Otaku-ness, and other methods of suicide.

Its happening before my eyes and hands, and I have stopped fighting it.
I am becoming a Japanimation Geek, an "otaku".
The mere fact that I know the term is a sign of an advanced case. I've slipped from a distant admiration of the more beautiful forms of stylized, anime-type art, into a full-bore devourer of manga. To help others avoid my fate, I will chart my descent into the womenless realm of this special breed of Geek.
Avoid watching "Cowboy Bebop" at all costs. I was weak and susceptable to its power, and it soon had me in its icy grip, cursing me to watch the episodes one by one, until I can only date girls five years my junior with chronic halitosis. My good friend Jonathan proved resistant, due to his special training regimen of hard-labor in a Miami groundskeeping crew. At the first sign of contamination, his subconscious immediately mauled his conscious with a pipe, and he slept through the episode. Not so I, dear readers.
After "Cowboy Bebop" opened the door, "Inuyasha" kicked me through it and down the stairs to my parent's basement. All contact with the fairer sex was lost, and I wallowed in the depths with Smeagol, until he left me in disgust.

Brace yourself, more horrors lie ahead.

I then (forgive me) began reading "Battle Angel Alita"! Not only is this a black and white comic book that reads from right to left, it's over ten years old. I'm reading outdated japanese comic books. I will be hell's janitor.

Yes, this was a random post.