Now's the time. “What's time?” you say. “What the hell do you mean by time?”
Well, imagine a non-spatial continuum that is measured in terms of events which succeed one another from the past through present to future.
Now imagine a specific point on that non-spatial continuum.
Got it? Great, we’re almost done.
Now, think of this special point as – paradoxically – filled with space. Finally, envision that from this “space” flies an “event” composed of many moist brown edible tubes that have been mechanically recovered from a divine meat slurry. Sealed in air-tight packaging for freshness, these objects go by many names – but only one word describes their extreme precooked rubbery essence: Hot Dog.
That’s right, you silly sausages, it’s time to mustard up the courage and participate in God's Hot Dog Eating Contest – it's the most important event planned for this entire year.
Even if you don’t win, you will most certainly relish the experience, because when it comes to eating hot dogs, there’s no losing – only winning. Winning and throwing up.
Please don’t even think about making excuses. If you’re behind on your work – ketchup. Or simply abandon whatever it is you are doing, for there is nothing as important as this "event" in your entire "life." It's time to get your mind out of the gutter and into God's ball park, Frank.
Look, when George Washington Carver secured patent #1,243,855 for a milk substitute made from peanuts and soybeans, he wasn’t thinking about completing some menial task to satisfy an unrealistic deadline. He was sharp-shooting for immortality – pure and simple.
So, go out and get your share of microwavable immortality at the great Hot Dog Eating Contest in the sky – or else.
We’ll see you there.
Notice: if you’re pregnant, always heat your hot dogs up to 160-70 degrees to avoid Listeriosis. Always protect your unborn children, no matter how ugly they might grow up to be.
Fun Fact: The earliest usage of "hot dog" in clear reference to sausage can be found in the September 28, 1893 edition of The Knoxville Journal:
It was so cool last night that the appearance of overcoats was common, and stoves and grates were again brought into comfortable use. Even the weinerwurst men began preparing to get the "hot dogs" ready for sale Saturday night.
Why The Things You Use Everyday Might Really Kill You, Seriously, No joke #1: The Spoked Wheel That Turns Paper Through The Dot Matrix Printer
REMEBER!
You used to use it all the time -- or someone in your family did, at least. That old printer was your friend. Grumpy at times, but always there. Now, it's been a while since you used the thing, hasn't it? And where is it anyway? Maybe it's in the attic? Maybe the basement? Or even the local landfill? Or were you nice enough to donate it to the poor or elderly -- who have long since given up trying to eat it for sustenance or medication and sent it to the attic, basement or landfill?
WHAT HAPPENS IN THE BASEMENT
If your dot matrix printer is sitting in the basement now, alongside all of the remnants of your forgotten ambitions -- the poop or mucous left behind by your dreams -- then the spoked wheel already knows all it needs to know about you. It knows what you dedicated your life to, what you gave up friendships and lovers for, and what you finally abandoned under the pressure of your own stupid unbreakable habits and flaws. It knows who you wish you were and why you aren't that person.
How long will it be before that spoked wheel hops from its axle, rolls up the cracks in the concrete walls, breaks out the tiny storm window, heads toward the center of town, buys a top hat and cane and returns donning his new duds with a business card to match? How long is it before that? You have no idea, but you have to wonder. To do anything else is to bring it on even faster. So sit in the basement staring at the spoked wheel wondering when it will finally take what it knows about who you are not and uses it in order to trick you, in order to enact an elaborate and intricate charade meant to humiliate, rob and eventually kill you with the only bait you cannot resist -- your pride. You and the spoked wheel know that your pride is a wiggly little worm that's second only to you in cowardice, and it will stick it on a long hook of all the attempts you've made to become a better person until it has drawn you into the big fish's mouth. Did you know that fish don't know when to stop eating? In the big fish's case, this trait is only magnified by its size -- which is unimaginable -- and it will no doubt eat you until the spoked wheel says stop.
Now, ask yourself whether spoked wheels speak.
