If you are alive, like many others, you are probably well aware that the world is shit and life sucks ass.

This may seem a little pessimistic, but like every good pessimist, I prefer to call myself a “realist.” That way, I get to call anyone who disagrees with me an idealistic goddamn hippie.

If you don’t believe me when I say that life is shit, then consider the following: There are babies with AIDS, cigarettes are more than 10 bucks a pack and Bil Keane, the guy who draws the Family Circus cartoons, is alive and well at the ripe old age of 87.

Still not convinced? Well how about this: Nickelback.

Now that we all agree, I think we can move on to trying to figure out why life sucks so much.

Everyone is always trying to pinpoint the downfall of Western Civilization, but few people have ever been insightful enough to actually figure it out.

If you haven’t yet picked up on the implication I’m making, let me spell it out for you: I am insightful enough to know what’s wrong with the world. Not only that, but I’m willing to share this valuable information with all of you nice people for the low, low price of nothing but the time it takes you to read this. So are you ready to hear what makes our lives suck so much?

It’s the freedom of the press.

This might sound strange at first, coming from someone like me, who is right in the middle of exercising the freedom of the press. Let me explain before you get your panties in a bunch.

The reason I think that the freedom of the press is making our lives so shitty is entirely because of people like me. I truly believe that your life would be much better if you weren’t reading this stupid article right now. Let me illustrate my point further.

Because of the freedom I have in this column to get up on my soapbox and announce whatever crackhead opinion might sneak its way into my head, I can say stuff like this: If you are reading this then you suck and I think you should fuck yourself.

Are you better off now that I’ve told you to fuck yourself? Are you going to take my advice and get a cheap hotel room with yourself (under a fake name, obviously) and go to town and ravage your own body in a fit of aggressive sexuality? I doubt it.

Is your life going to be better because I told you to fuck yourself? Probably not. In fact, you’re probably wishing that you could have the last five minutes of your life back right now. You know what? I am too.

That’s why I fully support total censorship of the press. Sure you’ll hear a lot about how great a job Sam Katz is doing, but at least you won’t have to read any of my stupid bullshit.

J. Williamez both loves and hates his intellect, because it leads him to conclusions like this.

Published in Volume 64, Number 24 of The Uniter (March 25, 2010)