Damon Talks with a Mysterious Man(?) on Omegle

Here begins the newest, most amazing musing from The Loudest Fan. Bow appropriately:

As I've mentioned before, I'm fairly close with a certain poet named Damon. We've known each other really well for quite some time. So, it's not so unusual for him to have called me at 7 AM (way too freaking early for me to put up with just about anybody else), stammering about something that I absolutely MUST see/hear. This morning, that went a little something like this:

The Loudest Fan: Nnnnn. . . Ullo?

Damon: DUDE.

TLF: . . . Damon? Why now? I should murder you for interrupting yet another amazingly intricate dream I won't ever remember.

D: Sorry, but dude. You. Have. To. See. This.

TLF: See what?

D: I'm e-mailing it to you now. It's pretty self-explanatory.

TLF: What's pretty self-

-CLICK-

TLF: Goddamnit, Damon.


So he sends me this Word document, and it's a transcript of an Omegle conversation he had apparently just had after not sleeping all night. For those not in the know, Omegle.com is a chat site that connects you anonymously with Strangers from anywhere in the world. Much like Chatroulette, if you're on the video portion of the site, or much like Chatroulette in text form if you're on the other half of it (same amount of penises looking for sex either way). I've used it once or twice to cure boredom, and Damon has managed to make a lasting friendship once or twice with how frequently he used to use it. Apparently, he has since gotten back in the habit of visiting it during some of his bouts of insomnia, and the following transcript (which, by the way, was totally worth the 7 AM call, as you'll soon see) documents one such episode during this past sleepless night, completely uncut and unfiltered. Be aware, the time taken between individual lines could be anywhere from nearly immediate to a couple of minutes, so try not to read it too quickly and straight through, as I incorrectly did the first time I looked through it. Enjoy:

You're now chatting with a random stranger. Say hi!

Official messages from Omegle will not be sent with the label 'Stranger:' Strangers claiming to represent Omegle are lying.

You: howdy

Stranger: hi

Stranger: m or f?

You: how are you, Stranger?

You: ah

You: do you mind if we let that arise more naturally in conversation?

You: if you're looking for sex, press onward and skip me

You: or be silent

You: I guess that works too

You: it's as if I'm writing a blog now, with how one-sided this is

You: I feel like I should be starting a rant of some kind. "what's the deal with... ?" type stuff

You: what do you think?

You: should I continue to tolerate your choice to ignore me completely?

You: or should I press that mighty-fine Disconnect button about now?

You: or will you do that for me?

You: I never was much good at finishing anything

You: I did need an extra quarter or two of school to finish my degree

You: now this is starting to feel like a Confessional

You: taking me back to my more Catholic days

You: I am sorry, Father, for I have sinned

You: it has been over 4 years since my last confession

You: actually, I'm not much sorry

You: my attitude towards the Church and towards the idea of 'sin' have both changed dramatically

You: so... yeah...

You: not sure where you wanna go from here, seeing as you won't find much penitence in this ol' heart

You: Father?

You: were you even listening!?

You: what kind of priest are you!?!?!?

You: do you not care for this prodigal sheep, intent on never returning to the fold???

You: apparently not

You: I failed the Church, and now the Church fails me

You: such is this dreary existence

You: "So it goes," as good Mr. V would say

You: (that was the sound of Faith dying)

You: not some person by the name of Faith, mind you

You: that would be tragic

You: especially since that's the name of my baby cousin

You: she's fine, I hope

You: I really do

You: I'm not so pessimistic and brooding and morbid

You: I do have that lighter side to me

You: I swears it

You: please believe me

You: PLEASE

You: that was your chance to Save me, Father

You: long gone and historical, by now

You: that was redundant

You: long gone vs historical

You: they're the same thing

You: silly me

You: just end it already

You: say something, anything, or disconnect

You: you can't be enjoying this spectacle of mine

You: if you are, you're genuinely quite sick, Father

You: I hate that you know I'm too neurotic to let things pass by silently

You: you win in this verbal staring-contest

You: you're judging me, aren't you?

You: getting ready to cast that first stone

You: cast away, then!

You: Mr. Hanks

You: with your bloody volleyball, Wilson

You: and your gross self-extracted tooth

You: that scene gets me every goddamn time

You: blasphemy intended

You: FATHER

You: is it time I start hitting below the proverbial belt?

You: did that talk of blood and pain get you riled up?

You: thinking about them boys you've 'touched'?

You: never me, though

You: was i not... bad enough?

