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.
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.
Daily Inspirational #921: Just Give Up
It only gets worse. How do we know? Despite your arrogant ignorance (and ignorant arrogance), other people have lived your subpar life many times over, often as a punishment or egocentric display of martyrdom, but most commonly as an unfortunate mistake while misreading the map on the road to some better life. And guess what? All the surveys and interviews and exit polls from your existence show that the moment you're living right now? That's the point at which it never gets better, but only worse, steadily and assuredly. Yes, the moment you realized that your life is used, abused, misbegotten, and ultimately headed downhill is the greatest moment of your life. So, give up now and fill out this survey, sign the contract, and give us everything.
Why Eating Might Kill You
If you're like the rest of us, sometimes you eat. And just like us, you wish you could stop because you are literally dripping with the physical remnants of your impulsive behavior. And god, how many times have you resolved to give up food on New Years Eve?
110 times -- we've been counting.
It's time to face facts, though -- you aren't giving up food. Few know this, but studies have shown that food may be necessary for a healthy life style. Yet, other studies show that food is the number one cause of death in all of the world and throughout all of history. It's also the reason you are so fat and stupid which you are admit it. These facts are hard to understand and you've spent your life trying not to solve the equation, but guess what? You're over 100 years old and you aren't getting any younger, so it's time to accept the reality of it all.
You are an eating monster and everyone is disgusted by you.
So what then? You can't give up food, it's impossible -- and you can't live without eating, studies have shown -- so what the hell? I mean, really, what the hell.
Is every human doomed at birth to die of either starvation or eating related diseases?
Until today, the answer to that question would have been yes. Today, however, that answer is a strong maybe because of the BCCWE diet.
This is the only diet that guarantees the possibility of living forever.
BCCWE stands for:
Always Bread
Never Cheese
Sometimes Corn
Usually Water
and a pinch of no Exceptions except sometimes, to taste!
Here's a quick explanation of it all:
Always Bread
Bread is never bad for you and if you eat it all the time everyday you will be showered with the love and praise and success that you've always dreamed of and never deserved. Seriously, try it. The Atkins diet is actually an extension of the Eugenics program intended to keep minorities away from the precious commodity of bread which as we all know is the flesh of Christ -- refined.
Never Cheese
Cheese is a sexually transmitted disease. No joke. Sure it tastes great, but guess what? It's just a whipped and churned and aged STD and it will strangle you in your sleep and, like all STDs, will steal your identity and empty your bank accounts while telling your mother lies about you over coffee on Sunday while you have to run errands because you're the responsible one and why doesn't anyone notice that but whatever you're not going to say anything. Avoid it at all costs.
Sometimes Corn
If you are in tune with rightness and goodness (and you better be -- otherwise, get out!), you will know when it is time to eat corn. You should get a kind of rattling feeling in your kneecaps and a series of pulleys should yank you in the direction of Kansas. Otherwise, avoid corn because it supports child labor.
Usually Water
Drink water non stop, but then other times don't. If you follow this exactly, you will be good. If not, it's going to be bad. Maybe.
A pinch of no Exceptions except sometimes, to taste!
Don't break these rules if you want to live, unless you need to, then it's okay. You can write in to the central credit union explaining the mitigating circumstances and have your case looked at by a 3rd party -- if it goes well, your exceptions will not lead to immediate annihilation but instead to a huge celebration at the local Rec Center for discovering a great opportunity for all of us to finally indulge in what we have so long denied ourselves because of stupid regulations! Thanks. Otherwise, they'll fucking kill you because you can't stay in line and are deliberately thwarting authority.
So guess what? Eating is ridiculous and insane but that's the way the world works and you have to do it, so do it right! Use the BCCWE diet or rot in hell you fat whore.
PS: I don't love you any more and I'm keeping the kids.
110 times -- we've been counting.
It's time to face facts, though -- you aren't giving up food. Few know this, but studies have shown that food may be necessary for a healthy life style. Yet, other studies show that food is the number one cause of death in all of the world and throughout all of history. It's also the reason you are so fat and stupid which you are admit it. These facts are hard to understand and you've spent your life trying not to solve the equation, but guess what? You're over 100 years old and you aren't getting any younger, so it's time to accept the reality of it all.
You are an eating monster and everyone is disgusted by you.
So what then? You can't give up food, it's impossible -- and you can't live without eating, studies have shown -- so what the hell? I mean, really, what the hell.
Is every human doomed at birth to die of either starvation or eating related diseases?
Until today, the answer to that question would have been yes. Today, however, that answer is a strong maybe because of the BCCWE diet.
This is the only diet that guarantees the possibility of living forever.
BCCWE stands for:
Always Bread
Never Cheese
Sometimes Corn
Usually Water
and a pinch of no Exceptions except sometimes, to taste!
Here's a quick explanation of it all:
Always Bread
Bread is never bad for you and if you eat it all the time everyday you will be showered with the love and praise and success that you've always dreamed of and never deserved. Seriously, try it. The Atkins diet is actually an extension of the Eugenics program intended to keep minorities away from the precious commodity of bread which as we all know is the flesh of Christ -- refined.
Never Cheese
Cheese is a sexually transmitted disease. No joke. Sure it tastes great, but guess what? It's just a whipped and churned and aged STD and it will strangle you in your sleep and, like all STDs, will steal your identity and empty your bank accounts while telling your mother lies about you over coffee on Sunday while you have to run errands because you're the responsible one and why doesn't anyone notice that but whatever you're not going to say anything. Avoid it at all costs.
Sometimes Corn
If you are in tune with rightness and goodness (and you better be -- otherwise, get out!), you will know when it is time to eat corn. You should get a kind of rattling feeling in your kneecaps and a series of pulleys should yank you in the direction of Kansas. Otherwise, avoid corn because it supports child labor.
Usually Water
Drink water non stop, but then other times don't. If you follow this exactly, you will be good. If not, it's going to be bad. Maybe.
A pinch of no Exceptions except sometimes, to taste!
Don't break these rules if you want to live, unless you need to, then it's okay. You can write in to the central credit union explaining the mitigating circumstances and have your case looked at by a 3rd party -- if it goes well, your exceptions will not lead to immediate annihilation but instead to a huge celebration at the local Rec Center for discovering a great opportunity for all of us to finally indulge in what we have so long denied ourselves because of stupid regulations! Thanks. Otherwise, they'll fucking kill you because you can't stay in line and are deliberately thwarting authority.
So guess what? Eating is ridiculous and insane but that's the way the world works and you have to do it, so do it right! Use the BCCWE diet or rot in hell you fat whore.
PS: I don't love you any more and I'm keeping the kids.
Business Scent$ #2: Why Murder is Moral
Recognize the gap
Few businesses ever consider the question of whether it is okay to kill another human being. "What does murder have to do with my business?" you might ask. The answer of course, is "Nothing" -- and that's exactly your problem.
Listen, the world's most successful governments have all grappled with this issue, so why can't you? Why are you wasting time with all those meetings and copy machines -- when you could be stocking your store houses with sickles and guns?
"But I've got a company to run!" you might say, but let's be honest here: no you don't. This is all just hypothetical and you should be grateful I even pretend to believe you might have a company.
So, anyway, this company you don't run? All of its problems stem from one central notion. It boils down to this: the reason your company hasn't been successful while great nations and governments have is because they're killing people and you are not.
Did you know?
People don't just die. No, they are killed. In reality or the "real-life" world, people are immortal. That's a fact. The only way to die is to be murdered. This has been known for centuries but kept under wraps by an enormous group of people who have asked to remain anonymous.
This anonymous group -- mainly financial investors working for Coca-Cola, a small start-up out of Nigeria -- have fashioned a number of effective diseases and ailments. "Old age" is the one they are most proud of and amused by --they can't seem to utter it without just barely stifling a giggle.
These guys have a fantastic racket going that even the smartest and most progressive businesses are now taking note of. When you kill, stocks go up.
The Humanitarian Angle: People don't want to live forever, anyway
If people wanted to live forever, they would, pure and simple.
People are in control of their own lives! This fact has been peer reviewed and vetted by the Union. Unless you want a legal battle with the Union, you better believe people can do whatever they want.
And if they really wanted to live forever so badly, wouldn't they have done it by now? As a matter of fact, no one has ever lived forever. So, clearly no one wants to do this shit.
That's why it's almost charitable when you knock some one's head in with a stick or rock -- you're giving them exactly what they've always wanted but just haven't gotten around to getting yet.
So, the bottom line? Murder is tax deductible.
One man's death...
...is another man's avocado salad. That's right -- if prepared correctly, murder is edible and delicious.
And since murder is an idea, it never goes bad! And you can never run out -- you can just keep eating it and eating and eating it.
And guess what? Company food needs can be subsidized by government grants, so the cost of murder stays low -- and mouthwatering.
Mother Nature prefers it
Across the globe, murder hatcheries are thriving. These death farms allow families of murders to roam freely in open terrain -- terrain where reformed game hunters come from all around to finally do some hunting that doesn't hurt anyone except the people being murdered, but they were going to be murdered anyway -- because they were grown for that express purpose!
Murdering on purpose gives murder a purpose!
But is it moral?
Obviously, yes, but who cares? Forget morality for a second. Instead, I'd like you to think about murder. Picture it in your mind. Say the words, "It is good for my company," and believe them, really, really believe them as hard as you can.
Actually, you don't have to believe anything if you don't want to -- just tell people that you do. That's good enough.
They'll be dead soon anyway.
Few businesses ever consider the question of whether it is okay to kill another human being. "What does murder have to do with my business?" you might ask. The answer of course, is "Nothing" -- and that's exactly your problem.
Listen, the world's most successful governments have all grappled with this issue, so why can't you? Why are you wasting time with all those meetings and copy machines -- when you could be stocking your store houses with sickles and guns?
"But I've got a company to run!" you might say, but let's be honest here: no you don't. This is all just hypothetical and you should be grateful I even pretend to believe you might have a company.
