Apparently, the Internet Isn’t Just for Pornography Anymore.

Inspired from reading Gizmodo’s Post on Facebook AOLifying the Internet, I wanted to share my random thoughts on web-identity.

A long while back, I decided, “I’m just going to do whatever I want to on my blog and on Facebook, and anyone can read it.  I will be sick, I will make bad jokes, I will try to push people’s buttons and say some offensive garbage.  Who cares?  It’s the internet.”  My first Facebook status was “Antone is cumming all over your pillow.”  I found it amusing that it lead you in with this “Antone is….”  I saw it as a vehicle of dirty comedy.  If you dig into the archives of this blog, you can read stories like: made up dreams in which I kill Jesus, me classifying certain races and how they order pizza, and a lot of profanity.

Now let’s jump forward to today. On Facebook, I’m friends with my mother, my step-mother, my grandma, my grandpa, my girlfriends parents and aunts and uncles galore.  I have to worry about co-workers, employers, potential employers and how they might interpret my online identity.  Since freshman year of college, I have always left my name on the internet as “Antone Henry.”  It’s been my online persona, an over-emphasized version of myself, and go to user name for a plethora of websites.  I keep Facebook and my blog as vehicles to promote my online-self and hopefully provide someone with a little entertainment and me with some creative outlet.

All of that said, I am now filtering myself and I’m not sure how I feel about it.  Now I will start to ramble and maybe eventually figure it out.  I don’t care if my family reads anything I put up on the internet.  Mostly all of the feedback I’ve heard from anybody has been favorable.  They seem to enjoy it even.  But it’s the getting and keeping jobs thing that drives me nuts.  I have posted some nasty content on the internet over the years, I embarrassed myself once , but I have yet to apologize.  I’m proud of that.  I want to express whatever troubling version of myself in whatever way I would like to, be it a blog that nobody reads or a Facebook profile that everyone does.  I don’t want an employer to read either or and decide that I’m not fit for the job because they read a delightful story about feces. So now I’m version 3.0 of my website (the cleanest one to date,) and privatized my profile on Facebook.  Why?  There’s a tiny percentage of people in the world that control if I get work in the freelance industry or not.  I don’t want to offend any one of them, or someone else I might work with, and not get work.

I get being professional, but here I don’t want to be.  I want to be Antone Henry (dot com) and I want to say absurd things and not be afraid someone I haven’t met yet is going to see it and then I will never meet them.  Or!  Someone I met 20 hours ago, sent a friend request 20 minutes ago, now reads this and I never see them again.  Have you met me?  I’m fucking harmless.  And even the stuff I say isn’t directed towards anybody.  It’s usually observational or me thinking out loud.  I will be completely courteous to you and yours, but I will not (completely) filter my online-self.  I don’t believe in a god, I drink too much, and I smoke too many cigarettes.  That’s the real Antone, take issue with that.

I should probably wrap this up, as I’m losing interest, so I will put a bow on it.  You’re all a bunch of [racial slur] [body part] sucking [homophobic term].  And if you can figure out what I’m filtering, you’re just as bad as me.

Disclaimer:  Real Antone works very hard, learns fast, and is a brilliant Production Assistant.  Every crew he has worked with has been very happy to have him.  You will too.

Posted: March 12th, 2011
Categories: Thinking, That's All
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I’m Giving Away T-Shirts!

Click me to go to the album!

Please help me.

I can not decide which shirts to get rid of. I need you to tell me what to do.

The average age of each of these t-shirts is ten years (guesstimate.) Even though they usually just sit in my drawer, I can’t seem to let them go.

This is where yo

u come in. Please click the like button on Facebook of the shirt you think I should keep, even give me some reason why or why not. I will keep the top 3 shirts for the rest of my life, and the others will be on their way to Goodwill.

Shirts going to Goodwill on: 02-01-11

Posted: January 25th, 2011
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meow

I like kittens.

Posted: January 20th, 2011
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Para Español, oprima numero dos.

I would just like to riff a moment about the whole process of calling in somewhere for technical support.  There are many gripes that every single person can relate to.  For the sake of relate-ability, let’s just say we’re talking about calling your cell phone company.   First, you have to navigate the extreme maze that is the pre-recorded menu; god help you if it’s one of the ones that you have to talk to.

“For English, say ‘English.’”

“English.”

“I’m sorry, I didn’t understand you, please try again.”

“Ennnglish.”

“I’m sorry, I didn’t understand you, please try again.”

“Eeennnnglliiiiiishhhh.”¹

“For English, press 1 on your keypad…”

Finally you get to the part where you are going to get to talk to someone, then the recording tells you to describe the problem you’re having to her.²  It’s about at this point you realize, “If I push 0, I might be able to bypass all this bullshit.”  You give it a try, you get to start all over.

