damn, I hope you don’t feel “ennobled by the intention.”)
My father was a rocket engineer before becoming an MD, and later an MBA. My grandfather was a meteorologist for the government, and was intimately involved with the Apollo program at NASA.
I write about video games for a living. I’m just happy that my family still talks to me. lol.
Did your grandfather work out of Houston or Kennedy Space Center? My father worked at KSC with Apollo. I grew up with the Saturn Vs rattling our doors and windows during every launch. Good times.
Actually I did note the original date. I had heard about this piece of writing from a few people, but never actually found it. It’s probably what irritated me the most about this tone of “I realize how horrible this world is, but I can’t be bothered to do anything about. But somehow, writing about games for a living lets me delude myself into thinking I am doing some good by not doing any real bad.” It is, to me, a galling and pompous rationalizition of apathy and insignificance. I was a game writer too when 9/11 happened, and all I felt was lucky; lucky that I had a job that I loved so much; lucky to live in a country so amazingly wealthy that there are jobs where people are paid to have fun. I didn’t try to pretend that being an insignificant cog in a pretty insignificant industry was somehow “ennobling.”
I’m not sure he ever worked in any once place long, John. My grandmother used to tell me stories about how my grandfather would get calls in the middle of the night and then be forced to leave for days or weeks at a time without being able to tell her his location or duties. Crazy stuff that government work. I think he just had a chick on the side.
What I do know is that when the original splash-down site for Apollo 11 got stormed out very close to the astronaut’s return, my grandfather was called in to find the next best location for them.
As a little kid, I always thought that was an amazing story…
What difference does the date make? Jim is right on the money here. It doesn’t matter WHEN it was written. In fact, it might even be MORE self-absorbed because of when it was written. The masturbation version is hilarious, btw. I don’t often get to laugh out loud while reading something on the internet :).
