Night of the Worms

It was the night the worms came out.
A cold, foggy, shitty night.

Grady locked the door of the bagel shop behind him.  Late night bagels... what a fucking concept.  As long as the paychecks kept coming and the occasional cute customer he was okay.

The worms were stirring.

Grady's girlfriend Stevie got into her car, set her purse down on the bench seat, and had a moment with herself.  She'd finally decided to break up with Grady.  He's going nowhere in life and taking her with him.
She would be eaten by the worms before she could meet Grady.

A lone tree out on a hill topples over.  It explodes in hungry worms.  The worms don't eat trees, they destroyed the tree to get to the fancy gent hanging from it's strongest branch.

I saw everything.

Hey cunts!

Wow, it's been a long time since I've had ANYTHING to say.  I could've bored you over the last NINE MONTHS about being sad and jobless, but I decided to internalize it and explode rage/boredom all over random train passengers.  I'm happy to be working again, albeit at a job MUCH shittier than I'd anticipated.

I was up for a TSA job, but couldn't land that gem for some reason.  THANK FUCKING GOD.  Yeah, pat-downs sound sexy, until you patted down your 50th FUPA of the day.

Harry Potter was okay.

Bye.

There's something sad about a grown man flexing a tiny muscle.  I just saw it happen in my bathroom.

Pics coming soon.

Ok Go, fuck yourselves.

I like a lot of nerdy things.  I like Battlestar Galactica for clam's sake.  I even wrote a theme song for it ...shut up.   The dorkdom on which I'm about to unleash my atomic dickslap is beyond that of writing limericks, yo-yo competitions, and even combing the beach with metal detectors. This is, of course, the current obsession with Rube Goldberg devices.

I went online recently and saw a lot of shit saying things like "new ok go video is amazing," "awesome music video," and several other way-to-impressed sounding posts overusing "amazing" and "awesome" so I, naturally, was a little intrigued/engorged (tumescence unrelated).  After all, they've been known to be inventive with their videos, so who am I to be all smart and not click the link?

Summary:  It's a video (for shitty song that would otherwise get ZERO attention) with a Rube Goldberg device that... rubes for the duration.

 "OMG, it was all done in one shot!"
Yeah, so was the Spice Girls video for "Wannabe."
Ok Go and their assbutt director should "zigazig ha" themselves in the ass with a HIV dipped electric chainsaw.

After the 3rd ball rolled down something and pushed something into something else I started looking at my watch. 

(Confession: I wasn't actually wearing a watch. I just started staring at the freakishly long, blonde, silky hair growing out of my wrist.)

This shit isn't interesting.   I had Mouse Trap when I was a kid too, and guess what.. it held my attention for about a half hour before I chucked into the flames of hell. "Say hello to Kennedy for me, creepy nude monochromatic plastic bathing man!"
   A Rube Goldberg device is the only thing that you don't know exactly what's going to happen next, but still, you're NEVER surprised.  Even if you are surprised you don't give a fuck.  Why?  Because you're a person of substance, which explains your passing interest in this blog. 

Ooh, look that thing rolled down that thing and bumped into that other thing, which in turn... KILL ME! FUCKING KILL ME! I GIVE UP, YOU WIN. LET ME DIE!

So, what's the payoff for this striptease of dorkfuck?
*drum roll*
They get shot in the face with paint.
 Try to calm down, please ma'am you're going to hyperventilate. 
 How do they come up with this stuff?

They get show with water based paint in the face...
I could think of 50-500 million things I'd like to see Ok Go get shot in the face with instead.

My Pozole Recipe

Here's what my family calls "pozole."  I don't care if it's what you're used to, it's what I've got, man.

Category: Soup
Ethnicity: gardener
Spice level: albino

Ingredients:
1 5-6 lb roaster/fryer chicken
2 lbs pork neck-bone
2 28oz cans white hominy
1 28oz can mild enchilada sauce (or homemade)
Celery chopped
Carrot chopped
Onion quatered
Garlic
Dried herbs (mex oragano etc)


Accouterments:
Diced red onion
Cabbage strips
Lemon
Cilantro

Instructions:

1. Clean and butcher the chicken.  Place into stock pot along with coarsely chopped onion, celery, and carrot.  Toss in a few garlic cloves (skin on) and what ever herbs you like in a tea sack.   Add a few heavy pinches of salt and fill with cold, non-malaria infested water (important) till covering the chicken. 