WHAT HAPPENS IN THE ATTIC
If your dot matrix printer is resting in the attic, somehow mixed in with the things that make up the routine of your life -- Easter decorations, Christmas, Thanksgiving, Passover, Ramadan, July 4th, Maco Shark -- then the spoked wheel has already inured itself into the cycle. Maybe you didn't notice it hanging on the tree last year? Maybe you didn't see it basting the turkey? Did you see it in the creamy part of the chocolate egg? Did you see it burst into colorful lights in the sky? Did you see it swimming in the shallow waters feeding on smaller fish? No, of course you didn't. Up the stairs and down the stairs, that's all you know. Carry the next day down, the last day up. Use and store, store and use. This is the motion of your life -- when you move at all. Most of the time you sit still at the table planning for the next time you will enter the attic. The spoked wheel moves freely around your house while you are transfixed by these repetitive thoughts. It would like to pay its own bills, cook its own food, but it is trapped in the stupid routine you've gotten yourself into. The attic is a nexus for the monotony and its gravity is profound. Yet the spoked wheel knows that the cycle is on its side and in its favor. By remaining stationary, an incidental and unused item in a sea of fluctuating junk, it can absorb the force of time, float along the tide of all the dumb things you do until it finally gathers enough momentum to just start spinning up there, really spinning, until all of the things you do happen faster and faster and the walls of your house expand outward and everything you do and own gains so much mass as to defy the everyday laws you are used to and you are finally forced to admit after all that you are exploding not receding.
WHAT HAPPENS IN THE LANDFILL
It's simple: the spoked wheel detaches from the dot matrix printer, smashes the machine to pieces, wears the plastic shards like hair or a headdress and scuttles into the world. It enters the job market. It pairs with another wheel. Together they shove their spokes into the holes of some massive and unfurling future and drag it forward, letting some larger apparatus make marks all over it. When the thing is done, if it can ever really finish, the spoked wheels sigh and think the stupid little dots, whether blessings or faults, have something, anything, to do with them.
You used to use it all the time -- or someone in your family did, at least. That old printer was your friend. Grumpy at times, but always there. Now, it's been a while since you used the thing, hasn't it? And where is it anyway? Maybe it's in the attic? Maybe the basement? Or even the local landfill? Or were you nice enough to donate it to the poor or elderly -- who have long since given up trying to eat it for sustenance or medication and sent it to the attic, basement or landfill?
WHAT HAPPENS IN THE BASEMENT
If your dot matrix printer is sitting in the basement now, alongside all of the remnants of your forgotten ambitions -- the poop or mucous left behind by your dreams -- then the spoked wheel already knows all it needs to know about you. It knows what you dedicated your life to, what you gave up friendships and lovers for, and what you finally abandoned under the pressure of your own stupid unbreakable habits and flaws. It knows who you wish you were and why you aren't that person.
How long will it be before that spoked wheel hops from its axle, rolls up the cracks in the concrete walls, breaks out the tiny storm window, heads toward the center of town, buys a top hat and cane and returns donning his new duds with a business card to match? How long is it before that? You have no idea, but you have to wonder. To do anything else is to bring it on even faster. So sit in the basement staring at the spoked wheel wondering when it will finally take what it knows about who you are not and uses it in order to trick you, in order to enact an elaborate and intricate charade meant to humiliate, rob and eventually kill you with the only bait you cannot resist -- your pride. You and the spoked wheel know that your pride is a wiggly little worm that's second only to you in cowardice, and it will stick it on a long hook of all the attempts you've made to become a better person until it has drawn you into the big fish's mouth. Did you know that fish don't know when to stop eating? In the big fish's case, this trait is only magnified by its size -- which is unimaginable -- and it will no doubt eat you until the spoked wheel says stop.
Now, ask yourself whether spoked wheels speak.
