Introduction

 WELCOME TO FREE OPINIONS FOR DUMMIES

My name is Matthew.

This blog is one hundred percent written to satisfy my intestine tearing narcissism. I truly get diarrhea if I don't talk about my opinions enough. I feel a cold pain in my bowels, followed by a very warm pain near my rectum. I must clench, or I will mess myself. I don't even care if anyone really listens, I just have to say it. I must opine on fucking everything. So even if I am the singular person reading this absolute drivel, I'm still going to fucking write it. I'll read it. I'll read it at four AM, when I can't sleep and I need to brainsturbate over my own opinions, like they matter. I'll pretend important people read this. I'll probably picture Conan O' Brien reading this on an inflatable dinosaur in his pool, giggling and punching the air as he agrees with my gospel. I'll envision a day when some publisher puts this shit in some anthology and charges $70 for the hardcover long after I die of a very strange combination of syphilis and sea urchin toxins. In my dream I am in the Virgin Islands, so fuck you. I'm eating conch fritters and pouring dark rum over my head while I splash around like a retarded toddler in two feet of water, wearing a Hawaiian shirt and soiled trunks. That sounds better than your day, and you don't even have to describe it for me to know that with absolute certainty. Even your loyal pet dog knows I'm right. I can see it in his ever-so-honest eyes, looking at you like you're the emperor of a basket of sewage and a variable rate mortgage. He looks at your wife and sees a flesh pouch of demonic, life appropriating corporeal goo. He knows even better than you that her last hair appointment could have paid for a three day golf trip. So what if they would be public courses? Her holes see more balls than those courses do while you're not around, buddy.