2. Bring to a boil and reduce heat to low and let simmer about 45mins, till the chicken is done.


3. While the chicken is simmering away take out your pork necks.   Put them in a separate pot and cover with water.   Bring to a boil and do that for 10-15 mins.    Take them out and rinse off all of that filth.   You'll be eating filth free soup. You can thank me later.

45mins have time-lapsed.

5. The chicken should be cooked at this point.   Go a head and check it out.   Remove all of the chicken parts and set on an old album cover (I'm thinking Rush or Syknyrd) and let it cool of a while.  Ha!  Your album is ruined.  You should have used a plate like a normal person.
Now toss the scum-free neck bones into the soup.   These are going to simmer for about 90mins.

6. While those necks are simmering check to see if your chicken is cool enough to rest your dick on. (if you're female go flag down a dick in the street, it's the only way I know)  If it is, you're ready to strip off all of that chicken meat and chop it to desired size and shape.  Don't get fancy, it's annoying.   So, do that, and put the meat into a bowl where it can sit undisturbed by your human living.

*optional*
take the stripped chicken bones and bust them open, crack them in half, chop their asses and add them back to the soup with the pork.  While that pork is simmering you can give your soup even more body with all that chicken bone goo.

Have the 90 mins passed?   No?  Then go read something and say nice things about the thing your read.   I suggest this blog.  You're already here and it's really good too.  My twitter is the only other choice.  Read anything else and your soup will turn to horse diarrhea.

7. Now the 90mins of pork simmering have passed.  Grab your favorite tongs and, with a pinching action, use those tongs to remove a piece of neck bone.    Jam a fork into a meaty part and twist.   The meat should offer very little resistance.  I call this "tender."  Pull the pork out and let it cool off a bit.   Did you know that pigs can read and cry?

8. When the pork has settled down a bit and will allow you to touch it, you can start hacking the meat offa those bones.  Ignore the ghostly squeals there's no turning back now.  Add all of that pork to the bowl of now cold and admittedly unappealing chicken meat.

What now?
9. Strain the fucking broth!
After straining, take a minute to appreciate the beautiful broth you've made.  Take a taste.  Because what you're about to do to it is going to feel and be sorta wrong.

Assuming that you've figured a few things out on your own, your stock pot is empty and rinsed.   Your broth is in a large vessel and you've got a bowl of boiled meat and a couple cans of rinsed and ready hominy.

10. Make all of those things be in the same thing now.  I don't care how you do it or in what order.   Just make it happen.  I prefer to add the meat and hominy to the original pot and then add the broth after.  It's less splashy that way.  You don't mind a little splash?  It's your blouse, dude.

11. Open the can of enchilada sauce with a device that supports that action.  I use a military p1 can opening implement.  It makes me feel rugged.  As if I were in the wilderness and wanted a nice thirst eliminating chug of tepid enchilada sauce, no prob.
Add about 3/4 of the can.  Taste.  Add more if ya like, I don't give a shit.  
I usually use the whole thing.  Some brands are spicier than others. Let the soup boil away until the raw flaover of the chili sauce is gone.  It doesn't take long.  You taste.  You figure out.

Now, unlike before, you have soup to eat.  Congratulations.
Just take your prettiest kitchen spoon, and ladle some soup into your favorite hollowed skull of a vanquished foe. 
Grasp lemon and make squirt into soup.  Sprinkle onion, cabbage, and cilantro.

Admire your soup.  You don't even have to taste it, because you know it's good.
Now go to sleep,  you've had quite a day.

Now with T-grip!

Why the T-grip handle?  Because it's only about 11" tall and if you use it for one of those moments when you really need it you'd better have a good grip cause your hands will be dripping with diarrhea.

WHO WOULD MAKE A SHORTER PLUNGER!!??

Maybe this is a product aimed at those of us that don't find sucking shit out of tubes to be intimate enough.  A little something for that massive contingent of folks that want to unclog toilets but just wish they could bend over a little further to do it.  Something for that customer that has enough room between the crapper and the wall but with such low ceiling clearance that a standard height plunger is a hassle to maneuver. Who can figure out all those angles?