So, anyway, this company you don't run? All of its problems stem from one central notion. It boils down to this: the reason your company hasn't been successful while great nations and governments have is because they're killing people and you are not.
Did you know?
People don't just die. No, they are killed. In reality or the "real-life" world, people are immortal. That's a fact. The only way to die is to be murdered. This has been known for centuries but kept under wraps by an enormous group of people who have asked to remain anonymous.
This anonymous group -- mainly financial investors working for Coca-Cola, a small start-up out of Nigeria -- have fashioned a number of effective diseases and ailments. "Old age" is the one they are most proud of and amused by --they can't seem to utter it without just barely stifling a giggle.
These guys have a fantastic racket going that even the smartest and most progressive businesses are now taking note of. When you kill, stocks go up.
The Humanitarian Angle: People don't want to live forever, anyway
If people wanted to live forever, they would, pure and simple.
People are in control of their own lives! This fact has been peer reviewed and vetted by the Union. Unless you want a legal battle with the Union, you better believe people can do whatever they want.
And if they really wanted to live forever so badly, wouldn't they have done it by now? As a matter of fact, no one has ever lived forever. So, clearly no one wants to do this shit.
That's why it's almost charitable when you knock some one's head in with a stick or rock -- you're giving them exactly what they've always wanted but just haven't gotten around to getting yet.
So, the bottom line? Murder is tax deductible.
One man's death...
...is another man's avocado salad. That's right -- if prepared correctly, murder is edible and delicious.
And since murder is an idea, it never goes bad! And you can never run out -- you can just keep eating it and eating and eating it.
And guess what? Company food needs can be subsidized by government grants, so the cost of murder stays low -- and mouthwatering.
Mother Nature prefers it
Across the globe, murder hatcheries are thriving. These death farms allow families of murders to roam freely in open terrain -- terrain where reformed game hunters come from all around to finally do some hunting that doesn't hurt anyone except the people being murdered, but they were going to be murdered anyway -- because they were grown for that express purpose!
Murdering on purpose gives murder a purpose!
But is it moral?
Obviously, yes, but who cares? Forget morality for a second. Instead, I'd like you to think about murder. Picture it in your mind. Say the words, "It is good for my company," and believe them, really, really believe them as hard as you can.
Actually, you don't have to believe anything if you don't want to -- just tell people that you do. That's good enough.
They'll be dead soon anyway.
Business Scents #1: Starting Your Own Company
You Want To Be Your Own Boss
This is true of all humans. It's genetic. Ironically, even though you may want to be him, you also hate your boss. It at first appears to not make any sense, but since it is also genetic that you hate yourself, this seemingly paradoxical idea is actually a foregone conclusion: you want to be your boss because it's more efficient. You will only have to hate one person, yourself -- rather than two -- in order to get the same amount accomplished. You will end up with a surplus of hate that can be used elsewhere, giving you an edge on competitors.
Take this noble desire to maximize your hate's potential -- and commence with the following steps in order to successfully launch your own business.
1. Get a "Partner"
Yes, any good business has a partner. Partners help accomplish tasks and achieve company goals. You often hear people saying, "I made partner!" with glee. What most people don't know, though, is that partner is another word for patsy. No one wants to be called patsy, though, and you wouldn't be able to hire anyone for that position. People have pride and integrity and you need to respect that, so when you coerce and manipulate a close business associate into lending you money and giving you free intellectual property, call him or her "partner." This will make it seem as if things are great for them too and not just you.
Maintaining a good "seemingness" is the key to a strong business.
2. Establish Your Seeming
One important thing you need to know is that your company doesn't need to do anything. It is a well known fact that most new businesses fail, but very few people are aware that the failures are due in large part to one fatal mistake: these companies try to actually do, sell, make, or supply something. It is a myth that successful companies do anything at all, and it is one that you need to let go of as soon as possible if you want any hope of making this work.
So, forget what your business will or will not actually do, sit down with a pen and paper, and write out a bunch of things that you think sound fantastic. Anything will do. Here is an example: "Bringing together community and family in order to ease the lives of millions." Wouldn't that be nice? Absolutely! Write it down -- that's a freebie. This list will constitute how your business appears to others.
A great way to do this, actually, is simply to "get together" with your partner (you don't really need to be there, but just say "get together") and have him or her make this list for you. Make sure you remind your partner that it was your idea to have him or her come up with all the ideas -- otherwise your partner might start to think they are doing all the work (which they are, if you are doing this right, but keep that on the DL).
Now, once your partner is finished doing your work, walk around telling everyone that the world is a wonderful place but wouldn't it be better if we had all the things on this list? Then give them your card and get out of there before they start asking questions. You might not even know what's on the list (you don't need to because none of it is going to happen), so if people start asking questions, the seemingness of it all might begin to deteriorate, and that's when you will have to prove something, and then before you know it you'll need to "produce results" and then your company is yesterday's bad joke.
So, remember, 1) the world is great, but it can be better if we do some things that your company is aligned with (but not actually committed to do), and 3) give out your card and start running.
3. Tell People You Are Making Money
Companies don't make money. That's a fact. What differentiates a successful company from an unsuccessful company is how well they can convince others that they are making money.
But doesn't Coca-Cola make a lot of money? And what about Google and Microsoft? Aren't they making a lot of money?
The fact that you might believe they are making a lot of money is only more proof of how good these companies are at convincing people that they are making a lot of money. If it is hard to let go of this belief, it is because these companies are true mavericks.
Convincing people starts at home. That is, you need to believe before anyone else that you are making a lot of money.
It's simple: Set up a bank account. Get ledgers. Write lots of numbers on pads. Use calculators. Tally things up. Make a habit of going to the bank and casually checking things out. Look at stock options with calm curiosity.
Share these numbers with others and tell them things are going just great. You may go into enormous debt, but keep telling people that you are successful, much more than them.
This is the definition of success.
4. Get a Job To Support Yourself
The toughest part of having your own business and being your own boss is having to find a job to support yourself while you live out this ridiculous fantasy. Check the local classifieds for listings. If you get a good job, you can really finance some great seemingness spectacles for your business. The better you do in your job, the better chance you will have of not needing to work anymore. So keep working, and work hard! If you are lucky, you may be able to work your way up to partner.
Congratulations!
This is true of all humans. It's genetic. Ironically, even though you may want to be him, you also hate your boss. It at first appears to not make any sense, but since it is also genetic that you hate yourself, this seemingly paradoxical idea is actually a foregone conclusion: you want to be your boss because it's more efficient. You will only have to hate one person, yourself -- rather than two -- in order to get the same amount accomplished. You will end up with a surplus of hate that can be used elsewhere, giving you an edge on competitors.
Take this noble desire to maximize your hate's potential -- and commence with the following steps in order to successfully launch your own business.
1. Get a "Partner"
Yes, any good business has a partner. Partners help accomplish tasks and achieve company goals. You often hear people saying, "I made partner!" with glee. What most people don't know, though, is that partner is another word for patsy. No one wants to be called patsy, though, and you wouldn't be able to hire anyone for that position. People have pride and integrity and you need to respect that, so when you coerce and manipulate a close business associate into lending you money and giving you free intellectual property, call him or her "partner." This will make it seem as if things are great for them too and not just you.
Maintaining a good "seemingness" is the key to a strong business.
2. Establish Your Seeming
One important thing you need to know is that your company doesn't need to do anything. It is a well known fact that most new businesses fail, but very few people are aware that the failures are due in large part to one fatal mistake: these companies try to actually do, sell, make, or supply something. It is a myth that successful companies do anything at all, and it is one that you need to let go of as soon as possible if you want any hope of making this work.
So, forget what your business will or will not actually do, sit down with a pen and paper, and write out a bunch of things that you think sound fantastic. Anything will do. Here is an example: "Bringing together community and family in order to ease the lives of millions." Wouldn't that be nice? Absolutely! Write it down -- that's a freebie. This list will constitute how your business appears to others.
A great way to do this, actually, is simply to "get together" with your partner (you don't really need to be there, but just say "get together") and have him or her make this list for you. Make sure you remind your partner that it was your idea to have him or her come up with all the ideas -- otherwise your partner might start to think they are doing all the work (which they are, if you are doing this right, but keep that on the DL).
Now, once your partner is finished doing your work, walk around telling everyone that the world is a wonderful place but wouldn't it be better if we had all the things on this list? Then give them your card and get out of there before they start asking questions. You might not even know what's on the list (you don't need to because none of it is going to happen), so if people start asking questions, the seemingness of it all might begin to deteriorate, and that's when you will have to prove something, and then before you know it you'll need to "produce results" and then your company is yesterday's bad joke.
So, remember, 1) the world is great, but it can be better if we do some things that your company is aligned with (but not actually committed to do), and 3) give out your card and start running.
3. Tell People You Are Making Money
Companies don't make money. That's a fact. What differentiates a successful company from an unsuccessful company is how well they can convince others that they are making money.
But doesn't Coca-Cola make a lot of money? And what about Google and Microsoft? Aren't they making a lot of money?
The fact that you might believe they are making a lot of money is only more proof of how good these companies are at convincing people that they are making a lot of money. If it is hard to let go of this belief, it is because these companies are true mavericks.
Convincing people starts at home. That is, you need to believe before anyone else that you are making a lot of money.
It's simple: Set up a bank account. Get ledgers. Write lots of numbers on pads. Use calculators. Tally things up. Make a habit of going to the bank and casually checking things out. Look at stock options with calm curiosity.
Share these numbers with others and tell them things are going just great. You may go into enormous debt, but keep telling people that you are successful, much more than them.
This is the definition of success.
4. Get a Job To Support Yourself
The toughest part of having your own business and being your own boss is having to find a job to support yourself while you live out this ridiculous fantasy. Check the local classifieds for listings. If you get a good job, you can really finance some great seemingness spectacles for your business. The better you do in your job, the better chance you will have of not needing to work anymore. So keep working, and work hard! If you are lucky, you may be able to work your way up to partner.
Congratulations!