You: but then I'd think the prudishness would have been a draw for you

You: even more innocence for you to corrupt under the guise of Salvation

You: you just thought I was an ugly child, didn't you?

You: too short

You: with a silly-big head

You: goofy ears

You: and an overbite to rival the most racist of anti-japanese propaganda films of the 40s

You: have the japanese not suffered enough?

You: they bomb one naval base and pillage and rape a few Asian countries

You: and we intern innocent Japanese-Americans

You: drop not one, but two atomic bombs

You: only after months of devastating fire bombing

You: just to have you get hit by a devastating tsunami and for us to label it "payback for Pearl Harbor"?

You: disgusting

You: i dunno why i all-of-a-sudden cast you in the role of Japan at the end of that

You: kind of a weird shift

You: that literally changed from 'them' to 'you'

You: Freudian slip of some sort?

You: do I see you as having something in common with the plight of the Japanese?

You: are you really just a victim too, Father?

You: is that how you get me to champion the cause of allowing priests to marry?

You: what an incredibly roundabout way of doing so, man

You: the levels of implausibility involved are completely absurd

You: you'd have to be, well, God for that to have worked out

You: wait a minute...

You: is it You?

You: I guess it must be

You: kind of characteristic of You, after all

You: what with the lack of verbal reciprocation

You: spare me a moment whilst I pee, please

You: I'm sure you've got plenty of time, being omnicient and present throughout all eternity and all

You: back again

You: but you already know that, don't you?

You: so what happens if I disconnect, knowing what I know now?

You: do I perish?

You: even if this isn't You who I'm literally talking to on omegle

You: theoretically (and I'm sure You hate that qualifier), You see this anyway

You: and will understand the implications of my actions

You: will Thou smiteth me?

You: I mean, I was blasphemous just a short time ago, so I didn't really start on too good a foot

Your conversational partner has disconnected.
Start a new conversation or switch to video or send us feedback
Was this conversation great? Download the log!

DAMON'S NOTE: I cannot stress enough that this all really happened and appears exactly as it was typed. Whoever I was talking to definitely saw all of this and consciously disconnected when they did.


Great stuff, Damon. The timing of the disconnect couldn't have been more perfect. As I've said before, I actually do talk regularly with the Big Man, and He confirms that it was indeed Him that you were talking to (talking at, really). I guess He entertains himself on Omegle every once in a while, too, just to mess with people. He said that in your case, eventually, He just got bored. Go figure. Now let me get back to sleep, jerk.

Adventures in Hypnotica

Here begins the newest, most amazing musing from The Loudest Fan. Bow appropriately:

Lookout, folks. This post is a dreams post.

I know what you're thinking. I've read the Cracked article that argues that nobody cares about your dreams. And Dan O'Brien is absolutely right: nobody cares about your dreams. My dreams, however, are a different beast entirely, and this post will prove that right in your little face.

Usually, I don't remember my dreams, since my day-to-day life is plenty exciting enough. However, on the few occasions where I do remember them, I bask in how well my brain can entertain and/or mess with itself. It's really quite masterful. Let me show you how via my most recently-remembered of dreams:

NOTE: I will not bog you down in specific details of plot, character or imagery- this is gonna be more about how my dreams raise the stakes intellectually over all of your inferior dreams.

First off, my dream(s) took a page out of Inception's book last night. That's right: I had a dream within a dream within a dream. Unlike the Nolan film, I started out in the deepest layer of Hypnotica (that's the continent where dreams happen. Duh.). I don't remember a whole lot from this layer, except that it involved the usual trope of losing teeth and that an ex-girlfriend from a few years back made an appearance. Christ, those are always the worst.

"Really? Her?" (credit.)

So far, this is pretty usual fare for Dreamlandia (a sovereign nation within Hypnotica). The losing teeth bit is a common trope that supposedly indicates anxiety. Sure, your Loudest Fan has his share of anxieties. He is mostly human, after all (the touch of divinity has yet to be scientifically proven. It's only a matter of time, though). They're just better and more awesome than your puny anxieties.

You see, my next layer of Dreamwood Forest (that one should be pretty straightforward) involved me waking up in my parent's house, with most of a mouthful of teeth falling out. Realistically so, with blood and parents freaking out and all. What makes this scene particularly novel is my conscious realization of, "Hey, this is a pretty clichéd scene for a dream. That must mean I'm dreaming." I was able to calm-down myself as well as my family just with that; my mouth was going to be fine in real life, this was just a self-aware dream. So I figured, "Why don't I just wake myself up and get this over with?"