I have a confession to make...
It's a sink plunger, but you know someone is going to use this for the toitey.
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Hey idiot

You're going about this is a seemingly ass backwards sort of way

If you're going to be weird and stupid you should first make sure that I'm not lurking nearby.
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Simple Pleasures

When I'm watching a movie and I see the clip that was used as DVD cover art.
That's the best.
What an accomplishment.
What an astute observer I am.

Then, another hour into the movie, there's another clip.
Or maybe that's it... ehh I don't care.

She won't listen, and there's nothing i can do about it.

 

No neck, no ears.

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Really?

I saw a commercial today.  Oh boy.
Rarely do I have the urge to find the nearest Thirtysomething cracker, bash their head into Bone Chip Pudding, and scream at the mess, but this was one of them days.  Fortunately for "whitey" I never leave my house, and if I did I would find only Mexicans.

The commercial goes like this:
A man video taping his wife's cunty kitchen behavior notices that there's an ice cream cake on the counter.  He then proceeds to walk over, stick his hand directly into the cake, take a giant handful, and start to eat it.  As we've learned from t.v. men are fucking retarded and just grab cold ice cream with their bare hands or put entire avocados into the blender hoping it will become souper bole (don't wanna get sued) guacamole.
He turns around to see his wife standing there holding a knife, and she quips, "really!?"

Ugh.

First, you dick, who the fuck would do that?
Second, would that really be your response to this dumbfuck ruining your cake, lady?  Really?
I'd be screaming something more along the lines of, "I'm stabbing you right now! and I'm not sorry!"

If you're using "really" as a punchline, fuck yourself.  Fuck yourself in the ass with a baby grizzly bear and rub your body with Africanized bee honey.  When you're done sliding that sticky baby bear in and out of your gaping malebox, if the mother bear hasn't cracked open your skull to reveal the quivering black mass that you call a brain, just do me this one favor ( because I'll be honest, at this point you've cheated death to a pretty awesome degree and I'm impressed) so I'll just ask is that you stop.  It's mildly annoying.

Dawn of the Dead

What is this?

You: A picture of Costco?  Thanks asshole.
Me:  It's not just a picture of a Costco...
You: I think you're handsome like a wolf. 
Me: Thanks, bitch.  If you interrupt me again I'll stab you in the forehead with a wet/dry vacuum.  It's not only a Costco, but it's the ground floor of a condo building.


Condos suck.
I wouldn't buy a condo.  
I'm not going to pay a mortgage,  property taxes, and HOA fees to live in a fucking apartment.  Are you nuts?
 Don't get all mad condo boy, you live in an apartment and it's bleeding you dry.  You're STILL trying to paint a fucking accent wall and get stainless steel appliances.  A white fridge will chill your Zima just the same. *timely reference of the month*

As if condos weren't shitty enough in the first place, here come the retail.  Are we really beginning to live INSIDE of the fucking mall?  Maybe Dawn of the Dead was a little more poignant than we'd realized.
Do you really want to live above a Chipotle?  At least it won't be too hot.  Ya know, cuz the meat never is.

WHY WOULD YOU BUYYYYY PROPERTY OVER A QUIZNOS?

My trip to Barnes and Noble

I saw some magazines.

You're on the cover of a magazine, you're posing with alcohol and yet you manage to look like the least fun person alive.  The title of the mag doesn't even suggest that he'll drink it.  He'll just patiently observe it.  

I don't know, I just find this picture hilarious. Is it me or does it look like she gave birth to this thing and is now offering to sacrifice?  And what's that guy gonna do with all those ducks?

Creepy ginger weekly. 

Look at which section seems to have been mindlessly ransacked.  I'm just sayin'.

So that was my trip to Barnes and Noble (or "barns and nobles" as your mom says).  I still can't stop laughing at that wine guy.  Maybe I'll stake the place out to see who buys it, cause that's the only guy I can laugh at harder.

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WTB (what the butt)

WTB!

SAME SIDE OF THE GODS DAMNED TABLE!
Who the fuck does this? Why? Who are these masked assholes?
Did they have a conversation at some point and agree to eat like creepy mongrel twins every time? Are there couples out there that have one person that wants to eat like this and the other person is normal? Who must acquiesce?
Obviously, crazy wins every time.
What are the odds that both people like to sit "topsy table?"(copyright)
Is this one of the many "levels of compatibility" on eharmony.com?

