ozy's blog: "into the arms of an angel"

The best comedians is from America, there's no question about that. But what I've noticed here on Fubar, is that the average american, somewhere, lost their touch of irony. And in my opinion, irony plays a big part in good comedy. I've been banned for like, three lounges here, just because some people doesn't get a joke. Or, they can't handle it. OR, they doesn't have the feeling of irony. WHERE IS YOUR SENSE OF IRONY PEOPLE? I can't live without irony, and your paperplanes can't shoot on Irak without gas, right? It's the same thing. Please, readers, guide me to the lounge where people can joke. Where you can take libertys and piss on the bounderies. PLEASE, guide me.

And there I sat. Like a proud man, with swedish tobacco under my lip, and a cheap beer in my hand. My surroundings didn't have the word exclusive written all over it; ikea-furnitures and a playboy-girl on the wall. But it was home, in my own bachelor palace. The tobacco and the beer can, for a while, enchant our senses. It feels fucking great, to be simple. But suddenly, it isn't that cool anymore. Why do I sit here with this beer, all by myself? - We all got our own definition to that question, God said. Don't you have all the answers? - Hell no! I don't ask any questions, and I don't answer them either. I'm just sitting here, having a bud and thinking of a new paradox. If God is almighty, does he then have the ability to create a stone that is so big that he can't lift it up? I once said that to a religious person. "I don't answer paradoxes", he said. What the fuck? The whole bible is a paradox, your mother is a paradox, the whole world and all humans behavior is a paradox!

Well, to start with, I'll have to excuse(?) me for my bad language. And not bad as in, bad words. Bad as in I'm not from your fucking country, and doesn't speak or write it fluently. I'm 22 years old now, like an old fox. It took me 22 years to discover that someone, in some time, killed my angel that supposed to be on my shoulder. You know, like in cartoons, you have the devil that gladly wants you to make the wrong choice. But the angel, sweet little angel, tells you all about the norms and all the right things to handle a certain situation. Well, where is my angel? Maybe, the angel just went away to "buy the newspaper", and never came back. OR, the angel have been brutaly murdered. Because when the shit goes down, and I need my angel, I only have a laughing and shooting devil to lean on. Years later, I've made some bad decisions.