So I did. Into the final realm of Hallucinatopia. The funny thing about this one was that it was the exact same setting and involved the same set of characters as the previous one. This time, another significant quantity of teeth were falling out in the same fashion, but they were different individual teeth, and this time felt even more real. I went to a mirror and slapped myself in the face to see if I was still dreaming (still self-aware, I was), and I totally felt it. When I told my parents that I was certain I was not dreaming this time, they became as worried as I was. Of course, I somehow didn't pick up on the strangeness that they would remember the events from the previous dream-layer. I guess my dreaming only gets selectively self-aware. The remainder of the dream was occupied by arguments and discussions over what the dental bills were gonna be like. Finally, I awoke in an apartment with a complete set of teeth and began writing a draft of a blog post about the whole experience [insert spinning top joke here].

In summation: my dreams are better than yours, since they involved an amped-up brain that takes pleasure only in screwing with itself in the most complicated ways imaginable.

The List of Lists for the Listless

Here begins the newest, most amazing musing from The Loudest Fan. Bow appropriately:

This post is an attempt to get more awesome things to show up in my ads, rather than banners for certain religions and political causes and such. So, the following is a list dripping with worthwhileness, approved by me.

Me
Dexter
Scott Pilgrim
Mario Kart Wii
Matt Besser
Sailor Jerry's Rum
Lawson Fusao Inada
Zooey Deschanel
Certain other women
Freaks & Geeks
David Fincher
Me
Comedy Death Ray Radio
Kevin Love
NCAA Div-I Athletics
Rob Huebel
Italian food
Jonathan Swift
Cracked.com
Streetlight Manifesto
Form over Content
Cherry Fanta
The West Coast
Federico Fellini
Me
LOST
The number 42
How the number '42' looks in this font
WTF with Marc Maron
twitter.com/theloudestfan
Charlie Kaufman
The Pipes of the Internet
Arrested Development
Robert Browning
Most Apple products
Lucille's Smokehouse BBQ
Showtime & HBO original programming
Cats, as opposed to dogs
Paul F. Tompkins
Drifter Pale Ale
Brevity
Doug Loves Movies
Adult Swim
Stanley Kubrick
Me
The Who
theloudestfan.blogspot.com
The Truman Show
Oscar Wilde
Mint ice cream with most any chocolate topping
Bob Ducca
AC/DC, as fronted by Bon Scott
BJ's Brewhouse
And last, but certainly nowhere even close to least, Me.

Liking the items on this list is a great start to succeeding at life, forever. You're welcome.

Supporting local artists since 2011

Here begins the newest, most amazing musing from The Loudest Fan. Bow appropriately:

I'm back. No more intrusions from my Swiftian alter-alter ego (for now...).

In this post, your Loudest Fan gets altruistic. Hard. That's right, folks. This post is all about supporting the local arts, and I have managed to find one worthy artist to promote on this beast of a blog.

His name: Damon Sellers. He considers himself some kind of poet. In fact, he once helped your humbly-awesome author to write a poem of his own for this very blog. He is devoted to form, sometimes shows a flash of misogyny (think about our collaboration), and he often demonstrates a certain playfulness that I've always admired. He makes it onto my list of "People Allowed to Continue Living" (also populated by the likes of myself, Rob Huebel, and, paradoxically, Bon Scott). In my desperation to fill this blog with more and more content, I will take the time in certain posts here and there from now until the bitter end to highlight certain works of his, in the hopes of increasing his artistic exposure, and in the hopes of making this awesometastic rag all the more worthwhile.

So, get yourself some good, old-fashioned culture, and bask in its glory:"That one," Damon says, "is probably the best I'll ever do."

"Dunno if I'll ever try my hand at concrete stuff again, but I like how this one turned out." So do I.
"My tribute to one of my favorites, Robert Browning.""My newest work. I'd love to hear what your readers think." Well, I dig it.

Good stuff, Damon, and best of luck to you.

The Mask Slips

Here begins the newest, most amazing musing from The Loudest Fan. Bow appropriately:

^^^ Not true, from here on out (yet another double-preposition phrase for that Dr. Boring fellow...). For this post, I'm just gonna be me. I want everyone to be clear that The Loudest Fan is a persona, and does not accurately reflect my personal views and beliefs. Nothing in this blog is true. This entire persona is meant to be a satire of all I find wrong in this world, and it draws upon gross exaggerations of personality defects I happen to detest. It saddens me to no end how many people seem to be completely missing the point. So now, let's take a moment to get to know the real, much more decent me.