What's the advantage? Less elbie bow room? An asymmetrical table load? Yours truly stealthily taking your picture and ranting quietly instead of enjoying his far too cold Chipotle meal? Seriously, why is the meat luke warm and the salsa made of liquid nitrogen? Assholes.

You people fucking kill me.

Meet the Spartans?

I just saw that Meet the Spartans is on cable. There really should be a way to plant some sort of virus into a cable movie so that it makes your tv explode if you watch it. Or at least so the person watching gets AIDS.

That would be justice.

Movie cliche #887

Why is it every time a movie wants to show that something is happening globally they must include the stupid Jesus statue in Rio De Janeiro. How many people even know that it's in Rio De Janeiro? I thought it was fucking Sao Paulo. Who even know the difference between the two. I just know that I'm afraid of both and don't need a hooker badly enough to risk it.

If you're doing a movie, and you've got a scene where something happens to the whole planet, just swallow a lizard. If it's the right sort it'll eat you from the inside out. That should take care of it.


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Shove your facial tattoo up your ass

You're not a badass, you're an idiot. It's a thin line, I know.

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A shot at an audio blog

K-mart

So, I just went into kmart for the first time in nearly a decade. I'm conducting what has turned out to be a nationwide survey for cheap goggles. Yes, you guessed it, as dorky as it may be, I'm going to start wearing goggles while cutting onions. It's really the only way to keep the acid from meeting your sweet eye juice.

Target doesn't carry such things after the summer because people never swim indoors at their local gym. That is why I've ended up at kmart. You can almost hear the death rattle as you walk into this depressing little shit hole.

Before I could finish thinking "who the fuck would go here" the answer was already obvious. Mexicans. Why? I do not know.

You guys know that you're allowed at target right?

Now that I think of it I rarely see my secretly short brothers when I'm at target every weekend (sometimes twice.).  I never see a bunch of adults riding child-sized walmart bicycles on the sidewalk around there.  It's usually almost entirely Asians and whites.  Not that I have anything against Asians and whites...  well nothing against whites anyway.

This ain't fuckin' Whloefoods man, it's target!
Anywhere they sell TGI Friday's frozen food, Mexicans should feel welcome.
I WELCOME YOU! 
Get the fuck out of K-mart so it can die already.

There must be another reason, though I couldn't be bothered to see if they had crazy good deals on Flamin' Cheetos and urine flavored beer. I was too busy trying not to yarf seeing obese women eating what could only be referred to as pizza if you wanted to piss off anyone with a taste bud.

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Terminator Salvation and Stinkfuck

Another unchronologically posted movie going nightmare (from now on they'll be all chrono)


This guy wasn't as self absorbed as most, he just smelled like he didn't give a fuck, and you know what?
That's fine!
If you don't leave the fucking house. If and when you do leave the house IN SWEAT PANTS that have probably never been washed you're a fucking cunt. In fairness to Stinkfuck, he probably doesn't leave the house very often. A 46 year old, unloveable, jobless, alocholic has little reason to commune with the clean. Unless, of course, there's a shitty director buttfucking a somewhat respectable movie franchise, then by all means, slap on the sweatpants from hell, dig up the bus money, and venture in the world of the employed and curious.

We were sitting in front row of the main area where you can put your feet on the railing, it's wonderful. This guy had either figured out the same thing or just has bad eyes from years of mainlining tequila directly into his eyes, because he sat right there, one seat away from the very showered, very excited, and very annoyable writer of this shit blog.

The worst part of this experience was that I had a way out. A friend of his stopped by to talk for a minute and he smelled like a
dewy
fucking
meadow

A very large back man (i think it's relevant) that must've ran directly from the shower to cinema. He smelled heavenly. His short conversation ended with a "No, I don't want to sit with you. I want to go smell good over there in the front row" and joined some other brothas in the front section where I bet he used his massive neck rolls to rest his head while he craned his neck up.

My olfactory punishment was so sever that I did something that I normally wouldn't because I would hate to hurt the person's feelings. I got up and moved. One more seat away. I made my party of six all move down one seat. It didn't help.

The breeze blowing in from the entrance hallway would only exacerbate the situation. I believe they call it "wafting." Yes, his unwashed, stale cigarette smokey, body odor was wafted to me. Fortunately for the wife, I acted as a very effective smell barrier.