WHAT HAPPENS IN THE ATTIC
If your dot matrix printer is resting in the attic, somehow mixed in with the things that make up the routine of your life -- Easter decorations, Christmas, Thanksgiving, Passover, Ramadan, July 4th, Maco Shark -- then the spoked wheel has already inured itself into the cycle. Maybe you didn't notice it hanging on the tree last year? Maybe you didn't see it basting the turkey? Did you see it in the creamy part of the chocolate egg? Did you see it burst into colorful lights in the sky? Did you see it swimming in the shallow waters feeding on smaller fish? No, of course you didn't. Up the stairs and down the stairs, that's all you know. Carry the next day down, the last day up. Use and store, store and use. This is the motion of your life -- when you move at all. Most of the time you sit still at the table planning for the next time you will enter the attic. The spoked wheel moves freely around your house while you are transfixed by these repetitive thoughts. It would like to pay its own bills, cook its own food, but it is trapped in the stupid routine you've gotten yourself into. The attic is a nexus for the monotony and its gravity is profound. Yet the spoked wheel knows that the cycle is on its side and in its favor. By remaining stationary, an incidental and unused item in a sea of fluctuating junk, it can absorb the force of time, float along the tide of all the dumb things you do until it finally gathers enough momentum to just start spinning up there, really spinning, until all of the things you do happen faster and faster and the walls of your house expand outward and everything you do and own gains so much mass as to defy the everyday laws you are used to and you are finally forced to admit after all that you are exploding not receding.
WHAT HAPPENS IN THE LANDFILL
It's simple: the spoked wheel detaches from the dot matrix printer, smashes the machine to pieces, wears the plastic shards like hair or a headdress and scuttles into the world. It enters the job market. It pairs with another wheel. Together they shove their spokes into the holes of some massive and unfurling future and drag it forward, letting some larger apparatus make marks all over it. When the thing is done, if it can ever really finish, the spoked wheels sigh and think the stupid little dots, whether blessings or faults, have something, anything, to do with them.
Daily Inspiration # O - How Your Body is A Scantron and Why it Doesn't Matter.
Let’s get this straight, okay? Those tiny blue-rimmed openings
that you fill with grey spurts of #2 pencil lead--
THEY ARE not BUBBLES…
Business Scents: Entry Level Positions Are Never Enough
There is no need to elucidate that pun or lewd innuendo inherent to the phrase "entry level position." That in order to gain such elementary status, the first foothold on the corporate ladder, requires you to get into a position which would enable easy entry should be, by now at least, common sense and household knowledge, much the same as we understand innately how to butter bread or poach an egg, as if from birth we emerged with knives and smears and boiling wisps of white on our fingertips. And that competitive anal sex as a job asset is therefore tantamount to such breakfast trivialities only furthers the argument that entry level positions and their requisite maneuvers are humdrum and rather boring.
Rather, the truly wayward professional should not bother his/herself with the lallygagging associated with these old fashioned and outmoded fetish-to-the-top approaches -- if one is truly ambitious, one should be more concerned with gaining a removal or extraction level position, such that not only will you be entered but that also something shall be taken from within you. This type of gift giving may seem new now, but it is actually in the ancient tradition of making homages and offerings that our ancestors often reveled in. We should be so lucky as to carry on this bygone tradition by opening our orifices to the lowest level project managers and letting them pull from our colons meager trinkets and stuffed curiosities as if plucking winnings from a coin-operated claw game. And that's the rub, isn't it? There's little in this world that separates our bodies or our lives from coin-operated claw games. Shove something in there and see what comes out -- the sooner you realize that this is the natural and honest state of things, the sooner you will have a slim shot of maybe ascending one pay step.
Be creative: as you offer yourself to superiors, think of new and innovative ways to become open. What other holes do you have? What other holes can you make? If you sense that the higher-ups are having trouble removing a prize from you, don't be afraid to shimmy or shake a bit to jostle something out -- it will only flatter and enamor them to you -- and as you lay there prostrate in the extraction level position waiting for the big one, ignore all the others around you in the arcade. Their successes or failures in their own positions are of no consequence to you. If you see them bleeding or being broken down for parts, know that this is rare and probably incidental.
Rather, the truly wayward professional should not bother his/herself with the lallygagging associated with these old fashioned and outmoded fetish-to-the-top approaches -- if one is truly ambitious, one should be more concerned with gaining a removal or extraction level position, such that not only will you be entered but that also something shall be taken from within you. This type of gift giving may seem new now, but it is actually in the ancient tradition of making homages and offerings that our ancestors often reveled in. We should be so lucky as to carry on this bygone tradition by opening our orifices to the lowest level project managers and letting them pull from our colons meager trinkets and stuffed curiosities as if plucking winnings from a coin-operated claw game. And that's the rub, isn't it? There's little in this world that separates our bodies or our lives from coin-operated claw games. Shove something in there and see what comes out -- the sooner you realize that this is the natural and honest state of things, the sooner you will have a slim shot of maybe ascending one pay step.
