my attempt to retell a famous fable

my attempt to retell a famous fable

The Ant and the Grasshopper

In a field one summer's day a Grasshopper was hopping about, chirping and singing to its heart's content. An Ant passed by, bearing along with great toil an ear of corn he was taking to the nest. "Why not come and chat with me," said the Grasshopper, "instead of toiling and moiling in that way?" "I am helping to lay up food for the winter," said the Ant, "and recommend you to do the same." "Why bother about winter?" said the Grasshopper; "we have got plenty of food at present." But the Ant went on its way and continued its toil. As the summer progressed more grasshoppers gathered to hop and chirp together. Soon there were millions. They became a swarm and destroyed everything in their path including the ants.

Moral of the story: Kill the lazy while you still have a chance.

No. Let's try again.

The Ant and the Grasshopper

In a field one summer's day a Grasshopper was hopping about, chirping and singing to its heart's content. An Ant passed by, bearing along with great toil an ear of corn he was taking to the nest. "Why not come and chat with me," said the Grasshopper, "instead of toiling and moiling in that way?" "I am helping to lay up food for the winter," said the Ant, "and recommend you to do the same." "Why bother about winter?" said the Grasshopper; "we have got plenty of food at present." But the Ant went on its way and continued its toil. When the winter came the Grasshopper had no food, and found itself dying of hunger, while it saw the ants distributing every day corn and grain from the stores they had collected in the summer. Then the Grasshopper laid on top of the ant's hill for warmth and died. The Ant found Grasshopper's body the next day and drug him in for food.

Moral of the story: Grasshoppers are an excellent source of protein.

No. That's not it either. We'll try one more time.

The Ant and the Grasshopper

In a field one summer's day a Grasshopper was hopping about, chirping and singing to its heart's content. An Ant passed by, bearing along with great toil an ear of corn he was taking to the nest. "Why not come and chat with me," said the Grasshopper, "instead of toiling and moiling in that way?" "I am helping to lay up food for the winter," said the Ant, "and recommend you to do the same." "Why bother about winter?" said the Grasshopper; "we have got plenty of food at present." But the Ant went on its way and continued its toil. The next day a rain storm flooded the area. Grasshopper lacking any possessions hopped up into a tree for safety. Ant thought the storm would be minor and was reluctant to leave his nest. By the time Ant realized the severity of the storm it was too late to escape and was washed away.

Moral of the story: Don't get weighed down by your possessions.

NO NO NO

All of these versions are stupid and wrong.

What is wrong with me today?

I quit.

excerpt from my essay on alcohol

excerpt from my essay on alcohol

Alcohol is the best legal drug available. It makes ugly people attractive and stupid things seem reasonable. It is a coping mechanism that functions like a leaking rowboat; an incredibly fun leaking rowboat that will carry you far enough out into the dark waters of oblivion to really, truly fuck up your life.

..suffocating..

..suffocating..

endless lightning storms of camera flashes and yells of rude forceful men, many of them would stalk her to the ends of the earth for an opportunity to photograph her death. the best photo would be worth millions

..suffocating in the car as they stood at the ready, waiting for her to exit..

..running..

no matter how fast she ran they could run faster, always stalking, always preying, always on the prowl and ready to pounce

..through the front door, the pap close behind..

just need some quiet. only a moment. the bathroom

..bubble of silence..

the scuffle of feet and shouting outside. They would wait outside the door listening for any sound until she became unfamous. Even past her death, fame being transferable into the post-mortem realm. But at least it was relatively quiet, the bubble of silence like a protective womb. That's how far life had become unreal, a cold, sometimes sterilized bathroom that was used by thousands felt like a comforting womb

..collapsing to the floor..

the wails had to be silent and tearless so that they wouldn't know or hear or see ruined makeup

..self-strangulation..

she cut off the emotion from externalizing but inside was a storm beaten house, long neglected, constantly dark and in disrepair. the winds slammed trees against the side and caused the house to moan. the creaks of the boards and wind sounding like a million voices outside trying to get at her. but the voices weren't real. or were they?