Daily Inspirational #913: Today, Sit Down Triumphantly
You have fantastic legs. The knees, the ankles, the calves, and the ham strings -- behold the glory of your bipedal standing.
Everyday the world tells you to stand up for your rights, to rise up for what you believe and to stand in defiance of those who would oppose you. And you know what, you may or may not be doing a great job! I don't know the first thing about you. Maybe you're a coward and maybe you're a hero -- in either event, sit down and shut up already. It's all the same because you're being used.
That's right -- you need to act is if you don't have a leg to stand on. Sure, you've got your principles and your values, but isn't it time you stopped using those as crutches to lift yourself up? Look at yourself in the mirror and tell me whether or not you could even come close to standing up without your precious "values."
That's not who you are. No, you are not values or principles -- that's stupid -- you are a spineless lump who just so happens to have two glorious legs and a set of meaningless belief crutches that make you feel like a man. Throw them all aside and plant your ass in a chair to find out what you're really made of.
Doesn't that feel good?
No? Great, then you're doing it right.
You should feel like you can't move -- because you can't. You're stuck where you are. Anything else is a lie because real people can't move.
If you sit long enough, your values and principles will get restless, antsy, and depressed. They will tire of your little chair and your small world view. "Let's go buddy," they'll say, "Let's make change, let's get out there and do it!" Don't listen. Do not be a vehicle for these beliefs and values which are not you, which only want to joyride around in your body under noble but false pretenses.
If a man came and said to you, "Hey, can I sit on your back while you run around town for me so I can yell stupid things at other people?" -- would you do it? No, that's dumb.
The same applies with your values and beliefs. They want a free ride. They want you to stand up and get going -- but for what? For you? No, sir, for themselves. Your altruism and your charity -- these beliefs and values are as selfish as the next guy. They are out for themselves and themselves only, common ne'erdowells and thugs.
The only way to fight them is to stay seated. Oh, you're going to see the ugly side of it, too. Charity will pinch and prod you. Altruism and empathy will bite your neck and slap and spit in your face. Love and kindness and justice will pull your hair and stub your toes.
Stick it out. Stay seated.
Don't move. Be yourself. Be meat. Be bones. Be skin and hair. Be slow decay. Be pumped blood. Be perspiration, flatulence, acid reflux and indigestion. Be hunger, death, and rigor mortise.
All your values, beliefs, and principles will eventually leave in search of a new patsy to manipulate, leaving you behind to defiantly sit in triumph having defeated those who would control you.
Relax and enjoy yourself and your four fantastic wooden legs. You are finally free.
Everyday the world tells you to stand up for your rights, to rise up for what you believe and to stand in defiance of those who would oppose you. And you know what, you may or may not be doing a great job! I don't know the first thing about you. Maybe you're a coward and maybe you're a hero -- in either event, sit down and shut up already. It's all the same because you're being used.
That's right -- you need to act is if you don't have a leg to stand on. Sure, you've got your principles and your values, but isn't it time you stopped using those as crutches to lift yourself up? Look at yourself in the mirror and tell me whether or not you could even come close to standing up without your precious "values."
That's not who you are. No, you are not values or principles -- that's stupid -- you are a spineless lump who just so happens to have two glorious legs and a set of meaningless belief crutches that make you feel like a man. Throw them all aside and plant your ass in a chair to find out what you're really made of.
Doesn't that feel good?
No? Great, then you're doing it right.
You should feel like you can't move -- because you can't. You're stuck where you are. Anything else is a lie because real people can't move.
If you sit long enough, your values and principles will get restless, antsy, and depressed. They will tire of your little chair and your small world view. "Let's go buddy," they'll say, "Let's make change, let's get out there and do it!" Don't listen. Do not be a vehicle for these beliefs and values which are not you, which only want to joyride around in your body under noble but false pretenses.
If a man came and said to you, "Hey, can I sit on your back while you run around town for me so I can yell stupid things at other people?" -- would you do it? No, that's dumb.
The same applies with your values and beliefs. They want a free ride. They want you to stand up and get going -- but for what? For you? No, sir, for themselves. Your altruism and your charity -- these beliefs and values are as selfish as the next guy. They are out for themselves and themselves only, common ne'erdowells and thugs.
The only way to fight them is to stay seated. Oh, you're going to see the ugly side of it, too. Charity will pinch and prod you. Altruism and empathy will bite your neck and slap and spit in your face. Love and kindness and justice will pull your hair and stub your toes.
Stick it out. Stay seated.
Don't move. Be yourself. Be meat. Be bones. Be skin and hair. Be slow decay. Be pumped blood. Be perspiration, flatulence, acid reflux and indigestion. Be hunger, death, and rigor mortise.
All your values, beliefs, and principles will eventually leave in search of a new patsy to manipulate, leaving you behind to defiantly sit in triumph having defeated those who would control you.
Relax and enjoy yourself and your four fantastic wooden legs. You are finally free.
Daily Inspirational #912: Making the Delivery Inside You
Do you not know that your body is a temple of the Holy Spirit, who is in you, whom you have received from God?
-1 Corinthians 6:19 (NIV)
That's right. Your body is a temple, which is really just an archaic word for "living room" and there is spirit housed inside of you, and you have received yourself from God.
As many of you know, modern living rooms, which are crammed full of power-draining entertainment systems and complex gadgets, can wreak hell on the electric bill. As a result, you may need to stay physically fit to maintain a high level of kinetic energy that can be harnessed inside your temple and turned into electrical power. Otherwise, you'll have to pay for it with money -- at least until the delivery has been made -- and that can get pretty pricey.
What delivery? Let me explain. By "Living room" what I really mean is "parcel" or "mail-to-be-delivered." You see, we live in an age of implied meaning. Whereas in the old days, we had a bad habit of choosing ill-fitting words for most things, with modern technology and the power of prayer, we can now simply imply meaning by saying just about anything we want. With God's help, everything has the potential to be understood.
So, here's the deal. It's true that the spirit has been delivered to you and that it lives in a living room inside you. It's also true that at this point in the game, the spirit is not a parcel or any kind of mail to be delivered, despite the fact that you have received it into your home, which is you. Hey, at least it's not your mother-in-law!
Once inside the living room inside you, the spirit will spend most of his time watching cable television, listening to the stereo in Dolby surround sound, relaxing with high-powered electrical massagers while blow drying his hair, microwaving meals, and keeping the electrically-powered robot-maid in constant rotation between the massive refrigerator inside you and the couch where the spirit sits (this means that the appliance's door will often be left open and that the light, which is not an energy saver, will click on more often. You might consider reminding the spirit inside you that the refrigerator is not a television and should therefore have a closed door, but that would simply not be true).
Something to keep in mind: you are an obese and lazy man who has a penchant for irresponsibility. You sit around all day eating microwaved food and getting electric massages. As you consider what I am saying, though you are not a very intelligent person, you may begin to both grope for and also notice certain meaningful similarities between yourself and the spirit inside you who you claim to have received from God. You may ask yourself: Is this you? Well, it's about time you understand that it is.
Soon you will have recognized that the spirit inside of you that you swear to God has been delivered to you by God in a time of desolation, failure and loneliness -- by God -- is you. It is here that the spirit, which is you, and which has been rumored to have been delivered to you, not as mail but as something else, has at last made a profound and moving transformation. It has become mail, the greatest and most important parcel in your entire life.
Being nothing more than a reflection of what's inside of you, and therefore having been transformed into your truest form, you realize that you are finally nothing more than a parcel with a parcel inside you. In fact, you are so excited, you pack your bags, tack a note of apology for the electric company, who's bill you haven't paid in nearly a year, onto yourself and set yourself out on the front stoop to be delivered to the only person who could possibly care: You.
So, remember: try to stay physically fit (or just use the "tack a note and run" suggestion per above) and use the extra cash you save on electricity to tip your mailman on his birthday -- which some say is Christmas, much in the same way that some say Jesus Christ is God -- lest he deliver you, God help us, to somebody else.
As many of you know, modern living rooms, which are crammed full of power-draining entertainment systems and complex gadgets, can wreak hell on the electric bill. As a result, you may need to stay physically fit to maintain a high level of kinetic energy that can be harnessed inside your temple and turned into electrical power. Otherwise, you'll have to pay for it with money -- at least until the delivery has been made -- and that can get pretty pricey.
What delivery? Let me explain. By "Living room" what I really mean is "parcel" or "mail-to-be-delivered." You see, we live in an age of implied meaning. Whereas in the old days, we had a bad habit of choosing ill-fitting words for most things, with modern technology and the power of prayer, we can now simply imply meaning by saying just about anything we want. With God's help, everything has the potential to be understood.
So, here's the deal. It's true that the spirit has been delivered to you and that it lives in a living room inside you. It's also true that at this point in the game, the spirit is not a parcel or any kind of mail to be delivered, despite the fact that you have received it into your home, which is you. Hey, at least it's not your mother-in-law!
Once inside the living room inside you, the spirit will spend most of his time watching cable television, listening to the stereo in Dolby surround sound, relaxing with high-powered electrical massagers while blow drying his hair, microwaving meals, and keeping the electrically-powered robot-maid in constant rotation between the massive refrigerator inside you and the couch where the spirit sits (this means that the appliance's door will often be left open and that the light, which is not an energy saver, will click on more often. You might consider reminding the spirit inside you that the refrigerator is not a television and should therefore have a closed door, but that would simply not be true).
Something to keep in mind: you are an obese and lazy man who has a penchant for irresponsibility. You sit around all day eating microwaved food and getting electric massages. As you consider what I am saying, though you are not a very intelligent person, you may begin to both grope for and also notice certain meaningful similarities between yourself and the spirit inside you who you claim to have received from God. You may ask yourself: Is this you? Well, it's about time you understand that it is.
Soon you will have recognized that the spirit inside of you that you swear to God has been delivered to you by God in a time of desolation, failure and loneliness -- by God -- is you. It is here that the spirit, which is you, and which has been rumored to have been delivered to you, not as mail but as something else, has at last made a profound and moving transformation. It has become mail, the greatest and most important parcel in your entire life.