I always tell her how lucky she is to have me, and that day it was inarguable.



Ps.
Why would the machines make a motorcycle that a human could ride. With all the controls there for a human to just hack and jump on and ride like a regular bike?? WHY!

Pps.
Mcg (Poindexter McGurkenstein I assume) is a douche. I'm so sick of movies for adults aiming for a PG13 rating so they can make optimal profits. Why not make something with the intention of it being good? A movie about robots killing people and using them in experiments should be violent as all fuckout.




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Stupid toilet planner

Anything wrong with this picture? Yes, you fucking idiot.


First, notice the handrails.
This place (the McDonald's in San Mateo near the Ihop) is obviously concerned with the safety and comfort of it's senior citizens. If you've ever been to a MiccyDee's at 6am you'll know that it's always some weird group of men over 65 talking about the weirdest shit. What the hell is NATO?

Now check out the TP dispenser. Notice the distance from the bowl, and the height at which it is placed.
Forget the fucking old timers I, a spry (and handsome) 30 year old man, had a hard time bending over from my seated poopy poo position to steal 5 inches of that sweet 40 grit public potty toilet paper.

"Whooooooooaaa there skintags, what the hell are you going to do with 5 inches of ass wipe?"

Good question, only reader of this blog.
I DON'T FUCKING KNOW!!! but that's all you're getting because the motherfucker is so close to the filthy public floor tiles. That grout absorbs AIDS and keeps it there. That's a fact.

That's right. I had to adopt this, up up down down left right left right method of extracting the paper to get the 14 foot length ANYONE with doodie on their firm fanny would require. This paper is simultaneously the thinnest and roughest material that man can devise. It's the only thing that you can read through but still take paint off of your '67 Nova with. If you don't bunch it up enough you MIGHT get a middle finger peek-a-boo. Or stink-a-boo if you wanted to be cute about it. Or peek-a-poo if you wanted to make me uncomfortable.  I don't believe in hell, but if it's real, I'm going to the bad pun level.

McDonalds, you're  ass fucking America with your terrible food at affordable prices. The least you can do is give a hard working attractive citizen a good place to make brownies.

*SCREAMING*If you moved the god damn dispenser just above the rail (which I can contend with better than the floor) I wouldn't be writing this fucking waste of bandwidth I call a blog post. Or maybe get a smaller fucking dispenser. Does it have to be the lalapalooza of the ass paper universe?

Again I walk away from an anal-based experience with my mind boggled.







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The Nightman Cometh LIVE and Flipper Von clappmonster

The Nightman Cometh LIVE and Flipper Von clappmonster

This guy was one of the worst.
Worse than th woman that had to have Lord of the Rings translated to her in real time, worse than stinkfuck, even worse than the old Filipino lady that gasped audibly when Benjamin button went from c.g.i. Brad Pitt to a young boy actor.

This fuck. This fuck among an entire Masonic Center full of fratty, drunk, attention seeking professional beer pongers.

This dweeb needed attention. Starting with the full-on gutter punk regalia, to the insanely enthusiastic greeting this asshole was ready to go. He was a humming bird that had found the elusive bacon fat blossom. Short and fat, with enough energy to be a one man fuckfest.

The fine people of Its Always Sunny in Philadelphia gave us a sneak peak at their new Christmas special. Before the first joke or gag had a chance, the human psychotic fuck dolphin started in. The loudest loneliest most inappropriate laugh ever heard. I say lonely and inappropriate because NOBODY ELSE WAS LAUGHING. There hadn't been a laugh out loud moment yet.

From time to time my curse is lifted or I'm just given a little respite or leniency by whatever crazy old gypsy laid down the funk. Tonight the curse was merely transferred to my poor wife. She was right next to him. She had her fingers jammed in her ears for most of the night.

After the quite moments had passed and no more attention could be acquired though freaky porpoise laughs, he moved to the fucking thunder clap. I didn't know that physics would allow for such fat little hands to make so much motherfucking noise. This tiny, chubby handed little punk munchkin clapped like he was trying to get a little stigmata going. Like he could force it if he clapped hard enough.

I feel like some guys force the loud clap as a weird over compensation for obvious shortcomings. Like the way too hard hand shake.
I get it.
You're insecure.
Shake like a mortal and clap like a gentlemen.

Thank you.