A little girl steps out of the shadows and walks up behind the poor woman lying on the floor and begins petting her wildly tangled hair

"Are you okay? It looked like you were crying. Why were you crying?"

"I'm feeling better now. I was crying because I feel so alone. No one seems to really care about me. Everyone wants to use me."

"I feel sad sometimes but I'm lucky. I have many sisters and we play together. We were left here alone long ago."

"How did you survive?"

"I don't know. We did and that's all I know. Soon we'll be better than ever."

"What do you mea..."

The little girl's hands stiffened and grabbed the woman around the throat. Her claws sank into the woman's throat and ruby droplets ran over the dirty jagged talons.

WHY DID YOU LEAVE US HERE ALONE

YOU NEVER BROUGHT US FOOD

SO NOW WE WILL EAT YOU

The girl continued screaming wildly and choking the woman even after she was dead. There had been little struggle. The woman had barely fought back and now she was sprawled upon the floor, red gushing out then slowing where the little girl's nails had punctured an artery in the woman's neck.

More little girls began creeping out of the shadows and they began sucking blood out of the hole and then licking the floor. Then they ate the fingers and toes and arms and abdomen and everything else. They found a precious little baby inside, it was delicious and tender.

The skeletons were wrapped in a filthy blanket and thrown into a closet.

Laying on the floor with fattened bellies they giggled and moaned in agony.

"What should we do now?"

"Lets go out and play."

"But how? Only one can be in control at a time."

"We'll take turns."

"I want to go first.", said one with a cute British accent.

"Yes. Her first and then we'll switch."

..standing up..
..washing hands..
..impish smile..

"This will be the most fun ever."

Parable of the Sheep

Parable of the Sheep

Once there was a flock of sheep with a very nice shepherd. He was tall, strong, caring and understanding. He would run and rescue the fallen and would always know where to find the best grass.

Then one night while standing next to his little fire he fell over dead. The sheep thought he was asleep because sheep are stupid and think that sleep and dying are the same thing. After a few days they began to run out of grass and the shepherd was beginning to stink. They were slowly realizing something was very wrong. One sheep became hungry and decided to leave. Her friends were very hungry as well and decided to follow. Soon the rest of the flock realized they were hungry as well and followed the one who had made any sort of decision at all.

5 days later all of the sheep were starving. The first little sheep had no idea where she was going and had led everyone into a desert. A group of her friends were so angry that they kicked her to death for betraying their misguided trust. It was far easier to blame the one little sheep for accidentally leading than all of themselves for blindly following. Later that evening the friends discovered raw mutton is delicious when one is starving. They also decided it would be a good idea to make a solemn pact with each other never to discuss the "Mutton Incident".

The group that had originally killed their friend branded themselves "The Just" ones. Sheep are stupid and will believe anything that a group of popular and respected sheep say and quickly followed their direction. The Just decided to send out 6 sheep in 6 different directions to find grass. The first one that came back would be hailed a hero and they would follow the hero's path. If the others came back they would be out of luck and it would be their fault that they got left behind, they should have tried harder.

3 days later the hero returned and the group followed his lead. They journeyed over rocks and between mountains (sheep began disappearing mysteriously in the middle of the night and just as mysteriously the Just stayed robust looking while all the other sheep began looking more and more pathetic) and eventually ran into a rushing stream that looked like a raging river to their fear-soaked minds. Fortunately there was a path of rocks across the water that would lead them to a pasture of delicious green grass on the other side and the sheep became very excited.

As they were crossing a large splash was heard. One of the more stupid and useless members of the flock had fallen in and was being carried away by the current. A second splash was heard and they saw what appeared to be a wolf rescuing that poor clumsy sheep.

It was in fact a wolf. The wolf's name was Maurice. He was big, strong and spoke confidently with great care in his voice. Everyone loved him more than they had loved the shepherd (whose name was Bob, a very boring and unlikable name). The Just were of course just stupid sheep like themselves who hadn't even tried to rescue the sheep that had fallen in and it made no sense to follow them when they had Maurice as a leader.