Being nothing more than a reflection of what's inside of you, and therefore having been transformed into your truest form, you realize that you are finally nothing more than a parcel with a parcel inside you. In fact, you are so excited, you pack your bags, tack a note of apology for the electric company, who's bill you haven't paid in nearly a year, onto yourself and set yourself out on the front stoop to be delivered to the only person who could possibly care: You.
So, remember: try to stay physically fit (or just use the "tack a note and run" suggestion per above) and use the extra cash you save on electricity to tip your mailman on his birthday -- which some say is Christmas, much in the same way that some say Jesus Christ is God -- lest he deliver you, God help us, to somebody else.
Daily Inspiration # 122: Why You Aren't In Love and How To Get In It (and it in you)
It's an all too common scenario: you are alone and have been alone for a long time. Worst of all, you feel as if you will always be alone, and everyone around you seems to confirm this by being with everyone else in the world but you. It's like some terrible game of musical chairs where you can't even hear the goddamn music.
Sure, people notice you. But when they do? They tell you "your table for one is ready, sir/madam." That's right: to everyone else, you are practically genderless. Even you can hardly remember if you are a man or a woman -- because both concepts have nearly lost their meaning.
It comes down to this: nobody loves you and you don't love them either. Who are these people and why should you love them anyway?
If this is how you feel, then congratulations: you have just taken the first step to being in love and, more importantly, having love in you.
The next step is a little more complicated. You need to get someone into your bed, and you have to get them to sleep there. There are numerous books available on this topic -- pick one to your liking and give it a go. They all work. In fact, just buy a book on the subject, hand it to a stranger on the street and they will probably come home and sleep in your bed.
But, contrary to popular belief, 90% of the time this isn't love. Experts will tell you all sorts of things, but most of what they tell you about love is a lie. Here are the top 3 lies love "experts" love to say:
1. Love is a bond between two people. FALSE
2. Love is a deeply emotional experience: FALSE
3. Love can be engendered through intimacy, both sexual and otherwise. FALSE
NO: Love is not a bond, it is not emotional, and it is not intimate or sexual. Rather, love is a nutritional parasite that can only be eaten at night while a stranger is sleeping.
That's right: the one true thing the experts say is: There is love inside all of us. Yes, there is, and it's breeding and multiplying and feeding off of your body.
Love lays it's eggs all around us and gets under our fingernails. At night, the little things come out of our anuses and secrete an ooze that makes you itch. When you scratch near your ass, the eggs are implanted there, hatch, and then crawl in to live and feed.
So, here is what you do: while the stranger you picked up off the street sleeps, keep yourself awake with fresh brewed coffee or caffeine pills. Once the stranger is snoring soundly, shine a flashlight on their anus and wait for love to come marching out. When you see it, snatch it up and gobble it down.
You will feel a high like that of cocaine. It will last for twenty minutes or so, followed by a steep withdrawal. In order to keep the high going, place some tape on your new lover's (yes, you are lovers now!) ass. In the morning, before they wake, remove the tape and have a look. Love will be squirming all over it. Store this in the fridge. It should last you about a week.
Eventually, your tolerance will increase and you will need to ingest more -- and more often. At this point, consider marriage.
Until then, though? Keep taping the anus.
Sure, people notice you. But when they do? They tell you "your table for one is ready, sir/madam." That's right: to everyone else, you are practically genderless. Even you can hardly remember if you are a man or a woman -- because both concepts have nearly lost their meaning.
It comes down to this: nobody loves you and you don't love them either. Who are these people and why should you love them anyway?
If this is how you feel, then congratulations: you have just taken the first step to being in love and, more importantly, having love in you.
The next step is a little more complicated. You need to get someone into your bed, and you have to get them to sleep there. There are numerous books available on this topic -- pick one to your liking and give it a go. They all work. In fact, just buy a book on the subject, hand it to a stranger on the street and they will probably come home and sleep in your bed.
But, contrary to popular belief, 90% of the time this isn't love. Experts will tell you all sorts of things, but most of what they tell you about love is a lie. Here are the top 3 lies love "experts" love to say:
1. Love is a bond between two people. FALSE
2. Love is a deeply emotional experience: FALSE
3. Love can be engendered through intimacy, both sexual and otherwise. FALSE
NO: Love is not a bond, it is not emotional, and it is not intimate or sexual. Rather, love is a nutritional parasite that can only be eaten at night while a stranger is sleeping.
That's right: the one true thing the experts say is: There is love inside all of us. Yes, there is, and it's breeding and multiplying and feeding off of your body.
Love lays it's eggs all around us and gets under our fingernails. At night, the little things come out of our anuses and secrete an ooze that makes you itch. When you scratch near your ass, the eggs are implanted there, hatch, and then crawl in to live and feed.
So, here is what you do: while the stranger you picked up off the street sleeps, keep yourself awake with fresh brewed coffee or caffeine pills. Once the stranger is snoring soundly, shine a flashlight on their anus and wait for love to come marching out. When you see it, snatch it up and gobble it down.
You will feel a high like that of cocaine. It will last for twenty minutes or so, followed by a steep withdrawal. In order to keep the high going, place some tape on your new lover's (yes, you are lovers now!) ass. In the morning, before they wake, remove the tape and have a look. Love will be squirming all over it. Store this in the fridge. It should last you about a week.
Eventually, your tolerance will increase and you will need to ingest more -- and more often. At this point, consider marriage.
Until then, though? Keep taping the anus.
Why the Way You Hold a Wine Glass Might Kill You
It may seem a tad bit unnecessary to discuss how to hold a wine glass while watching the movie Speed, staring Keanu Reeves and Sandra Bullock, but there is a right way and a wrong way to do it -- and it does matter.
Wine is served in a kind of glass called "stemware" because the temperature at which the wine is served has a serious impact on the world's ecological balance. Wine should always be held by the stem of the glass.
If you hold the globe of the glass, the heat of your hand will warm the wine, and the entire earth (because the globe of the wine glass is in fact the entire world globe), causing major earthquakes, flooding, wildfires and the movie Speed, staring Keanu Reeves and Sandra Bullock, to play on a constant loop against the greatest movie screen of all: the night sky. The stars will be obliterated.
The reason for this is that tiny parasite microbes, once locked in the billions of layers of mica in the ancient wine globe, which is the world, will have infected your brain. Those microbes will alter your DNA, the DNA of the world -- and worst of all -- the outcome of the movie Speed, staring Keanu Reeves and Sandra Bullock.
Warming wine above its desired serving temperature will yield unwanted and nasty characteristics in your face and hands, which are the only two things this woman you brought to dinner is looking at anyway.
You will notice that after the first bite of your medium-rare rib-eye, your face and hands will have become three speeding buses that cannot be stopped, just like in the movie Speed, staring Keanu Reeves and Sandra Bullock -- that's right, the movie you just saw with this woman who won't stop staring at your hands and face.
The alcohol in the wine, now in the buses' slimy jaws (the buses will have mouths), will cause disruption to the psyches of the buses (the buses will have feelings), and the buses will explode if the temperature reaches 74 degrees Fahrenheit. You will notice that the major tension here is not unlike that of the movie Speed, staring Keanu Reeves and Sandra Bullock
This kind of detonation could cause major structural damage to the wine glass and therefore the world, not to mention serious embarrassment to you and your date, and the beginning of the end of humanity as we know it.
For what does it mean to be dead except to watch movies repeating against the infinite black heavens that is our night sky?
Enough said? Just hold the glass by the friggin' stem -- that is, unless the wine is served too cool and you need to warm it for a minute. This is sometimes considered acceptable by the riskier restaurateurs during the first frost. But, be warned: you can only warm the world if you have a 1997 984B, with two inline 8 cylinder engines and about 89,000 miles.
If this is the case, excuse yourself from the table, go to the men's room and check to see if the thermostat gauge near the speedometer has started to lean more toward the cold blue section.
But you really shouldn't risk it, because, if you get it wrong, it's not just a matter of Sandra Bullock and Keanu Reeves dying. No, it's that we will have to watch them live and die in a bus explosion many times every day, over and over again, for the rest of eternity -- and no body needs that shit.
Wine is served in a kind of glass called "stemware" because the temperature at which the wine is served has a serious impact on the world's ecological balance. Wine should always be held by the stem of the glass.
If you hold the globe of the glass, the heat of your hand will warm the wine, and the entire earth (because the globe of the wine glass is in fact the entire world globe), causing major earthquakes, flooding, wildfires and the movie Speed, staring Keanu Reeves and Sandra Bullock, to play on a constant loop against the greatest movie screen of all: the night sky. The stars will be obliterated.
The reason for this is that tiny parasite microbes, once locked in the billions of layers of mica in the ancient wine globe, which is the world, will have infected your brain. Those microbes will alter your DNA, the DNA of the world -- and worst of all -- the outcome of the movie Speed, staring Keanu Reeves and Sandra Bullock.
Warming wine above its desired serving temperature will yield unwanted and nasty characteristics in your face and hands, which are the only two things this woman you brought to dinner is looking at anyway.
You will notice that after the first bite of your medium-rare rib-eye, your face and hands will have become three speeding buses that cannot be stopped, just like in the movie Speed, staring Keanu Reeves and Sandra Bullock -- that's right, the movie you just saw with this woman who won't stop staring at your hands and face.
The alcohol in the wine, now in the buses' slimy jaws (the buses will have mouths), will cause disruption to the psyches of the buses (the buses will have feelings), and the buses will explode if the temperature reaches 74 degrees Fahrenheit. You will notice that the major tension here is not unlike that of the movie Speed, staring Keanu Reeves and Sandra Bullock
This kind of detonation could cause major structural damage to the wine glass and therefore the world, not to mention serious embarrassment to you and your date, and the beginning of the end of humanity as we know it.
For what does it mean to be dead except to watch movies repeating against the infinite black heavens that is our night sky?