Be creative: as you offer yourself to superiors, think of new and innovative ways to become open. What other holes do you have? What other holes can you make? If you sense that the higher-ups are having trouble removing a prize from you, don't be afraid to shimmy or shake a bit to jostle something out -- it will only flatter and enamor them to you -- and as you lay there prostrate in the extraction level position waiting for the big one, ignore all the others around you in the arcade. Their successes or failures in their own positions are of no consequence to you. If you see them bleeding or being broken down for parts, know that this is rare and probably incidental.
Daily Inspiration 954: Diamonds in the Rough
The silk of a spider's web is ten thousand times stronger than the toughest steel, and when piled together, taller than ten Empire State Buildings.
So, today, which one will you be? Steel and skyscrapers? Or wispy mucous?
Look in the mirror and say: I am the spit of an insect and I have become a long line of superlatives. Say: the analogies that describe my power are unrivaled and can topple governments. Trying to list what makes me great causes birth defects and palsies.
Say: What I believe about myself is stronger than the toughest steel, and when piled together, taller than ten Empire State Buildings, and geometrically aligned to the stock markets and seashells.
So, today, which one will you be? Steel and skyscrapers? Or wispy mucous?
Look in the mirror and say: I am the spit of an insect and I have become a long line of superlatives. Say: the analogies that describe my power are unrivaled and can topple governments. Trying to list what makes me great causes birth defects and palsies.
Say: What I believe about myself is stronger than the toughest steel, and when piled together, taller than ten Empire State Buildings, and geometrically aligned to the stock markets and seashells.
Daily Inspiration #88 - A color, a flower, a chopping block.
Listen! Look! Feel! yourself as nothing else but a pair of GREY pinking shears.
Scalloping the very air around you, you have become a fascinating tool in your mother’s overpriced arts and crafts wicker-basket. But, as you click and snip, remember that you are more than just a tool, and your mother is more than just a mother, and wicker is more than just the slender flexible branches or twigs (especially of willow or some canes) used for wickerwork , or the hard fibrous lignified substance under the bark of trees, or the characteristic sound made by a horse— you are the you-tool-device that “cuts ornamental openings in the body portion of fabrics [of existence],” mitigating the loose threads, your special properties have kept the entire quilt from coming undone.
Now quick! Wash the milk, mustard, and semen stains off it before your mother notices!
Business Scents #32: Knee Guards and Dental Dams
Our agents in the field have been sniffing the wind for what ails our economy. Like starving dogs, the agents -- underpaid and underfed, malnourished and misbegotten -- can put their noses into the air and sense the slightest of DOW index shivers or adjustments (yes, dogs can also do this, but they can't speak when beaten). On a credible tip, a crack team of agents was forced to investigate a number of particularly violent shakes and shudders whose epicenter appeared to be the jugular itself, Wall Street. The following is a report of their findings and recommendations.
------------
On the Necessity of Proper Protection for Knees and Mouths in Business
Abstract
Kissing ass requires only three basic things: 1) an ass, 2) a mouth to kiss it with, and 3) knees to support the mouth. In practicality, there is often much more involved, but we feel it is important for the intentions of this report to make clear that, hypothetically, a mouth that sat atop knees without a body, would suffice in laying lips on an anus, whereas a mouth without knees would simply lay puckering on the office floor as if trying to suck water from the lights. These three things are the essential elements, constituting the entirety of the periodic table, of ass kissing.
We will not enumerate the benefits of ass kissing here, as they are both well-known and in fact innumerable, but will render instead a description of how the indispensable function has been crippled and how it can be maintained even at the fantastically high volumes modern global business requires.