So you make it to be on hold after five minutes of menu navigation, they play some music.  I don’t care what the music is, but for some reason it’s always the world’s worst connection.  They they’re playing the music via cell phone from a tunnel in the Ukraine.  It cuts out every couple of minutes and you sit up straight and get ready to get your problems fixed, but the music kicks back in, or some lady tells you how special you are and to keep waiting.  You put it on speaker, decide to take a pee after a half hour of waiting, and right when your stream hits the water, “Hi, my name is Daniel, thank you for calling technical support.”  Your sense of panic that you’re going to miss the moment you’ve now waited thirty-five minutes for.  But you get to the phone just in time to verify an asinine amount of information to ask why you’re not able to get text messages.

Now your techie is reading from the same webpage that you’ve already read on their site.  And you already know they need to reset your account on their end, but they want you to turn your phone off for thirty seconds, take out the battery for a minute, throw your hands up in the air and pray to some deity, and make a sandwich to see if that helps.

I just don’t get how people get these jobs.  Shouldn’t there be some sort of prerequisite for these folks, like an IT degree or shouldn’t the company train them to actually understand the products and services that they are representing?  I would be a huge dick to these folks, but you know, it’s not really their fault.  I just use a lot of pleasant, “I knows” and “Yes, I tried thats,” until they get to the point where they give up and just do their system reset or offer to set you up with a new phone/computer/cheese grater/whatever.

This senseless rant was brought to you for no good reason by boredom in Kentucky.   Thank you for your time.

¹English mother-fucker, do you speak it?

² (Cause all the recording voices are female.  I would feel more comfortable if it were a man.  It would give me more confidence that someone who is giving me some sort of nerd technical support actually has testicles and probably knows what he’s talking about.  Not that women can’t know about these things, but the female nerd gene isn’t exactly common.)

Posted: August 12th, 2010
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Top Road Trip Foods

1. Beef Jerkey – Nothing beats a healthy and salty snack of pure meat. That’s what she said. Also if you don’t have a fart to smell up the car, at least when you open the bag it can almost have the same effect.

2. Combos – You’re basically eating pizza, nachos, or other kinds of pizza and nachos that’s been condensed into one little roll.

3. Gas Station Sandwiches – This is the kind of time that you browse the cooler like you’re picking out the name of your firstborn. Its a commitment. You eat these things like three times a year, and you never feel that confident about buying a sandwich that might have been sitting on the shelf for months, but you just have that craving for a freaking chuckwagon. Who knows what’s in it? Who cares? I reccomend the chicken chipotle flat bread sandwich from Super America, quite a treat.

4. Sunflower Seeds – Nothing passes time like eating, that’s why sunflower seeds make a great number four. It takes a good 30 seconds to get on little morsel of food, so when you get through a handful you feel accomplished. Plus you have a reason to roll the window down and put your hand out a bunch while throwing your shells out.

5. Energy Drinks – I know you drink it, but while you’re pigging out on junk food, you might as well pig out on your favorite brand of energy drink. After a bag of combos and three Monsters, you will surely feel like a million bucks.

This post kept me busy for twenty minutes on my way to Iowa.

Posted: June 25th, 2010
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Ants in the Ears!

So I was having a very strange dream.  I was in a hospital walking around and there were a bunch of guys my age that were all prepped for some sort of eye surgery.  Blah Blah Blah, no one cares about your dreams, they’re boring. The only interesting part is that as it’s coming to a close and I’m half waking up with the feeling of something crawling on my neck and cheek, a lady doctor stops me from entering a room and says, “What is written on Jeff’s table?” Starts to close the door, and then a fucking ant crawls in my ear.

This is how I wake up this morning.  I’m trying to figure out what the hell is going on.   And in my ear is this crazy noise, like water is filling up my ear.  Must have been the ant burrowing.  So for thirty seconds I’m clawing at my ear in a bit of a panic, nothing is happening cept every few seconds I hear that noise again.  Eventually I just face my ear to the floor and pull open my ear as wide as I can, and it just dropped out.   Can’t find the little bastard now, but I hope he’s dead.

Posted: May 31st, 2010
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It’s Just Not Fair

Target FieldI am just ever so patiently waiting to go to the new Twins stadium to see them play.   As some may know, I was in Europe for about 25 days or something.  Originally planned as a 19 day trip to visit and travel with my lady friend, I was grounded by an Icelandic volcano that shut down airports all over Europe.  Luckily, I had a place to stay, and good company.  I was supposed to be back on the 19th, which meant I would be able to go to the Twins game on the 20th.  But, volcano.  I had even bought a ticket, that left an empty seat where my butt could have been.  But my butt was in Ireland, which is probably the more preferable of the two places.

