Wednesday, April 19, 2006
Finals are here, which means I am hating life right about now. This feeling will most likely go away about 1 week after my last final. Even though I realize this feeling is only temporary, I sometimes forget that I don't always hate life. If I always hated life, (and apparently some people really do hate everything about life) I think I would stop interacting with society as a normal human. For instance, I think I would bump into people on sidewalks, pee on myself in public, and steal things from people. Obviously, people would object to this behavior and probably say things like: "Hey, watch out, buddy!"; "You're disgusting!"; and "Get back here, asshole!" I think I would adopt the following reply to any criticism I might receive: "I do what I want!" And I would shout this at people even before they criticized me if I felt they might criticize me in the future (kind of a preemptive strike). I think I would also run everywhere and probably wear a cape of some kind. So, in a way, I think I'd become The Saint, which means that I kind of wish that I hated life all the time. By the way, when I say that adopting this manner of living would transform me into The Saint, I mean that I would become the European Don Juan Saint, as opposed to the dorky cold fusion scientist Saint. Because if you wear a cape and run everywhere, you probably don't have any trouble bedding the females. At the risk of getting off track a little bit, I should mention that I would also drink wine and cry a lot--because I would be so emotional and would feel bad about the hearts I had broken along the way. The only bad thing about becoming The Saint would be all of the chest hair (and probably the hands-free kit that I would be required to purchase and use in airports and while driving). I would also file my teeth into sharp points and bite people.
Tuesday, April 18, 2006
mmm...placenta
Tom Cruise and Katie Holmes have given birth to a baby humanoid. Apparently, Tom is going to eat the baby in a symbolic ritual of some sort. Then, he plans to set himself and Katie on fire in a variation on the classic Viking funeral. After this has taken place, William Shatner will fly over the carnage in the Millennium Falcon and defacate over the couples' spirit flames, as they exit their flesh prisons, through the aircraft's poop lounge deluxe. Following this, Andre the Giant and a unicorn with a human face will eat Shatner and the Millennium Falcon to prove that up is down and down is up. Finally, a starburst will envelope the universe, and everyone will be transformed into naked babies--the naked babies we used to be.
Practicin' Law - Tejas Style
If practicing law is a dream, I don't ever want to wake up...you fat sonofabitch.
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=e12sqYYLJxA
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=e12sqYYLJxA
Monday, April 17, 2006
ferocious yak [some words - to be read like a rap with a bassline that makes your hair bleed]
me and my cohorts
frequent state supreme courts
with missions to abort
and rare plants to snort
can't fathom tall tales
'cause my mind is short
but the cyclops watches
over one-eyed ports
so hit me one time please
with your harmful face
i go tow to tow
in the tugboat race
gary busey's fat mouth
sprays fumes like mace
while he's breaking every branch
on his fall from grace
frequent state supreme courts
with missions to abort
and rare plants to snort
can't fathom tall tales
'cause my mind is short
but the cyclops watches
over one-eyed ports
so hit me one time please
with your harmful face
i go tow to tow
in the tugboat race
gary busey's fat mouth
sprays fumes like mace
while he's breaking every branch
on his fall from grace
Thursday, April 13, 2006
Dinner with Dude
Dude: do you play fantasy baseball
Me: No. (wipe that shit-eating grin off your face)
Dude: i drafted the steroid monger
Me: oh really? (i hate both him and you)
Dude: He's not doing so well this year.
Me: I don't keep up with baseball much. (stop smiling. you're creeping me out with your big face and calves)
Dude: Bonds was a steal at the 102nd pick.
Me: Yeah. Probably so. (what smells like radishes and puke?)
Dude: I hope he can produce.
Me: I'm gonna go smash my face against something hard.
Dude: Alright, see ya later! [still smiling]
Me: No. (wipe that shit-eating grin off your face)
Dude: i drafted the steroid monger
Me: oh really? (i hate both him and you)
Dude: He's not doing so well this year.
Me: I don't keep up with baseball much. (stop smiling. you're creeping me out with your big face and calves)
Dude: Bonds was a steal at the 102nd pick.
Me: Yeah. Probably so. (what smells like radishes and puke?)
Dude: I hope he can produce.
Me: I'm gonna go smash my face against something hard.
Dude: Alright, see ya later! [still smiling]
Sunday, April 09, 2006
MISSING
This is my dogman. He answers to Bathtub Gin and Julius Caesar, sometimes. (Not "Julius Caesar Somtimes" but rather he answers to the name "Julius Caesar" at times when you call out his dogman moniker - hope that clears things up.) Distinguishing features include little brown spots on the tops of his inner legs. He also drinks his own dogman piss, and cusses like a sailor. His little dogman ass smells like granite and mustard - but don't laugh at him for it, he's very self-conscious in a way that makes me think he's a little gay. Other distinguishing features include a manface on a body that is otherwise very doglike. Anyone gracious enough to return my precious dogman will be spared from a punching in the face by my raging fists of bicycle hatred and machine noises. Thank you in advance for your aid in the rescue. May blessings be reigned down upon you like so many naked women and bliss.
Potato Salad,
Leonard "Nemoy" Peltier