Well, it seems that Mr. Roth has decided to reinvigorate the pages of Save the Humans once more, injecting life into it with his own content and with additional venues (by means of using his editeur ways to procure certain genius from his closest friends). I, however, did not arrive at the scene as his subject. I have certain censure that must find expression and certain wrongs that must be effaced from existence. What could be so dire? I’ll tell you…for it is truly “some repugnant shit.”

After my little “sabbatical” (as to what we will now call it), various things have happened which are likely to occur with the passage of time. My articles fall to the wayside of the results of search engines, the Internet sucks a little more of the figurative cock by permeating its environment with comedy that either is impotent or cliché (shame on you, The Onion…we know that you can do better), and social sites like Facebook and MySpace are created so that the nonage population have yet another forum to explore their poor grammar and their need for collective opinions on the choice of dildo to shove in their respective asses. I can even accept the notion of my name fading into obscurity, as I abscond from the various phenomena which substitute what I used to do. However, some things cannot be accepted, in any form.

Indulging in the occasional narcissistic craving, I searched for my name on Google the other day. Now, my expectations were minimal: obituaries, a few mundane posts on a social site, the names “Aaron” and “Kendall” found on a page with a million words between them, and perhaps a few tirades against some jackass who wrote articles on a humor site years ago. However, the results were not so redolent. If anything, they carried that nice smell of dogshit which has been sitting in your living room for the whole day, waiting to embrace your nostrils as you return home from work. Aside from the very first link (which was associated with some sort of academic studying Vikings - I will hold the metaphorical thumb up for plunder and rape), the remainder of the page was bifurcated between two other jackasses: a male cheerleader and an indie Christian singer/guitarist. The cheerleader…well…there is no need to say anything more on that particular issue. The Christian, though, does need some quotations in order to completely convey the polarity of the eponymous “Kendall Paradox”, which I have just invented for the posterity of mankind. “…Aaron Kendall was an average boy, nothing special. Oh, he always wanted to believe that he was special, but deep down he knew that, in and of himself, he was not. “, says the page. “Oh, he always wanted to believe that he was special, but deep down he knew that, in and of himself, he was not. This discovery made Aaron happy… Aaron soon learned another great lesson: that his music was not for his own enjoyment, but for God’s glory… Aaron has decided to follow Jesus… Will you decide now to follow Jesus?”

Holy corn-speckled shitballs. THIS is what my name conjures before somebody’s eyes? Now, I don’t remember my appellation having a significant amount of respect associated with it, but I do know that it wasn’t associated with all-male orgies and/or the sycophantic adulation of ridiculous values. (NOTE: Mix and match those traits to their potential recipients, in accordance with your own prerogative.) So, something must be done in order to disassociate these links with my nom de plume, and that something starts here with this introduction. If we’re meeting for the first time, just know that this site has a tendency to be a bit acerbic and philosophical in its remonstration against the irrational. In other words, be prepared to think in terms which are an alternative to emoticons and the crude pidgin of modern day texting. Welcome to the return of Save the Humans.