March 2003

If you're robbing a bank and your pants fall down, I think it's okay to laugh and let the hostages laugh too, because, come on, life is funny.
- Nicholas Butler

Someone told me that sometimes she can't read the articles because I've slashed over them so much. Hmm. I've thought about this, and I've come to the conclusion that I do not care. Besides, all of the articles are the same. Just go read one of the other ones. I seriously considered discontinuing The Museletter because all of the articles are the same. I could paste the older criticisms over, and no one'd notice the difference. Listen again. I'll complain the same way.

The first article, aptly and redundantly titled "Stereotypical Stereotypes," is about an excessively stereotypical teenager who wants to pretend she is anything but. A stereotypical teenager (I assume. I'm not really certain what, if anything, a stereotypical teenager is) would use run-ons (her second sentence), enjoy retarded movies like "Never Been Kissed" (it's her "all-time favorite," except she left out the hyphen), and say that things that aren't rocks or rock stars "rock." I believe, in a desperate attempt to disguise exactly how excessively "stereotypical" this girl is, she obtained a Word-a-Day Calendar. Where else would she have heard the word "trite" and then insisted on using it twice? (The first time incorrectly.) She's trite. And she doesn't rock.

All of the other articles also suck. The end.

Just kidding! Off I go, plodding along.

The second article was a call for action! Hey, underclassmen, listen up! This is for YOU! The "article" (and I use the word very, very loosely) encourages us to start a radio station! In our school! That way, we can hear trite music and idiot news ("And today is the day that Cheese-in-a-Can was invented...") at school! OH WAIT!

Correct me if I'm wrong (I'm not wrong), but we already have a TV station. And they already tell us idiot news and subject us to idiot music. (That's music of the idiots, not idiotic music, you see.) I'd rather they hire a good science teacher or two than waste several million installing a radio station.

The next article encourages every student to be safe over Spring Break (capitalized because the holiday is Holy. Yes. Holy). It's a holier-than-thou letter to the masses by a girl who has probably tried it all. She says she is also a "youth of America." Okay, American Youth (stay away from me - ha, ha), aren't I young and American too? Why is she telling me what I think and feel? How I fit in with MY peers? Maybe SHE feels pressured to drink and fuck to fit in, but I just feel pressure to whore my mind to make another Museletter or else my friends will stop talking to me and I'll be all alone...

What was I saying? Oh, yeah. This article sucks. (But, why do I use words like "yeah" and "suck," and then complain when they do it? Because it's MY SITE, moron, and I can do WHATEVER I WANT. Want to buy a sweatshirt?)

The only reason I was so buggered by the article (other than its complete and utter stupidity) was that the girl almost said "Jesus." I could feel it. Where's the Supreme Court? Someone burn The Legend. Violation! Church and state!

The following piece of stupidity is about terrorism. Well, actually, it's about the girl switching channels from terrorism news coverage to "Friends," only she left out the quotation marks. Oh, wah, don't joke, we're in a war? Don't tell me that crap. You'll end up sounding like this moron. So I'm going to joke: I wish they'd skip D.C. and New York and head straight to Houston and blow her lily ass up.

I changed a lot over Spring Break. But I didn't drink any alcohol.

I wonder how much deeper the ocean would be without sponges.

One thing that'll never change in my teenage life is the amount of stupid rhetorical questions that the newspaper staff uses. "Do we like to live?" "Are Arabs... Arab?" "Does my IQ make you homicidal?" So, in response to this article's desperate and failed attempt to "hook" my attention with her "hook" (which is really not a "hook" at all, but just a retarded rhetorical question), I must say, I wish I could gouge out my eyeballs so that I would have been able to live without ever having read her idiotic article.

It was the longest article in the paper, and it listed all of her friends and how she met them. It practically laundry listed them, actually. I made a lot of slashes, and I can't understand most of it (even if the slashes weren't there, her English is barely coherent), but I do see where she wrote repeatedly "I love God and you should too. Love God, love God, love God." Above this, I wrote "NOOO!!!" and I agree with myself.

I must ask a rhetorical question too. "She wears glasses! How is she so popular?"

The next sentence is not sarcastic. It never ceases to amaze me that these children are able to be so incredibly stupid and yet manage to pull off the most incredible pretension at the same time, even in articles about teenage love. Teenage love? How can you take it seriously enough to be pretentious? You're not listening to me. This girl introduces the topic by talking about "The Adventures of Pete and Pete," some retarded TV show that you shouldn't remember, and she still manages to be pretentious! It boggles the mind.

For example, she uses the term "PDA," and then immediately afterwards, in a parenthetical aside, defines it such: "public display of attention, for those of you who have been living in a cave." Sigh. She writes for cave dwellers, and they are teenagers in a suburban high school.

The photograph of two wiener kids (apparently Pete and his buddy Pete) is credited to the Internet. Thanks, Internet!

This next article doesn't really have anything the matter with it. I posted it because it is the only academic article. Some of the people who read The Museletter never read the actual newspaper (good for you), and I wanted to let you in on some of the academic haps about our school. Also, they can't spell Kaytea's name. It's Kaytea. Kaytea. Also, what on Earth is the NCTE? That's an acronym that they should have spelled out for us.

And the next article, a piece about Iraq, caused me convulsions when I saw it. I yelped and hopped about a bit, and people told me to shut up, but it was astonishing! The girl mentioned TIME Magazine as one of her sources, quoting an article from it! But apparently, she must not have read too closely because she says that France is one of "our biggest allies." Oh, Jacques Chirac would throw a hissy fit!

What really gets the goober (this is a Sugar Land colloquialism) is that she says that "we need to be aware of the reality" of the war. And, of course, she is completely misinformed and idiotic and barely literate. But "we need to be aware." God. Shut the hell up.

And here is the article which always has that misspelled title. And this page, which looks like it should be about entertainment, is titled "Scoreboard." Revolting. Don't they have an editor who, um, edits? I know for certain that they don't have a copy editor. I should be a copy editor, and I would, except I'd keep wanting to hurl people's idiotic articles in their faces. Get out, get out, I'd yell, veins throbbing. Just kidding. I don't have any throbbing veins.

Some people may wonder why I didn't write about the article that tells us about the perfection that is Adrielle Fry, the salutatorian of the graduating class. Other people may realize that I avoided writing about the article because I would have ended up mocking Adrielle Fry (or Ms. Fry. I can't call her just plain old "Adrielle.") And then, Adrielle Fry would discover that I'd mocked her, and she would eat my face.

The losers? Actually, there's just one loser. "Are they worth it": the article about friendship. She had FORTY-SEVEN typos. God. I don't think I've made forty-seven typos in my life. (Why don't you try to count the typos on this site?)

This makes me want to rage. But I won't. I may not do the April Museletter. Maybe Pyongyang'll drop a nuke on the sugar factory, so I won't be alive anyway.

I was the kid next door's imaginary friend.
-Emo Philips

Those quotations are the only part of the newspaper that I don't want to murder. See you kids later.

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