Enough said? Just hold the glass by the friggin' stem -- that is, unless the wine is served too cool and you need to warm it for a minute. This is sometimes considered acceptable by the riskier restaurateurs during the first frost. But, be warned: you can only warm the world if you have a 1997 984B, with two inline 8 cylinder engines and about 89,000 miles.
If this is the case, excuse yourself from the table, go to the men's room and check to see if the thermostat gauge near the speedometer has started to lean more toward the cold blue section.
But you really shouldn't risk it, because, if you get it wrong, it's not just a matter of Sandra Bullock and Keanu Reeves dying. No, it's that we will have to watch them live and die in a bus explosion many times every day, over and over again, for the rest of eternity -- and no body needs that shit.
Why the Doggy in the Window Might Kill you
Even though you don't use it every day, it haunts you.
You can hear it crying from under every storefront. You can hear it in every squeak of Windex as a paper towel descends upon the windows of your home, of the homes of your family, or the stores at which you purchase non-doggy products.
Yes, you remember the doggy in the window, but what you may still not want to admit is that it may be associated with your death eventually. Deep inside of yourself, you know that this is true and that's why you never bought that dog. In fact, that's why you have only half-asked yourself in a silly sing-song manner that was never convincing, "how much is that doggy in the window?"
Anyway, just so you know, that dog is still there. And guess what? It's not going away. And guess what? Sooner or later, you're going to have to go back and visit it. And guess what? You're going to die eventually and your death may be associated with it.
Here's what might happen.
When you get to the window, look at the dog's eyes and you will see yourself. I don't mean that your face will be in the dog's eyes, but I do mean that the dog will have your face, and that the eyes are a good reference point when looking at the face, and that's why I told you to look at the dog's eyes. For instance, if I had told you to look deeply into the dogs paws, you would hardly be looking at it's face. So look at it's eyes and bear witness to your face.
But beware: It will look like the face of a dog, with black eyes, a cold pink nose, thick brown fur, drooling jowls. It won't look anything like you, so that's why I'm telling you now that it is your face and that you know it is and that it might ultimately, horrifically, be in some way connected to your death at some point.
Next, while looking at each other, sing the "doggy in the window" song very quietly, almost in a whisper. Sing it during the blowing of one of those really eerie winds that, when blowing down the dark and desolate street, reminds you just how sad you are, just how alone and very sad.
Now would probably be the best time to break the glass. Do this with a rock or a brick, or a potato, something you can throw.
Scream a lot and when the dog rises toward you, seemingly floating out the window in slow motion, note that his bottom has been sewn to a thick green thorny stem -- like that of a rose, only much thicker.
Note that this stem has taken root in the soil that has been neatly spread in the display case. The dog, at this point, can be described as some kind of strange dog-flower halfbreed, albeit somewhat top-heavy. As it approaches you, floating there, dumb, slobbering and cute, it will wobble and the stem with snap and it will fall to the concrete, right in front of you, and die.
If you find this image too awful to witness, you may faint and crack your skull on the street, lying in perfect symmetry with the dog, the blood from your head meeting the blood of the dog's head halfway between your heads, as it spreads on the street between your heads.
Or, you may find the whole thing so despairing that you will find the nearest bridge and plunge to your death. Or you may just go home and think to yourself, that was really fucking weird, live out all your days and die peacefully of natural causes.
Either way, there's at least a slight chance that you will die, and, that many years later, on a fateful, foggy night, a handsome, coy and mysterious detective in an overcoat might defy his orders to close the cold case and conclude that your death may or may not have had something to do with that doggy in the window and that no matter what it takes -- he will find out.
You can hear it crying from under every storefront. You can hear it in every squeak of Windex as a paper towel descends upon the windows of your home, of the homes of your family, or the stores at which you purchase non-doggy products.
Yes, you remember the doggy in the window, but what you may still not want to admit is that it may be associated with your death eventually. Deep inside of yourself, you know that this is true and that's why you never bought that dog. In fact, that's why you have only half-asked yourself in a silly sing-song manner that was never convincing, "how much is that doggy in the window?"
Anyway, just so you know, that dog is still there. And guess what? It's not going away. And guess what? Sooner or later, you're going to have to go back and visit it. And guess what? You're going to die eventually and your death may be associated with it.
Here's what might happen.
When you get to the window, look at the dog's eyes and you will see yourself. I don't mean that your face will be in the dog's eyes, but I do mean that the dog will have your face, and that the eyes are a good reference point when looking at the face, and that's why I told you to look at the dog's eyes. For instance, if I had told you to look deeply into the dogs paws, you would hardly be looking at it's face. So look at it's eyes and bear witness to your face.
But beware: It will look like the face of a dog, with black eyes, a cold pink nose, thick brown fur, drooling jowls. It won't look anything like you, so that's why I'm telling you now that it is your face and that you know it is and that it might ultimately, horrifically, be in some way connected to your death at some point.
Next, while looking at each other, sing the "doggy in the window" song very quietly, almost in a whisper. Sing it during the blowing of one of those really eerie winds that, when blowing down the dark and desolate street, reminds you just how sad you are, just how alone and very sad.
Now would probably be the best time to break the glass. Do this with a rock or a brick, or a potato, something you can throw.
Scream a lot and when the dog rises toward you, seemingly floating out the window in slow motion, note that his bottom has been sewn to a thick green thorny stem -- like that of a rose, only much thicker.
Note that this stem has taken root in the soil that has been neatly spread in the display case. The dog, at this point, can be described as some kind of strange dog-flower halfbreed, albeit somewhat top-heavy. As it approaches you, floating there, dumb, slobbering and cute, it will wobble and the stem with snap and it will fall to the concrete, right in front of you, and die.
If you find this image too awful to witness, you may faint and crack your skull on the street, lying in perfect symmetry with the dog, the blood from your head meeting the blood of the dog's head halfway between your heads, as it spreads on the street between your heads.
Or, you may find the whole thing so despairing that you will find the nearest bridge and plunge to your death. Or you may just go home and think to yourself, that was really fucking weird, live out all your days and die peacefully of natural causes.
Either way, there's at least a slight chance that you will die, and, that many years later, on a fateful, foggy night, a handsome, coy and mysterious detective in an overcoat might defy his orders to close the cold case and conclude that your death may or may not have had something to do with that doggy in the window and that no matter what it takes -- he will find out.
Daily Inspiration #121: Smuggle Your Spirit Across The Boarder
Do you ever feel down? Little? Small? Like you are in the wrong aisle of the supermarket with someone else's groceries?
Of course you do! Let's face it, sometimes our spirits get low. "Spirit" is like gasoline: it sits inside of us in a tank where it combusts and burns and makes us move around without even trying. It's great! And, as you know, not-it is not great.
Now, if you were to open up your skull and look above the dashboard of your brain (your eyes, and, in some rare and unfortunate cases, your feet) you'd see, along with a series of knobs and switches, a gauge that goes blithely from empty to full.
And chances are, if you are like 9 out of 10 people like the rest of of except for that 1 guy -- your meter says empty. That's why you've been so sluggish, why life seems so dull and awful, why you haven't gotten out of that chair in three days, why you and pants have given up on each other.
But what happened? How did our spirits get so low?
Is it war in the Middle East? Shrinking reserves? Privatization?
No, the reason we are all running out of spirits is: increasingly tighter border control.
Yes, increased security on the US/Mexican border has made it very difficult for spirits to be smuggled into America. You just can't get your hands on the stuff anymore. In addition, customs officials and port authorities across the nation are making restrictions stricter, sanctioning more sanctions, and handing out parking tickets like there's no tomorrow, yesterday or today. Basically, getting spirits into the US is like breaking into and then back out of Fort Knox and both taking Fort Knox with you and leaving it there. In other words, it's near on impossible.
Yet, there's something that can be done. We need to stop relying on large companies to deliver our central core "us-ness" and take the market back into our own hands. (Be sure to wear gloves and goggles if you like seeing/feeling.)
You can do this! You don't need to be spiritless any longer. Rather, you deserve to be spirit-maxed.
So listen: grab a shovel, lie down on the ground, and start digging. That's right, shove that steal scoop into your chest and pull it all out. When most of you is scooped away and the shovel hits paydirt -- keep digging.
You are going to construct an elaborate system of tunnels and passages through which you and countless immigrants can run -- carrying chunks of spirit and soul beneath the earth and the authorities.
This is the change you've been waiting for.
Yet, you might soon notice that what we call "spirits" are, on closer inspection, a hell of a lot like clods of dirt, piles of rock, and tufts of grass. The resemblance is uncanny and beautiful you think. But, on even closer inspection, we notice that they are clods of dirt, piles of rock, and tufts of grass.
What? Have we cut holes into the Earth and ourselves to smuggle the earth through itself and back into us? It's like pulling our undershirt off without removing the outer one. It's horrifying and incestuous.Whatever, don't think about it. Your spirits are going up again. It feels great. You feel fantastic. I feel fantastic. We all feel fantastic.
We're running through caverns and tunnels that seem stronger and sturdier every day and we are carrying the earth into each other's bodies and we are gobbling up inlets and islands and archipelagos and subcontinents like ginger snaps and we are wearing them like pants on the other side of our legs, inside, a lining, and we are finally shopping in the only aisle there is, the only aisle we need.
Consumer tip nugget: Look for coupons in this week's daily shopper. Cut them out of his screaming body and save the blood to receive a free gift.
Of course you do! Let's face it, sometimes our spirits get low. "Spirit" is like gasoline: it sits inside of us in a tank where it combusts and burns and makes us move around without even trying. It's great! And, as you know, not-it is not great.
Now, if you were to open up your skull and look above the dashboard of your brain (your eyes, and, in some rare and unfortunate cases, your feet) you'd see, along with a series of knobs and switches, a gauge that goes blithely from empty to full.
And chances are, if you are like 9 out of 10 people like the rest of of except for that 1 guy -- your meter says empty. That's why you've been so sluggish, why life seems so dull and awful, why you haven't gotten out of that chair in three days, why you and pants have given up on each other.
But what happened? How did our spirits get so low?