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District 9 and weird worst couple

Godbless that Internet eh?
Helping the formerly unfuckable find love since the mid 90s. This is the unfortunate tale of the Weird Worst Couple.

They were in their 40s, totally unfuckable (even by German standards), and from the moment they walked in, obviously weird. Socially weird.  Weird weird.

Many of my pains have come from theater hoppers. They never seem to know what the fuck they're sitting in on.  Like the two teenage Mexican girls who were in the theater (accounting for 2 of the 10 present for that showing) for the first 15 minutes of Appaloosa.  
This strange couple of mutants fit the description perfectly. They didn't know what this was and no idear what they wanted to do. This became evident when they sat down (right next to me) and began discussing it. This started just before the previews and right on through them. Full on talking volume, mind you.  No discretion, consideration or boundaries. 
I bit my tongue.

Ten minutes into the movie I snap.
"if you have something to discuss take it outside!" I quietly yell.

What was their response?
A. "My bad"
B. "Sorry we just..."
C. A look as if I was the rude one.
D. to burst into flaming demons

I was expecting D but got a whole lotta C.
Ever want to stab a stranger in the eyes with your keys? Give it time.

The conversation continued at a slightly less irritating volume and and resulted in the dapper male half of this two headed Siamese shit sculpture leaving somewhere in the first 40 mins. The female aspiring country singer half of this late term abortion of a couple would finally decide to seek out her prince somewhere in the last half of the movie. You know where it started to get really good? Yeah, that part.

Inconfuckingceivable.

Hey shoe shoppers!

If you're a guy and you don't have any interest in at least ONE thing on the history or science channel start sucking cock POST HASTE.

AND
Ladies, if you're looking to bag an even half interesting man let him catch you watching the history channel occasionally. It's a small gesture (painful though it may be) but the respect he'll gain for you, probably without even realizing it, will make him more attracted to you.


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Did you know

That the moment you fall asleep every kind of insect around your house meet on your body and crawl around to form a protective shell on your sleep paralized corpse untill just before you wake up.

Spiders
Beetles
Ants
Roaches
And
Worms

Love the skin you're in.

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Are you a MAN?

How can a grown man believe in god?
This is what confuses me the most. Sorry ladies, don't worry, you're next.

You're a man and you believe in a guy that you'll never see and not only that but...
YOU WORSHIP HIM?

You worship a man? Are you fucking with me?

Let's not kid ourselves, most gods, are dudes. We call them father.  Gods swing a mighty dick.
Once you're old enough to live on your own you should be a little embarrassed to even look up to another man. You're supposed to become the man that gets looked up to. Can you imagine how weirded out you'd be if, when you were a kid, you found out you found out that your dad really looked up to, or worse yet, worshiped another man? On top of that your dad, the man you look up to as what it means to be a grown up has a fucking imaginary friend.  At least I can still respect my dad on that level if no other.

At what point to you become your own man? You fully-grown adolescent boys. Take down the posters of the musicians you idolized when you were 16, and stop pretending to believe on the heavenly father (and heaven it's self for that matter.)

For dick's sake! You're supposed to be a fucking man. Have some fucking pride or at least have the sense to pretend to.  Drop the imaginary man you're looking up to and worshiping and become that.


Thank you.




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Pedophile line of the day 9/28/09

"You know, somtimes you suck on your thumb and it makes you feel better? Well it's kind of like that, except this will make ME feel better."

-some creep somewhere

Curb your enthusiamsm

Fucking hilarious this season.


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CPR

We take a lot for granted.

CPR is fucking amazing.
You're starting up a dead person.
We figured that shit out.
You're literally "compression starting" a dead person like you'd start an old stick shift with a bad solenoid.
Just like when you were a teenager picking up your girlfriend from her wealthy neighborhood in your mom's old piece of shit. When you're about to leave with everyone buckled in safely, it doesn't start, so you and your mom have to push it with the girlfriend in the driver's seat and you mom yell's "POP IT!" meaning to "pop the clutch." So embarrassing, as her parents stand at the door of their mansion watching this.

WE DO THIS WITH HUAMAN LIVES!

and if that doesn't work we have jumper cables.

Holy fucking shit indeed.

cum ad inifinitum

How long is too long for an orgasm? Most males get a good 5 seconds, 10 if we're lucky. Then there's the pig. They say the pig cums for 30 minutes. There are some out there, I'm sure, that envy the pig's supposed 30 minute nut. Not me.