Findings
The first thing we smelled upon entering the financial district? Bone. Using a cross section of our team's nose readings, we were able to create a computer model of nearby business people. As expected, they were the source of most of the bone smell (a small percentage accounted for by some lunches and head injuries), and after a number of forced medical examinations, we were able to deduce that in all cases, the bones were exposed at the knee. Post examination interviews (beatings) revealed that these poor business people are unable now to lower into the position because of the pain, unendurable. This, among other things, reduced a large portion of the glue that holds businesses together, namely a mixture of saliva, fecal matter and blood, halting momentum throughout their companies. Searching for the familiar scent of bone throughout Wall Street, we found it everywhere, in every corner and crevice, from the the janitors to the CEOs, each in their own respective holes. A complete standstill is inevitable, we realized, if something is not done, and soon.
And the problem doesn't end there. We discovered what we've come to call the rot only incidentally, smelling it as a man cleaned out his desk after a quiet firing. His mouth, for our purposes here, could be said to have left the company before him, as many as 3 to 6 months before him -- as his mouth was completely gone. In it's place, the man had a kind of tree bark like growth protruding from his face and a number of puss filled lumps stretching in veiny clumps where his lips used to be. He wrote on a paper, in the handwriting of an angry child, that he wasn't the only one, that they'd all been quietly pushed out. At the nearby hospitals, we found hundreds of business men and women cordoned into their own wing, each of their mouths a unique fractal-like mess. Though their knees were fine, they wouldn't be kissing ass any time soon. The floor manager at the hospital whispered to us that they had already closed down the children's cancer wing in order to accommodate the increasing number of rot cases and that a geriatric unit was slated to be condensed as early as next week. We all had the word pandemic in our throats but feigned professional disinterest as best we could.
Recommendations
Though the problems themselves humble us in their enormity, the solutions are surprisingly simple, if hard to enforce. #1. Knee guards for all employees, large and small, must be required with as much seriousness as certifications and profits. #2. The use of dental dams for all ass kissing measures, to curb the spread of rot. Though the business world may take a few hits in terms of overall temperament and efficiency, in that ass kissing with a dental dam is far less intimate and greatly reduces the pleasure and tandem senses of sub- and in- feriority, the long term effects are undeniable: with these protections, our economy can continue, and without -- our economy will likely collapse. Barring an unlikely government intervention, each individual in the business world must do their parts.
Lingering Aromas
It is the strong opinion of a number of agents, though not all, that the above measures will not suffice, that the problem is more deeply rooted in something harder to pinpoint. At the moment, their ideas are uncorroborated save for a few anecdotal whiffs and sniffs. However, leaving them out of the report seems unwise given the unprecedented nature and import of the circumstances.
The small cadre of agents has reported that their may be a larger, central set of elements, "super ass kissing elements." They have proposed not only that the companies themselves have knees, mouths, and anuses, but that they are experiencing the same symptoms as the people who constitute their company. They have speculated that the knees, for example, might exist as an amalgamation of portions of the subway system, maintenance tunnels and sewage tracks. The mouths may be a collective born from interconnected phone lines, emails and satellite dishes. The anus could be some sort of emotional average, a psychological mean or median, as yet to be even partially defined. The agents are currently writing a grant to begin research into the possible construction of dental dams and knees guards at this level and scale, the notes from which include, among other things, a revamping of the entire national grid and the collection of stool samples from a cross section of demographics, are at best absurd, at worst insane, or in some unknown and terrifying mixture of best and worst, completely necessary.
------------
On the Necessity of Proper Protection for Knees and Mouths in Business
Abstract
Kissing ass requires only three basic things: 1) an ass, 2) a mouth to kiss it with, and 3) knees to support the mouth. In practicality, there is often much more involved, but we feel it is important for the intentions of this report to make clear that, hypothetically, a mouth that sat atop knees without a body, would suffice in laying lips on an anus, whereas a mouth without knees would simply lay puckering on the office floor as if trying to suck water from the lights. These three things are the essential elements, constituting the entirety of the periodic table, of ass kissing.
We will not enumerate the benefits of ass kissing here, as they are both well-known and in fact innumerable, but will render instead a description of how the indispensable function has been crippled and how it can be maintained even at the fantastically high volumes modern global business requires.