Is it war in the Middle East? Shrinking reserves? Privatization?
No, the reason we are all running out of spirits is: increasingly tighter border control.
Yes, increased security on the US/Mexican border has made it very difficult for spirits to be smuggled into America. You just can't get your hands on the stuff anymore. In addition, customs officials and port authorities across the nation are making restrictions stricter, sanctioning more sanctions, and handing out parking tickets like there's no tomorrow, yesterday or today. Basically, getting spirits into the US is like breaking into and then back out of Fort Knox and both taking Fort Knox with you and leaving it there. In other words, it's near on impossible.
Yet, there's something that can be done. We need to stop relying on large companies to deliver our central core "us-ness" and take the market back into our own hands. (Be sure to wear gloves and goggles if you like seeing/feeling.)
You can do this! You don't need to be spiritless any longer. Rather, you deserve to be spirit-maxed.
So listen: grab a shovel, lie down on the ground, and start digging. That's right, shove that steal scoop into your chest and pull it all out. When most of you is scooped away and the shovel hits paydirt -- keep digging.
You are going to construct an elaborate system of tunnels and passages through which you and countless immigrants can run -- carrying chunks of spirit and soul beneath the earth and the authorities.
This is the change you've been waiting for.
Yet, you might soon notice that what we call "spirits" are, on closer inspection, a hell of a lot like clods of dirt, piles of rock, and tufts of grass. The resemblance is uncanny and beautiful you think. But, on even closer inspection, we notice that they are clods of dirt, piles of rock, and tufts of grass.
What? Have we cut holes into the Earth and ourselves to smuggle the earth through itself and back into us? It's like pulling our undershirt off without removing the outer one. It's horrifying and incestuous.Whatever, don't think about it. Your spirits are going up again. It feels great. You feel fantastic. I feel fantastic. We all feel fantastic.
We're running through caverns and tunnels that seem stronger and sturdier every day and we are carrying the earth into each other's bodies and we are gobbling up inlets and islands and archipelagos and subcontinents like ginger snaps and we are wearing them like pants on the other side of our legs, inside, a lining, and we are finally shopping in the only aisle there is, the only aisle we need.
Consumer tip nugget: Look for coupons in this week's daily shopper. Cut them out of his screaming body and save the blood to receive a free gift.
Why Milk Might Kill You
It comes in the night, reaches through the window, and grabs you by the ankle. The milk pulls you off somewhere and all that's left is a photograph on the carton.
Like a hunter donning bear claws and shark's teeth, it mocks you by wearing you as a trophy.
No matter how strong your bones, you will cease to exist, you will go missing like the rest.
Like a hunter donning bear claws and shark's teeth, it mocks you by wearing you as a trophy.
No matter how strong your bones, you will cease to exist, you will go missing like the rest.
Buy Something. Out Yourself. On the Inside.
Did the Nintendo Wii waltz into your life and revolutionize everything by making you swing your arms when you thought you couldn't? It's cool, right? Sometimes, you really feel like you're actually doing something for real, maybe even baseball. But you're not! That's the beauty of it.
Now, prepare to be RE-revolutionized.
I know you want to say "Hey, buddy -- I already was re-revolutionized when I bought the Wii2!" but just shutup for a second okay?
Granted, it is true, you did buy it. You had to. We all did, remember? And the Wii2 is a splendid little bugger with which you don't just swing your arms like a real baseball player, but instead really play baseball in a real baseball field. It's great! And all the while, the Wii2 sits in the dugout, making it all happen. That's why it's better than regular baseball -- you don't have to do anything, but still you get things done.
Now, prepare to be RE-revolutionized.
I know you want to say "Hey, buddy -- I already was re-revolutionized when I bought the Wii2!" but just shutup for a second okay?
Granted, it is true, you did buy it. You had to. We all did, remember? And the Wii2 is a splendid little bugger with which you don't just swing your arms like a real baseball player, but instead really play baseball in a real baseball field. It's great! And all the while, the Wii2 sits in the dugout, making it all happen. That's why it's better than regular baseball -- you don't have to do anything, but still you get things done.
Why?
You have plugged the Wii2 into the sun and now you can really simulate "life without simulation" without really simulating it, and the Wii2 watches you do it without truly participating in what's happening itself. It is basically your spirit animal or coach.
But think about it: What is the next logical step after the Wii2? The Wii3? The Wii4, 5, 6, 7? Is that what you really think? That perhaps you'll stand on the sun and swing your arms? Fly through time and swing your arms? Swing the suns while you stand on your arm?
Forget all that and just shutup for a second. It's already been done by the Chuggas.
Rather, we are proud to introduce: The Something.
Prepare to be outed. On the inside.
With the Something, you can now not only play real sports outside, but you can do it all alone. The Something gives you your privacy while you swing your arms like a real baseball player outside. There won't be any game consoles sitting in the dugout leering at you, that's for sure.
And guess what? Despite your strongest intuition, the games don't exist inside or outside the Something Console, the Something Console exists inside the game.
Now, why don't you take a minute to wrap your head around that, okay tough guy?
See, whereas the Wii2 is always in the Dugout, the Something Console is actually the short stop and various other players. You're not allowed to know which, as it may compromise the integrity of the game.
There's only one thing. Even though you get to play outside, you have to do all of it inside.
That's right, you have to bring both the playing field and the outside inside.
Imagine the following situation: your uncle is at the bowling alley -- playing baseball. I need you to imagine this because it is true. Simply by purchasing the Something, you have converted the inside of the bowling alley into an indoor baseball field. The outside is still a bowling alley.
Now imagine this: you drive by the bowling alley, you hook a chain to the bowling alley itself, and then you drive as fast as you can directly through your house. In this way the bowling alley will get perfectly stuck right inside. And since the baseball field is already stuck inside the bowling alley, it will also be stuck inside your home.
Trust me.
Now turn back, and when you open the door to your house, with your Something in front of your face (you have to hold it in front of your face in order for it to work properly), you will only see two things: the Something, and something else.
Congratulations. You just beat the first level.
Since this is the beta version, we only have two levels. But the second one's a good one.
But let's get past all that, because you need to realize something: Not only is the Something played by dragging the outside inside, but by extracting the entire outside-inside outside of the inside.
Yes, there is another outside buried deep inside the insides.
Confused? Good. Listen, it's simple: at one point, a little bit of the outside went inside the inside, making it the outside-inside -- and now you need to get it out!
Furthermore, understand that the Something is also inside of you and always was -- we just made it accessible to the most profitable market niche.
Know that the Something is inside of us all. But you can only play yours.
That is, the only person who can play yours is you. No one else is going to do this for you, no matter how hard they bang on your door demanding to get inside you.
What's more? Inside the Something inside you, you are also there existing inside the Something -- the game console itself. In this game, you are the game. Are you ready to play yourself? It's the ultimate match between good and evil. Sound the foghorns!
Don't just hear my words, listen to them as well: I am telling you that you are inside you and you have to get you out and back inside a certain yourself which is not inside the console or you.
Yes, there are two yous. One inside and one on the outside. Also, there is another one somewhere else -- and that's the you that's listening to me talk right now. You only have three lives to live.
Admit it -- you have always known this.
Let's get back to the game plan. Here's how to get yourself out of the game console forever and back inside yourself outside of the inside of the game Console inside you:
In order to get out of the game console which is you, you have to go inside the game console which is the you inside you.
And the only way to do that is to drive your car into the Something, by yourself. Bring the Something with you. He's a star baseball player and will attract attention and he is the you sitting by your side in your eight cylinder Ferrari.
You will pass a bowling alley. Understand that this is you.
Since there is no one else with you, there is no one else to convince you that everything I have said is not true. I know what you are going to say, about how the Something is a real, live person and he's your friend. Well, I'm sorry to break it to you, but the something is hardly anything at all. It is merely you with you inside it trying to rip you out of itself from you in a speeding Ferrari, where you are, while you do the same thing to it and yourself at the same time inside both of you.
Look, even if you are so close to the Something now that you don't believe you are truly alone, at least understand that the console cannot utilize reason. It is practically a dog (i.e., it has no mind and it is a dog). It has monkey brain.
So, deal with it: you're a bowling alley.
Now, attach the hook to the rear of the bowling alley -- or yourself. As you do this, you will be reminded of lane 8, which used to be on the other side of that wall.
But remember: you turned the bowling alley into an indoor baseball field when you bought yourself, and even though it still looks like a bowling alley outside, from the rear end, at this point, it has become no more than a mirror.
You may notice for the first time that when you look at yourself, you suddenly see only a bowling alley with a baseball field inside. You are reflecting the reflection inside the reflection.
You're a mirror, too, it seems.
Continue to gaze sadly into the mirrors' magical reflective surface and you will eventually see nothing but a big asshole.
Now, you can't hook your car to a mirror, right? No, you can't. So you're going to have to improvise.
Go inside the bowling and say hello to your uncle, who is bowling the best baseball game of his life inside of you, and attach the hook to his asshole. It is more than just a reflection. Don't go too far inside, unless you want to see more baseball.
Now, go outside the baseball field and get inside your car. Drive yourself across town until you get to yourself and propel yourself right through yourself as fast as you can until you get right into the heart of yourself. You will get lodged perfectly inside of yourself. I promise.
Now, get out of your car, turn around, and walk yourself inside of the yourself that is now inside of you. Lock yourself in so you don't get out again.
Later, once you're comfortable, it is possible that another you might come slamming its car into you and try to stuff you up with more yous. Don't let this happen and it shouldn't be a problem.
Remember: Don't do it alone. In fact, do it with a Little Bitty Something in hand, now sold at the Something Online Store , and you will see only two things. Yourself and something else.
Now. Turn yourself on and play with yourself. It'll be the closest thing to real life you have ever known. You have my word.
Daily Inspitational #9: Explaining a Person To The Pain (or: Taking The "I" Out of Pain)
Most people assume their pain is a concrete block at the center of their body which can never be moved but only urged and prodded at - and that's okay. It's what we've been taught by our teachers, parents, and parishioners.