Name: Daemin Cellars

Age: 21

Height: 5' 7"

Hometown: Temecula, CA

Religion: LDS

Political views: Conservative (Tea Party, whoop whoop!)

School: 4th year at the University of Southern Californa

Major: Political Science

This whole blogging adventure has been a fun exercise, but I have to admit, I've had some strong qualms about some of my own blaspheming. Most glaring, I once actually tried to defend the moral vacuum that is gay marriage. I wish people would pick up on the elements of satire in that post, but it seems like I really just managed to defend it outright, and that that's the impression that was left upon my readers (many of which are newfound followers, who won't have known the real me until now), which is NOT OK. The last thing I want is for a gay to start hitting on me or touching me because I seemed sympathetic to its plight. And plight it is. It struggles against the Will of God and against Human Decency to live through its hedonistic life choices. Its practices of sodomy and of premature cohabitation and of idolatry (fashion = new god?) have overrun our media and have even managed to help bring about what very well could prove to be the Antichrist--666 emblazoned on his skull and all--Mr. "President"... but I'll save THAT debate for another post (it just makes sense, what with all the violence inherent to Muslimism and all the Godlessness and inhumanity at the base of Socialism).

So, with the proverbial nail driven firmly into the coffin of that debate, let's move on further to newer, more exciting territory.

I want to use my new position as Preacher to the World of the Internet (a.k.a. Blogger) to get the murmurs going on a new potential for real social change. I have a really original and great idea that will help use the mighty force of American Capitalism to end poverty and feed the hungry, as God wishes us to do. Let me show you what I can humbly say will make me a national hero:

Out of all industries dedicated to triviality and waste, which is the worst? Is it entertainment, with all its tendencies towards brainwashing and misinformation? Or how about the seedy sex industry, which does nothing but promote blasphemy and destroy families? No. By far, the most wasteful industry is one almost every one of us has in some way supported needlessly. I'm speaking, of course, about the pet industry.

Let's get to the point. Each year, billions of pounds of food are rationed for pets, only to be consumed by organisms that do absolutely nothing to contribute to the betterment of Church and society. God created man to be the master of all beasts, and yet so many of our brothers and sisters in the world allow simple creatures to exercise control, demanding food and care in exchange for a farce of a relationship greatly outperformed by children and spouses and friends. Just imagine how much more time and money can be spent for and with your fellow man if little Whiskers didn't need more food & litter to come straight from your wallet.

Next, imagine the surplus of supply that would be created by the loss of the pet food industry! We'd be swimming in even more beef and pork and fish and corn than ever before! These lower-grade foodstuffs could then be diverted into the human food industry, supplying the cheapest outlets, allowing the better-grade foods a chance to reach a cheaper equilibrium. More people will be fed for much less money, and higher-quality food will inevitably be more accessible by virtue of none of it going towards lower-standard food, like fast food and school lunches, which the newly-diverted supply would more than fill, and then some.

On top of that, no money will be spent on pet care per family. That, coupled with the lower cost of food, will encourage spending in other industries, bringing about an economic surge that will be advantageous to all. Jobs will be created as consumers save, and then spend, so much. Children's toys and other manufactured industries will also see an increase in supply of cheap plastic and rubber without any waste going towards pet toys. Space for new frontier businesses will open up from all the vacated pet stores and animal shelters. Health supply will increase from the closing of most veterinary practices, with only small portions of it going towards what little animal care remains with zoos and such (though, do we even need those?).

On top of that, we will have introduced a new potential resource: a surplus of cats and dogs and rodents and birds and fish to be used by the whims of Capitalism. More available animal research! An even greater food source with the introduction of dogmeat (most all pets exist as delicacies in other cultures throughout the world as we speak, so a greater sense of global community, too!)! More fabric supply due to the greater availability of furs! More easily-renewable menial labor potential that comes without wasteful needs for wages nor workplace regulations! The opportunities are literally limitless! The free market will lead the way!

I feel I'm rambling too much at this point. I just get really excited by such boundless horizons, and I get so eager to share them with my brethren. I'm anxious to see how many people can bring themselves to see the Light and can help me bring about real, promise-ridden Change.

At the very least, you all now know the true origins of The Loudest Fan, and can see him in the light in which I always intended him to be viewed. He'll still be the primary voice of this space after all this, but I've let you see the voicebox tonight. And with that, a humbled Daemin bows out.

A Breadwinner of a Post

Here begins the newest, most amazing musing from The Loudest Fan. Bow appropriately:

It seems my self-promotion is already paying-off. Thanks to all of my new followers. YOU'VE MADE THE RIGHT CHOICE.