Findings
The first thing we smelled upon entering the financial district? Bone. Using a cross section of our team's nose readings, we were able to create a computer model of nearby business people. As expected, they were the source of most of the bone smell (a small percentage accounted for by some lunches and head injuries), and after a number of forced medical examinations, we were able to deduce that in all cases, the bones were exposed at the knee. Post examination interviews (beatings) revealed that these poor business people are unable now to lower into the position because of the pain, unendurable. This, among other things, reduced a large portion of the glue that holds businesses together, namely a mixture of saliva, fecal matter and blood, halting momentum throughout their companies. Searching for the familiar scent of bone throughout Wall Street, we found it everywhere, in every corner and crevice, from the the janitors to the CEOs, each in their own respective holes. A complete standstill is inevitable, we realized, if something is not done, and soon.
And the problem doesn't end there. We discovered what we've come to call the rot only incidentally, smelling it as a man cleaned out his desk after a quiet firing. His mouth, for our purposes here, could be said to have left the company before him, as many as 3 to 6 months before him -- as his mouth was completely gone. In it's place, the man had a kind of tree bark like growth protruding from his face and a number of puss filled lumps stretching in veiny clumps where his lips used to be. He wrote on a paper, in the handwriting of an angry child, that he wasn't the only one, that they'd all been quietly pushed out. At the nearby hospitals, we found hundreds of business men and women cordoned into their own wing, each of their mouths a unique fractal-like mess. Though their knees were fine, they wouldn't be kissing ass any time soon. The floor manager at the hospital whispered to us that they had already closed down the children's cancer wing in order to accommodate the increasing number of rot cases and that a geriatric unit was slated to be condensed as early as next week. We all had the word pandemic in our throats but feigned professional disinterest as best we could.
Recommendations
Though the problems themselves humble us in their enormity, the solutions are surprisingly simple, if hard to enforce. #1. Knee guards for all employees, large and small, must be required with as much seriousness as certifications and profits. #2. The use of dental dams for all ass kissing measures, to curb the spread of rot. Though the business world may take a few hits in terms of overall temperament and efficiency, in that ass kissing with a dental dam is far less intimate and greatly reduces the pleasure and tandem senses of sub- and in- feriority, the long term effects are undeniable: with these protections, our economy can continue, and without -- our economy will likely collapse. Barring an unlikely government intervention, each individual in the business world must do their parts.
Lingering Aromas
It is the strong opinion of a number of agents, though not all, that the above measures will not suffice, that the problem is more deeply rooted in something harder to pinpoint. At the moment, their ideas are uncorroborated save for a few anecdotal whiffs and sniffs. However, leaving them out of the report seems unwise given the unprecedented nature and import of the circumstances.
The small cadre of agents has reported that their may be a larger, central set of elements, "super ass kissing elements." They have proposed not only that the companies themselves have knees, mouths, and anuses, but that they are experiencing the same symptoms as the people who constitute their company. They have speculated that the knees, for example, might exist as an amalgamation of portions of the subway system, maintenance tunnels and sewage tracks. The mouths may be a collective born from interconnected phone lines, emails and satellite dishes. The anus could be some sort of emotional average, a psychological mean or median, as yet to be even partially defined. The agents are currently writing a grant to begin research into the possible construction of dental dams and knees guards at this level and scale, the notes from which include, among other things, a revamping of the entire national grid and the collection of stool samples from a cross section of demographics, are at best absurd, at worst insane, or in some unknown and terrifying mixture of best and worst, completely necessary.
Daily Inspirational #2.034: How To Imagine Yourself
Today, picture yourself as horse meat. Imagine that you are flesh connected to bone via a variety of tissues. Imagine that your friends are other muscles.
Imagine your life bounding across a rocky plain. Imagine it astride other lives. Your horse-life is galloping and you are in part making it happen by pulling a bone or two this way and that.
Now picture the meat-you-horsey growing technical apparatuses. Imagine cables with wi-fi capabilities giving new information to the plants and the rocks.
Your life runs around, with you as a meager part of it, in search of sustenance while it electronically communicates with things that don't matter to you!
The moral for today is that you cannot be a horse or any part of it.
Lucky numbers: 13, 45.67777, 0.99999....(1), 0.you.not.being.a.horse.at.all.loser
Neigh!