I just wish that Major League Baseball would change around the schedule.  I’m back now, I’m ready to see a live game.  So just change this Detroit series to here, and we’ll be doing just fine.  I really don’t want to wait until next week.  That’s just not fair, Baseball.  I’ve been so loyal to you.  I haven’t fallen in love with other sports, I don’t claim any other as my true lover.  I just don’t get why you can’t work with me here.

I guess Baseball and I’s relationship is more like prostitution.  I give her money, and she gives me satisfaction.  If she’s out turning tricks elsewhere, well I guess I just have to wait my turn.  You dirty whore, Baseball.

Posted: April 27th, 2010
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Folgers Commercials

Why does Folgers insist on making me feel so awkward when I watch their nauseatingly cheesy commercials.

Now today, I’m doing some researching on how to patch up holes in some of my dress pants, and this commercial plays.

Neither of these commercials really say anything about Folgers itself, which I get, but I would think the first add is some sort of commercial for a travel agency or church or incest prevention organization, and the second commercial be a jewelers commercial.  The commercials really just leave me speechless.  I vomit, and then feel a little bit violated.  As if Folgers is trying to rape my emotions by making the most over the top, heartwarming sorts of ads I will ever have the displeasure of consuming.  Don’t you exploit my innocence, you bastard Folgers.

Posted: April 26th, 2010
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I’m a Mac. I’m a PC. I’m Brainwashed.

This has been a lomac-pc-commercialng time coming from me.  Apple has successfully duped a huge portion of the market share into thinking their products are some how superior to that of any other brand.  I am known to my friends and family and such as a knowledgeable person when it comes to purchasing, using, and servicing all sorts of electronic devices.  I will agree with them, but I am no programming or A+ certified kind of whiz.  I’m a consumer who educates himself and tries his best to take care of his own problems related to his pieces of technology all for one reason, I am cheap.  So when someone comes to me and says, “I’m going to buy a Macbook,” I ask the question, “What are you going to use this computer for?”  Usually the response is something to do with school or work.  Nothing you could use a PC for.

This is not an ad for Windows.  Hell we’ve all had our share of problems using that operating system.  Not based on it’s suckiness, it’s just so damn popular that hackers/bakers/infants can make a program to run on it.  With so much shit out there for you to clog  your computer’s arteries with, and your average computer user’s non-knowledge of how to use this expensive porn box they bought, this leads the user to believe in all of this anti-Windows slander.barney

Now let’s get to what I really want to bitch about.  If I am using a Mac, I am young, kinda attractive, pretty hip.  If I am using a PC, I’m overweight, dimwitted, can’t see very well without glasses, and some sort of no-fun person wearing a suit.  Obviously, Apple has never heard of Barney Stinson.  But that’s another topic.

What really gets under my skin is people somehow believing that because Apple computers are ridiculously expensive, have pretty looking cases, and slick ad campaigns that means all of their products are better than their competition.  I really just don’t want to hear another dullard try to explain to me how the Mac is better than the PC.  Here’s a clue, idiot, they are the same god damn thing. You’re not aligning yourself with a different, current, and hip computing device, you’re aligning yourself with a brand.  A brand that rapes you for your money, and let’s you believe it was well spent.

Now, by all means, using OSX because of the software sold for it is a different story.  Some folks need themselves Final Cut, or iMovie, or Garage Band or things like that.  There aren’t too many great video/audio editing programs that run for Windows.   Not that match up to the usefulness of the OSX programs.

Just do some research before throwing away an extra 700 dollars on a computer that you’re only using to play Farmville and check email.  You’ll see that there’s no reason to give that silly fruit double of what you can pay for the same quality of machine.

This entry didn’t turn out as good as I expected.  It was supposed to be more entertaining, it’s really just nerdy.  I guess now it’s a mission to save you a little bit of cash.  Or hire me to build you a “Mac” for a lot cheaper than buying one at the Apple store or Best Buy.  It’s not even well put together.  Oh well.  Sucks you read it.

Good trick I played on you, dummy.

Posted: February 26th, 2010
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The American Crow Makes Me Want to Buy a Pellet Gun

Stupid Fucking Bird

Stupid Fucking Bird

Just about everyday now, I wake up to this stupid bird caw-ing all over.  It’s not even “caw” and then a few seconds go by, it’s cawcawcawcawcawcawcawcaw a good twenty to thirty times in a row.  What the hell is he yelling at?  I’ll never know.

All I do know, is that I would have no reservations in going over to the sporting goods store and buying a pellet gun, some pellets, and finding the bird that hangs out in our neighborhood and putting it down for the big sleep.  Yes, it is innocent, but apparently I have a short temper and want to see him lying dead on the ground so that the stray cats in the neighborhood can feast on his lifeless carcass.  I couldn’t even find some sort of info that says his call is to warn other birds to stay away cause this is his domain, so obviously he just does it cause he a is an attention whore.

Maybe I will just build a scarecrow.  But then he’ll just not eat my corn.  Bastard.

Posted: November 4th, 2009
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