Now, to get angry.

I want to continue talking about both human entitlement and "selling out." SO I WILL. Tough titties to all those hoping for me to change the subject up a bit. I'm writing more frequently now. Isn't that enough for you people? ARE YOU NOT ENTERTAINED? [cue Joaquin Phoenix's pouty-face]


Art (all creative content, for that matter) absolutely should and must be free. By free, I mean openly available to all. At least, to me. No question about it. Creative content that is not openly available to all/me lacks accountability, for which I am the ultimate judge, above all others. For creative content to have any value, it must be accountable for whatever it accomplishes, which in itself is entirely dependent upon its audiences and their ability to access it. I'm saying nothing new here.

In a perfect universe, creators create and... that's it. Creators create. Unfortunately, this universe is drastically imperfect, solely because it contains life besides mine. Life is imperfection, imperfection is life. Once again, nothing new (BE PATIENT). So, creators create, but must also live. For them, life is not only an imperfect process of providing for themselves, but providing for their creations as well, be they paintings, movies, books, blogs, children, etc. No creation is free in the sense of being uninhibited in its development and nurture. Life stands in the way, most every step of said way, unless you know how to kick it in its stupid face. Where creation transcends into art is in the artist's mastery of manipulation (i.e. face-kicking), turning that inhibition of life (be it a monetary limit, a cultural pressure, a time constraint, what have you) against itself to ensure the creation's nourishment even further. Lemons into lemonade. More accurately, water into lemonade, once the lemons drop from the tree and hit you on the head. Limeade is better, though.

So, why do we as a culture hold so much against a creator who embraces commodification (patent pending on that word), be it via sales or with advertising? Artistic integrity? That's only compromised if it's compromised. Even something as invasive as product placement can be manipulated by a skilled artist to contribute artistically to the work- satire is usually the easiest way to do so ("The Colbert Report" and Talladega Nights come to mind), but that's hardly appropriate outside of comedy (BECAUSE I SAID SO, DAMNIT), and I'd kill to see someone effectively pull it off straight. Does that mean I'll end up murdering someone when I finally get around to watching "Mad Men" (from what I hear, I'm gonna end up loving that Don Draper)? Possibly.

So, who has the right to decry a band that charges for a song download? To bemoan internet videos for having commercials (especially when more and more advertisers are finding value in using genuinely creative talent, as Old Spice did with Tim & Eric!)? And if your complaint is that those come from broken institutions ("the band doesn't see that money, it goes right to the record company"), then who the Hell are you to place the responsibility on the creators to develop and run the alternative, rhetorical reader? It's not enough that they have to be the ones creating in spite of everything, but now they have to set up and maintain an infrastructure to get voluntary (read: not guaranteed) support from you?

Let's start wrapping this up. Now, I'm not saying that the "download now, pay later" method championed in that one Minecraft article (you know the one- one of YOU is bound to post it in the comments field) is a bad one. I am saying that if that's the mode we want, which makes us the patrons, and which contributes to the creators consistently and fairly, then we need to be the ones to set it up and get it working, not the people who already work so hard for us. Record companies weren't started by bands (the good, non-exploitative labels are now, but that shouldn't have been their responsibility). Publishing houses weren't started by authors. SO QUIT BEING SO DAMN LAZY IF YOU DESERVE TO BE ENTERTAINED SO MUCH. You get it started, or you fix what's here (mandated salary caps for all artistic distribution execs/higher minimum contract rates for talent? Hooray socialism! Yay unions!). If not, then buy the freaking song and watch the damn commercial, jerk.

This is me... GETTING REAL

Here begins the newest, most amazing musing from The Loudest Fan. Bow appropriately:

That's it. I'm selling out.

Yes, I am going to try monetizing this mother. I am starving. Deal with it. With that, I now have an incentive to keep this thing running, SO I WILL KEEP THIS BIOTCH RUNNING. At least, I think I will. Who knows? Anywho, I will certainly be more proactive in promoting, splitting whichever infinitives I feel like splitting along the way. So make room for the new folks, my two or three current followers.

In addition to pledging to make this pile more worthwhile and more frequently-updated, I'll give you a juicy update to compensate for all my whoring:

I am making a podcast. It won't happen until this poor punk has the means to do so, but it will happen. More on that later, when that time comes closer. I will say it has little to do with this space, though (not the same persona, etc), so there's that.

Goodbye for now, and hello newbie(s).