Imagine your life bounding across a rocky plain. Imagine it astride other lives. Your horse-life is galloping and you are in part making it happen by pulling a bone or two this way and that.
Now picture the meat-you-horsey growing technical apparatuses. Imagine cables with wi-fi capabilities giving new information to the plants and the rocks.
Your life runs around, with you as a meager part of it, in search of sustenance while it electronically communicates with things that don't matter to you!
The moral for today is that you cannot be a horse or any part of it.
Lucky numbers: 13, 45.67777, 0.99999....(1), 0.you.not.being.a.horse.at.all.loser
Neigh!
Daily Inspirational #2,033: 5 Amazing Ways to Start Your Day With Confidence
1. Eat a healthy breakfast
Often, the one difference between a good day and all out war is a few eggs and toast. Poland skipped breakfast and Hitler invaded. 9/11 skipped breakfast and flew planes into itself. So, when you get up, find some eggs. Find some toast. Cook the eggs. Cook the toast. Eat the eggs. Eat the toast. You will have done your part in saving our nation and economy. Bonus points for grapefruit -- which builds orphanages. 10,000 life points!
2. Mirror pep talk
Try standing in front of the mirror and telling it how much you like it. For goodness sake, your mirror is always honest with you, so tell it how much you appreciate that already, and then for the rest of the day, you'll feel like you've done a good thing for someone, namely a glass picture of yourself. Happy mirrors are known to bring good luck, too. While you are gone it might even clean your room and think about telling you secrets. Very happy mirrors follow you wherever you go and make magic happen, like tax deductions. The first fifteen people to do this every morning get six coupons redeemable somewhere you can never find! Feel the potential!
3. Kill your parents
Shoot them in the head and take their powers, which are many. Their powers need to be scraped off the wall. This should get you through the day, at least until lunch time. Look for the secret decoder ring.
4. Establish a form of mental domination over someone weaker than you
Spend each morning slowly breaking someone down until they give up completely. You will feel as if you are working toward a larger goal -- the pay off to which is especially rewarding. Also, in the end, there will be one less person to compete against -- which brings you one step closer to winning. Tip: Children are easy and can be broken in batches, but they have a low "power-pulp" (flesh) yield..
5. Get into the the freezer, naked
And never come out. Free shipping.
5. Don't get up at all
There are two ways to do this. First, stay in bed and pretend you are dead while your loved ones scream and cry over your catatonic body.
Second, stay laying down but do get out of bed: then wiggle out of the house, slithering around on the ground. This will give you a new perspective on things. 1/2 off!
5. Ride a lawnmower around the football field
Seriously, this feels great. Don't mow anything though. This is about you, not grass. While supplies last! Yes!
Good morning and good luck.
Often, the one difference between a good day and all out war is a few eggs and toast. Poland skipped breakfast and Hitler invaded. 9/11 skipped breakfast and flew planes into itself. So, when you get up, find some eggs. Find some toast. Cook the eggs. Cook the toast. Eat the eggs. Eat the toast. You will have done your part in saving our nation and economy. Bonus points for grapefruit -- which builds orphanages. 10,000 life points!
2. Mirror pep talk
Try standing in front of the mirror and telling it how much you like it. For goodness sake, your mirror is always honest with you, so tell it how much you appreciate that already, and then for the rest of the day, you'll feel like you've done a good thing for someone, namely a glass picture of yourself. Happy mirrors are known to bring good luck, too. While you are gone it might even clean your room and think about telling you secrets. Very happy mirrors follow you wherever you go and make magic happen, like tax deductions. The first fifteen people to do this every morning get six coupons redeemable somewhere you can never find! Feel the potential!
3. Kill your parents
Shoot them in the head and take their powers, which are many. Their powers need to be scraped off the wall. This should get you through the day, at least until lunch time. Look for the secret decoder ring.
4. Establish a form of mental domination over someone weaker than you
Spend each morning slowly breaking someone down until they give up completely. You will feel as if you are working toward a larger goal -- the pay off to which is especially rewarding. Also, in the end, there will be one less person to compete against -- which brings you one step closer to winning. Tip: Children are easy and can be broken in batches, but they have a low "power-pulp" (flesh) yield..