I started thinking about this in the shower when, AGAIN, trying to wrap my bacon around the fillet of infinity. Eternity. FOR-E-VER. (i sure hope you've seen The Sandlot)

Try and try and try as I might, or even do, I just can't grasp the concept of eternal life. It just doesn't make sense to me.

Heaven everlasting. The ultimate gift.

This is the reward for ignoring my critical thinking skills? This is the reward for ignoring mountains of evidence to the contrary of all the creator myths?(the ones I'm aware of anyway) This is the reward for accepting, or at least SAYING that I accept, some old Jewish guy from the bronze age as my savior? For being grateful that he died, even though he didn't really die and actually got to be God afterward, for my sins? Well... not MY sins, I had yet to be born.



Imagine for a moment, that your next orgasm didn't stop. Imagine you're on top of your ladie, or fella, or *gulp* pet, and you begin to climax. Whoa! It just keeps going and going. This what it must feel like to do heroin! Judging from what I've seen in movies.

5 minutes later...

MY GOD! Ssss sssss ssstill going OH JESUS!

I don't know exactly when this would stop feeling great, and I'm sure it would vary from person to person to... pet. I'm just going to go ahead and assume that after a month or maybe even six months this would stop feeling great and be more like torture. I'd welcome a good stiff kick to the temple if only to distract me from the, save me from the, relieve me of this never ending bliss.

It's contagious. Everyone's next orgasm get's a swift kick into outer space. Suicide rates go through the roof, or plummet from the roof, however you want to look at it. Doctor Ruth loses her fucking midget mind. The end is cumming.

People try to do their jobs. Construction comes to a screaming halt. Hypochondriacs loose their audience. Phone sex operators become redundant. Maligned even. Porn directors fight for the publishing rights of traffic cameras.

Even if it lasted my entire life, there would at least be and end. It would end eventually.

wait... what was my point?

Oh yeah!
Who the fuck wants to live forever? For ever and ever and ever and ever. It would literally never end. What the fuck would you do with yourself? Even if the afterlife was finite, maybe a million years, I'd have to give it some serious thought. A million years is an incredibly long period of time, but eternity NEVER STOPS! (i supposed the constant gardener would like it)

So, you get to heaven, as long as you've pretended to believe in God(thank you, Pascal) now what?
Hey, it's my grandma and grandpa! All my previous pets!
Me: Hey PeeWee(my cat), how the hell did you get here?
Cat answers: Only persons and or personified/anthropomorphized things get here. You thought of me as your friend so I get to be here... forever. Same with your first car, betsy. Thanks.
Betsy: BEEP!

Me: So, the 300,000 species of beetles...
Cat: dead.
Me: But, dogs and cats...
Cat: go to heaven because you humans like them. I'm sure Jane Goodall is dodging small hands full of ape shit as we speak.
Me: she's dead?
Cat: You've been here for 10,000 years.

Well, it's been great seeing all of these people. I really love my grandma. And she really loves her dog. Man do I hate that fucking yappy, angry, shivering, little freak animal. If you own a chihuaua, kill yourself. Or wait, don't!
So, if I want to spend time with grandma I have to put up with BunnyBell. Great.
Wait... who's fucking heaven is this?

Anyway, what do I do now? I've seen everyone that I want to see, and been subjected to the people that THEY like but who I wish we're still alive.
Now what? I'd be happy or at least content if I knew that I could just ride this out. Get a new afterlife-quality hobby or something, but this isn't going to end. Period. Question mark?

shit.

God has just informed me, in an attempt to stave off cabin fever or space madness or whatever I'm getting, that my perception of time is quite different. Every second that passes is actually 1,000 years on earth. So... there's that.

Wait wait wait! It doesn't matter how quickly time passes because it still never ends! It could be a millions years per second and it wouldn't make a difference, it would just get more crowded faster. It's like the fucking twilight zone. Like I'm stuck is some loop, except Rod Serling never steps in. This is madness!

Everything must have an end. Not because it's some stupid new agey law, but because nothing is good in perpetuity. Even those blissfull little moments when I'm shotting my DNA all over some unfortunate wife of mine. It has to end.


"Mommy, does the Ebola virus go to heaven?"