Yet, now it is time to break free from the bonds these quacks have put us in. It is time to realize that your pain is a troubled and orphaned adolescent with an abusive foster family.
Yes, you heard me: all pain is roughly thirteen years old with bruises on its arm -- bruises that it claims are from falling down the stairs or bumping into a door knob.
Not only that, your pain can fly. Did you know that your pain soars out of your body across the sky -- and visits neighborhood children while you sleep? With promises of fun and excitement, and trailing fairy dust, he leads them back inside you -- where the real Neverland really does exist.
Yet, just as you didn't know Neverland really, really existed -- inside you or out -- so also does your pain not know that you exist. In order to get any rest from the constant wrenching in your stomach and lungs -- caused by this little boy's playing and dreaming -- you will have to find him, sit him down, and make him believe you are real.
How To Find Him:
Place some duct tape around your tear ducts and go to sleep. When you wake up in the morning, the little boy will be wriggling on your face, stuck in the glue, and trying to get free.
Sitting Him Down:
Rip the tape and the boy off of your face and place him on the floor. This will be much easier if you had the foresight to use double-sided tape.
Making Him Believe You are Real:
If you went out for work one morning, found yourself caught in an enormous trap and then were plucked from the world you know into a wholly other one by an enormous figure that claimed you weren't real but were actually an ephemeral piece of the whole that manifested itself as emotions in someone else much more real than yourself, what would you need them to say to convince and comfort you?
Take a few minutes to write your answer down and simply repeat these words to the little boy again and again until one of you stops breathing.
Celebrate with a scented oil massage.
Yet, now it is time to break free from the bonds these quacks have put us in. It is time to realize that your pain is a troubled and orphaned adolescent with an abusive foster family.
Yes, you heard me: all pain is roughly thirteen years old with bruises on its arm -- bruises that it claims are from falling down the stairs or bumping into a door knob.
Not only that, your pain can fly. Did you know that your pain soars out of your body across the sky -- and visits neighborhood children while you sleep? With promises of fun and excitement, and trailing fairy dust, he leads them back inside you -- where the real Neverland really does exist.
Yet, just as you didn't know Neverland really, really existed -- inside you or out -- so also does your pain not know that you exist. In order to get any rest from the constant wrenching in your stomach and lungs -- caused by this little boy's playing and dreaming -- you will have to find him, sit him down, and make him believe you are real.
How To Find Him:
Place some duct tape around your tear ducts and go to sleep. When you wake up in the morning, the little boy will be wriggling on your face, stuck in the glue, and trying to get free.
Sitting Him Down:
Rip the tape and the boy off of your face and place him on the floor. This will be much easier if you had the foresight to use double-sided tape.
Making Him Believe You are Real:
If you went out for work one morning, found yourself caught in an enormous trap and then were plucked from the world you know into a wholly other one by an enormous figure that claimed you weren't real but were actually an ephemeral piece of the whole that manifested itself as emotions in someone else much more real than yourself, what would you need them to say to convince and comfort you?
Take a few minutes to write your answer down and simply repeat these words to the little boy again and again until one of you stops breathing.
Celebrate with a scented oil massage.
Why the Amount of Space You Leave Between the Words You Write Might Kill You
I ask you to recall this ancient truism: "The space where the pen doesn't spill its ink is surely mightier than the mightiest sword."
It's true: the amount of white, physical space you leave on the page between the words you write is a high-risk situation that could cost you your life.
Inside those seemingly harmless spaces, which you might have accidentally stretched with your thick pen, lurk a great many murderous creatures, especially porn stars and gorillas that are hungry for blood and armed with bazookas.
Studies show that in some instances porn stars may rise from the holes between your words and slap you in the face with used pornographic video tapes and DVDs made of pure steel and packed with big, bouncing boobies.
It has been reported that sometimes gorillas will then follow, firing missiles right at your bitch-slapped face!
The only way to completely ensure that these beastly horrors -- which hide in the stretched-out, loose holes between your words -- are stopped, is to seal the gaps between your words forever.
To complete this task, you must travel back to the beginning of time and write ceaselessly without spaces until you reach not only the end of time, but the very beginning of time once again.
You must do this and ensure that there are no gaps or holes before, after or between any of the words you have written or your face will be smacked senselessly by ass-pounding and missile-propelling primates.
But remember: the only way to entirely close the sex-death terror-holes between your words, since you don't have a powerful enough reactor to do the job, is to plug them up with dirty bombs.
You must stuff the dripping, often toothed, voids between your words with plutonium dildos.
Do this while throwing glitter, riding unicorns and twirling ferociously until a Mission leader from Alabama -- whose name is Percy -- touches your head and expels the evil spirits from the holes in it.
(Relax: the holes in your head are pretty much identical to the holes between your words; and the evil spirits, which are gorillas and porn stars, have been there since you were born.)
But be warned: if you do not throw enough glitter to make the Mission leader named Percy materialize, both you and everything you have ever written will be completely fucked.
The next day, when the chief of an African tribe questions your presence in the sacred lands where you have magically appeared as a Mission leader from Alabama named Percy, tell him that you wish to spread the spirit of Christ and shed a few pounds while you're at it.
Also, tell him that you promise to never write another word and that you would gladly administer Eucharist to the congregation for a small monthly stipend, so long as it helps you escape from the truly excruciating pain of risking death by porn-star-slap or gorilla-missile when writing words.
It's true: the amount of white, physical space you leave on the page between the words you write is a high-risk situation that could cost you your life.
Inside those seemingly harmless spaces, which you might have accidentally stretched with your thick pen, lurk a great many murderous creatures, especially porn stars and gorillas that are hungry for blood and armed with bazookas.
Studies show that in some instances porn stars may rise from the holes between your words and slap you in the face with used pornographic video tapes and DVDs made of pure steel and packed with big, bouncing boobies.
It has been reported that sometimes gorillas will then follow, firing missiles right at your bitch-slapped face!
The only way to completely ensure that these beastly horrors -- which hide in the stretched-out, loose holes between your words -- are stopped, is to seal the gaps between your words forever.
To complete this task, you must travel back to the beginning of time and write ceaselessly without spaces until you reach not only the end of time, but the very beginning of time once again.
You must do this and ensure that there are no gaps or holes before, after or between any of the words you have written or your face will be smacked senselessly by ass-pounding and missile-propelling primates.
But remember: the only way to entirely close the sex-death terror-holes between your words, since you don't have a powerful enough reactor to do the job, is to plug them up with dirty bombs.
You must stuff the dripping, often toothed, voids between your words with plutonium dildos.
Do this while throwing glitter, riding unicorns and twirling ferociously until a Mission leader from Alabama -- whose name is Percy -- touches your head and expels the evil spirits from the holes in it.
(Relax: the holes in your head are pretty much identical to the holes between your words; and the evil spirits, which are gorillas and porn stars, have been there since you were born.)
But be warned: if you do not throw enough glitter to make the Mission leader named Percy materialize, both you and everything you have ever written will be completely fucked.
The next day, when the chief of an African tribe questions your presence in the sacred lands where you have magically appeared as a Mission leader from Alabama named Percy, tell him that you wish to spread the spirit of Christ and shed a few pounds while you're at it.
Also, tell him that you promise to never write another word and that you would gladly administer Eucharist to the congregation for a small monthly stipend, so long as it helps you escape from the truly excruciating pain of risking death by porn-star-slap or gorilla-missile when writing words.
Why Having Your Baby Live Outside the Womb Might Kill You
Most people don't know this, but the inside of the womb is louder than a vacuum cleaner.
That means that after birth, your baby may become an indiscriminate killing machine, wielding blades of steal and guns of glory, drawing massive amounts of blood from you and your family, laughing wildly as it attempts to recreate the senseless whirring suction noise it used to know.
The silence and serene environment most parents wish to create for their baby is just a festering nothing-space doom-hole in which the baby is condemned to lament it's ancestors sins and ill-doings.
The price of this seemingly innocent mistake? All of your heads.
That's right, your baby will not just gut you and your family like last night's halibut, but will also decapitate all of it's mother's personal heads. That's right, Mom, we're not just talking about the head you have now, but all of the heads you could have had -- based on the true potential of high variability in the course of history and the space-time continuum.
I know what you're going to say: "Look, Mister, planning how to deal with a crisis situation isn’t usually a part of my daily business routine. It'll take years to get the kind of approval I need for that!"
That's OK. While we should plan for the unexpected, it sometimes may be unreasonable -- depending on your schedule for dealing with paperwork, reading the mail, shopping for shoes or organizing your life! But one also must learn to make quick decisions without running them by upper management -- as an adverse situation could kill us at any moment.
There's obviously only one way to keep this atrocity from occurring in your office or home office -- and it's your vacuum cleaner.
When you extract your baby from your loud womb, hand it over to Maria and instruct the Mexican to place the baby inside the dirt chamber of your Dyson, with patented cyclone technology, and watch it spin amidst the dust and noise.
Witness your baby's elation and live fear free. If your baby appears to be upset, don't try to rationalize and get all logical with it. Remember: it's a very small but heartless, ancient killer and it came from your huge body!
If you must communicate with it directly, and have no time to contact HR or transmit your message through another third party, use a manila folder to scoop and fling shit at the vacuum and Maria who is likely using the powerful Dyson to clean the shit you just threw. Slap the Mexican's ass and give your baby the finger.
This is the kind of language your baby will understand as it spins in circles, its face pressed against the vacuum's transparent dirt-chamber window.
That means that after birth, your baby may become an indiscriminate killing machine, wielding blades of steal and guns of glory, drawing massive amounts of blood from you and your family, laughing wildly as it attempts to recreate the senseless whirring suction noise it used to know.
The silence and serene environment most parents wish to create for their baby is just a festering nothing-space doom-hole in which the baby is condemned to lament it's ancestors sins and ill-doings.
The price of this seemingly innocent mistake? All of your heads.