5. Get into the the freezer, naked
And never come out. Free shipping.
5. Don't get up at all
There are two ways to do this. First, stay in bed and pretend you are dead while your loved ones scream and cry over your catatonic body.
Second, stay laying down but do get out of bed: then wiggle out of the house, slithering around on the ground. This will give you a new perspective on things. 1/2 off!
5. Ride a lawnmower around the football field
Seriously, this feels great. Don't mow anything though. This is about you, not grass. While supplies last! Yes!
Good morning and good luck.
Daily Inspirational #2,032: Bee Like a Honeycomb
It has been said that a bees' nest is more alive than the animals that make it their home. In fact, this has been said so loud that it could be heard all the way from Madagascar to another part of Madagascar. In as much as volume determines truth, this bee thing is therefore pretty true and you should heed its warning.
Yes, it is a warning, albeit an inspiring warning. If you heed hard enough, you will become so forewarned that you will surge with inspiration. So, let's heed. Together.
Imagine your world is an enormous urban nest. Imagine that at night you return to a small cubby amongst other cubbies in order to sleep. Imagine that in the morning, you wake up to throw yourself hard at the wall of the impossibly inane. After a day of wall slamming, someone gives you or the person next to you a smile and you return home to your cubby. Something sticky is everywhere.
Now imagine that the nest, the cubbies and the walls are alive and you are not. Imagine this because it is true, at least in this hypothetical scenario, which if you think about it isn't hypothetical at all but actually your life, hypothetically.
You are a blood vessel in a large, comby organ. No, you are a slightly irritated calcium deposit loosed into the honey stream for a brief moment in the sun, though there is no sun, it's extremely dark and very sticky. The walls and holes keep on living just as they like while you slave away to maintain them in perfect order.
And wait -- what's that? The stickiness is you?
Well, guess what? It's time to become the nest. It's time to be the honey comb. It's time to rent out your body and let people live in it. It's time to open a business on your thigh, to sell produce from your love handles. Redevelop your flanks with ambitious projects, invite diversity to your toes with a variety of national parades.
The only way to truly live is to let people live all over you.
And you know what else? We've said this all so loudly that it's so true you can't change it. We hired a machine to bellow it all so loudly that the sound bounced back and destroyed the machine so nothing can be louder and nothing will ever be true again.
So, crack open a vein and let us in, let us all in. We're moving deep inside you to let you live.
You'll love it. And remember, this offer won't last long, so heed hard before it's too late.
Yes, it is a warning, albeit an inspiring warning. If you heed hard enough, you will become so forewarned that you will surge with inspiration. So, let's heed. Together.
Imagine your world is an enormous urban nest. Imagine that at night you return to a small cubby amongst other cubbies in order to sleep. Imagine that in the morning, you wake up to throw yourself hard at the wall of the impossibly inane. After a day of wall slamming, someone gives you or the person next to you a smile and you return home to your cubby. Something sticky is everywhere.
Now imagine that the nest, the cubbies and the walls are alive and you are not. Imagine this because it is true, at least in this hypothetical scenario, which if you think about it isn't hypothetical at all but actually your life, hypothetically.
You are a blood vessel in a large, comby organ. No, you are a slightly irritated calcium deposit loosed into the honey stream for a brief moment in the sun, though there is no sun, it's extremely dark and very sticky. The walls and holes keep on living just as they like while you slave away to maintain them in perfect order.
And wait -- what's that? The stickiness is you?
Well, guess what? It's time to become the nest. It's time to be the honey comb. It's time to rent out your body and let people live in it. It's time to open a business on your thigh, to sell produce from your love handles. Redevelop your flanks with ambitious projects, invite diversity to your toes with a variety of national parades.
The only way to truly live is to let people live all over you.
And you know what else? We've said this all so loudly that it's so true you can't change it. We hired a machine to bellow it all so loudly that the sound bounced back and destroyed the machine so nothing can be louder and nothing will ever be true again.
So, crack open a vein and let us in, let us all in. We're moving deep inside you to let you live.
You'll love it. And remember, this offer won't last long, so heed hard before it's too late.
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