That's right, your baby will not just gut you and your family like last night's halibut, but will also decapitate all of it's mother's personal heads. That's right, Mom, we're not just talking about the head you have now, but all of the heads you could have had -- based on the true potential of high variability in the course of history and the space-time continuum.
I know what you're going to say: "Look, Mister, planning how to deal with a crisis situation isn’t usually a part of my daily business routine. It'll take years to get the kind of approval I need for that!"
That's OK. While we should plan for the unexpected, it sometimes may be unreasonable -- depending on your schedule for dealing with paperwork, reading the mail, shopping for shoes or organizing your life! But one also must learn to make quick decisions without running them by upper management -- as an adverse situation could kill us at any moment.
There's obviously only one way to keep this atrocity from occurring in your office or home office -- and it's your vacuum cleaner.
When you extract your baby from your loud womb, hand it over to Maria and instruct the Mexican to place the baby inside the dirt chamber of your Dyson, with patented cyclone technology, and watch it spin amidst the dust and noise.
Witness your baby's elation and live fear free. If your baby appears to be upset, don't try to rationalize and get all logical with it. Remember: it's a very small but heartless, ancient killer and it came from your huge body!
If you must communicate with it directly, and have no time to contact HR or transmit your message through another third party, use a manila folder to scoop and fling shit at the vacuum and Maria who is likely using the powerful Dyson to clean the shit you just threw. Slap the Mexican's ass and give your baby the finger.
This is the kind of language your baby will understand as it spins in circles, its face pressed against the vacuum's transparent dirt-chamber window.
Why Your Bosses, Co-workers Might Be Killing You
Millions of people are asking themselves, "Why did I just have a heart attack? I'm 37 years old, healthy, married, a forensic psychologist, and named Deborah. It doesn't make sense!"
And millions more people, even those not (yet) named Deborah, are having the same problem.
Everywhere you look, someone is grabbing their chests and falling to the floor. Look there, that man with the newspaper. Is he really reading quietly or is he grabbing his chest and falling to the floor? That woman in the rose bushes -- is she really gardening or is she grabbing her chest and falling to the floor?
The answers to all of these questions, obviously, is no one is doing anything at all right now. You are not reading this, you are having a heart attack. The President of The United States of America is not signing treaties and vetoing bills, he is suffering from a massive coronary. Take a moment and look around you. If you really look, you will see it. And if you don't see it, you aren't really looking.
The question remains, though: Why are we all having heart attacks everyday?
The answer? Because our bosses and coworkers, while out for a smoke break, have found a back door to our bodies and are clogging up the place. Remember that time you went through that door and ended up inside that guy from accounting's jugular?
No, you don't do you?
This is because at work we block out all intimacies -- but our need for them does not dwindle. Though we deny ourselves the knowledge of it, we are all trying to get inside of all of our coworkers, and we are effectively swimming through each other like fat kids in the kiddy pool.
But as unemployment lowers, the number of secret people inside your veins increases at a directly proportional rate! The more people you work with, the more clogged your body gets!
You are having a heart attack all the time and every day because, though you might feel young, comfortable and more or less like a 37 year old Deborah, you are in fact stuffed like a sausage with other people and are ready to burst as if through a thin layer of intestinal wrapping at any moment!
Can this process be stopped? No.
The only way to win this battle is to make everyone else's hearts attack them more than your own does you! But since this is already happening to everyone 100% of the time there is no way to increase the frequency!
However, if you were to make a pact with your coworkers, a Union, you might be able to remove all of your own hearts and stuff them into one hapless victim whom you never liked anyway.
Stand back and watch the loser's body blow apart like 4th of July fireworks as all of you rush through his body simultaneously, a thousand Deborah's killing one for the team.*
*If you are the loser being killed, remember it's for the team -- and no one liked you anyway.
And millions more people, even those not (yet) named Deborah, are having the same problem.
Everywhere you look, someone is grabbing their chests and falling to the floor. Look there, that man with the newspaper. Is he really reading quietly or is he grabbing his chest and falling to the floor? That woman in the rose bushes -- is she really gardening or is she grabbing her chest and falling to the floor?
The answers to all of these questions, obviously, is no one is doing anything at all right now. You are not reading this, you are having a heart attack. The President of The United States of America is not signing treaties and vetoing bills, he is suffering from a massive coronary. Take a moment and look around you. If you really look, you will see it. And if you don't see it, you aren't really looking.
The question remains, though: Why are we all having heart attacks everyday?
The answer? Because our bosses and coworkers, while out for a smoke break, have found a back door to our bodies and are clogging up the place. Remember that time you went through that door and ended up inside that guy from accounting's jugular?
No, you don't do you?
This is because at work we block out all intimacies -- but our need for them does not dwindle. Though we deny ourselves the knowledge of it, we are all trying to get inside of all of our coworkers, and we are effectively swimming through each other like fat kids in the kiddy pool.
But as unemployment lowers, the number of secret people inside your veins increases at a directly proportional rate! The more people you work with, the more clogged your body gets!
You are having a heart attack all the time and every day because, though you might feel young, comfortable and more or less like a 37 year old Deborah, you are in fact stuffed like a sausage with other people and are ready to burst as if through a thin layer of intestinal wrapping at any moment!
Can this process be stopped? No.
The only way to win this battle is to make everyone else's hearts attack them more than your own does you! But since this is already happening to everyone 100% of the time there is no way to increase the frequency!
However, if you were to make a pact with your coworkers, a Union, you might be able to remove all of your own hearts and stuff them into one hapless victim whom you never liked anyway.
Stand back and watch the loser's body blow apart like 4th of July fireworks as all of you rush through his body simultaneously, a thousand Deborah's killing one for the team.*
*If you are the loser being killed, remember it's for the team -- and no one liked you anyway.
Why The Place In Which You Store Highly Explosive Materials Might Kill You
If you're like me, you keep your dynamite, nitroglycerin, C4 bricks, gasoline cans and pressurized containers all in one multi-purpose box. It's simple, ergonomic, and best of all, lets you rest easy at night.
Also, if you're like me, you probably didn't know that this box is not just a great place to store explosives, but is potentially dangerous and perhaps even life threatening.
FACT: Most commonly, the boxes people store their explosives in are made out of wood -- often balsa or oak.
FACT: trees, as a general rule, are intimidated by your innate human mobility. This intimidation leads their respective wood to be unstable, dangerous, and liable to attack.
Why, then, are companies supplying us with wooden boxes to keep our explosives in? Why not plastic or bone or porcelain?
Because the companies themselves are run by trees. Instead of rising to the top of already existing companies, these wooden CEOs simply sprinkled their pollen outward and grew up a fertile company around them.
But, you might ask, what kind of pollen grows companies?
Hate, fear, jealousy, and a variety of now defunct mayonnaise product lines -- all of them have been sown in the soil and are manifest in an assembly line that jettisons boxes to your home.
So, here's the rub: if you have a box at home that you store explosives in -- you might be in grave danger.
But what will happen to us? What can these boxes do to us?
In many cases, the boxes have been known to collapse around people, holding them in one place and shrinking them smaller and smaller until they solely exist on one impossible and dimensionless point in which there is no such thing as movement. In rarer cases, they have been known to explode for reasons unknown.
What can I do to protect me and my family but mostly me?
Stand perfectly still and you will be safe from the trees' jealousy and intimidation. Don't move, blink, breathe, twitch, circulate, digest or metabolize -- don't do anything at all and you will finally be safe.
Also, if you're like me, you probably didn't know that this box is not just a great place to store explosives, but is potentially dangerous and perhaps even life threatening.
FACT: Most commonly, the boxes people store their explosives in are made out of wood -- often balsa or oak.
FACT: trees, as a general rule, are intimidated by your innate human mobility. This intimidation leads their respective wood to be unstable, dangerous, and liable to attack.
Why, then, are companies supplying us with wooden boxes to keep our explosives in? Why not plastic or bone or porcelain?
Because the companies themselves are run by trees. Instead of rising to the top of already existing companies, these wooden CEOs simply sprinkled their pollen outward and grew up a fertile company around them.
But, you might ask, what kind of pollen grows companies?
Hate, fear, jealousy, and a variety of now defunct mayonnaise product lines -- all of them have been sown in the soil and are manifest in an assembly line that jettisons boxes to your home.
So, here's the rub: if you have a box at home that you store explosives in -- you might be in grave danger.
But what will happen to us? What can these boxes do to us?
In many cases, the boxes have been known to collapse around people, holding them in one place and shrinking them smaller and smaller until they solely exist on one impossible and dimensionless point in which there is no such thing as movement. In rarer cases, they have been known to explode for reasons unknown.
What can I do to protect me and my family but mostly me?
Stand perfectly still and you will be safe from the trees' jealousy and intimidation. Don't move, blink, breathe, twitch, circulate, digest or metabolize -- don't do anything at all and you will finally be safe.
The Old Woman in Your House that You Ride Like a Horse Every Day Might Kill You
You might say, "Oh, please! The old woman I keep in my house and ride like a horse is utterly safe -- I've tamed her."
But a new study out of Boston College tells us otherwise. You may have trained that old woman to meet your daily riding whims, but researchers have discovered that she was not produced for that purpose.
The small warning label tucked inconspicuously under her left flank states that the old woman, manufactured at Mattel, is intended for educational purposes only -- not rough riding.
In fact, unlawful riding of the old woman in your house may cause your television to explode, triggering a chain reaction that could kill you, the old woman and most of the unsuspecting village in which you live.
When used properly, the old woman will read to your children and emit a low, metallic humming sound in the back end.
But a new study out of Boston College tells us otherwise. You may have trained that old woman to meet your daily riding whims, but researchers have discovered that she was not produced for that purpose.
The small warning label tucked inconspicuously under her left flank states that the old woman, manufactured at Mattel, is intended for educational purposes only -- not rough riding.
In fact, unlawful riding of the old woman in your house may cause your television to explode, triggering a chain reaction that could kill you, the old woman and most of the unsuspecting village in which you live.
When used properly, the old woman will read to your children and emit a low, metallic humming sound in the back end.
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