Maurice knew where all of the best grass was and the flock grew healthy again. One day he told them he knew a really great place to get a nearly inexhaustible supply of grass because it was at the top of the tallest mountain and no other animals went there.

The sheep trusted Maurice and they began climbing. The way was harsh but the grass would be worth it. After a week of climbing they arrived. It was a paradise. Water fell from a glacier above and misted their valley while the high cliffs sheltered it from the wind and the area was easily defended. The pure mountain grass was sweet and delicious and everyone was happy for like 5 days. Then they got bored. There was nothing to fear. So Maurice pushed one of the ungrateful little bastards off a nearby cliff. And then they were scared to speak up too loudly and all was well again with the flock.

The moral of the story: Parables are really just long manipulative lies that are intentionally indirect so that they aren't subject to strict scrutiny but the themes mirror the emotions of the listener and can have a huge impact.

Srsly, sheep can't fucking talk and a wolf named Maurice? That's probably the stupidest thing ever written.

final notice

final notice

Dear Universe 4A-179-BB,

This letter is in regards to your existence.

First of all I'm sorry.

When I created you I was young and very alone. I had a lot of free time to watch and pay attention to the happenings of your worlds. You were my first truly successful universe. I was incredibly lucky to get 17 planets capable of sustaining semi-intelligent life. Even though it was almost completely by accident yours was a very fortuitous explosion. Not one of my friends has ever gotten half as many live-able planets.

I enjoyed observing the growth of your civilizations. Keeping records of planetary progress and retarding some planets while advancing others amused me for ages. You were what kept me alive, I can't describe how watching you struggle against the grimmest odds to eek out a meager existence gave me hope in my darkest hours.

Unfortunately my creation wasn't perfect and I grew impatient at times trying to fix the problems. Humans, who I truly did make in my own image, were the worst for me. I gave them everything, including my own race's problems: the capacity for infinite cruelty and a limited capacity for happiness. The illusion of empathy cursed them to be miserable no matter how hard they tried to avoid it. I was pleased when they discovered the art of stillness, to stop moving forward meant that they weren't subject to the same levels of suffering as those who felt they must progress constantly. Their struggles were mostly pointless because of the falling back they had to continuously endure as they aged.

Sadly most of them never discovered the benefits of stillness and continued trying to move forward. I suffer the same fate, even though I truly envy that particular quality in my elders.

Once your universe was in motion, to fix it would have probably cause its destruction. The few times that I directly meddled with a planet's physical aspects caused drastic results, generally killing almost all life upon it. I must shamefully admit that usually when I tweaked your planets it was due to anger and frustration, often a clumsy and indirect attempt to deal with my own problems. I was quite immature then and it pains me to think of the suffering I caused. In spite of my often insane actions, rumors quickly spread that I am all-knowing, all-powerful and many other ridiculous things that I never claimed to be. Some of the humans even believed that I sent my son to them, which is even more ridiculous as I've never had any children and never will. You are small and pitiful creatures who could not possibly understand the complexity of what contains your universe but assuming that I'm all-anything is stupid. I have limits just like everyone else and those limits are beyond anything you can possibly comprehend without relying on wildly abstract concepts.

Other universes followed yours, better balanced and more expertly created but those were never special to me. They were only projects to pass the time. Then a major event happened, it's why I let the universes fall into neglect and slowly forgot to provide any further guidance or care.

One day I met a wonderful girl and we fell deeply in love. After we were together for the required amount of time by law, we promised ourselves to each other eternally. As a symbol of my trust I gave her my most precious creation and implanted you into a tiny freckle on the tip of her slightly curved nose which perfectly accented the most beautiful face I'll ever see. Every time I looked at her I saw you and when I thought of you I couldn't help but think of her.

But now she has betrayed that trust.

A few moments ago I beat them to death with my bare hands and smashed their skulls and genitals with a boulder. Even now the pyre is burning that will consume the 3 of us and all of you as well.

My only remorse in regards to you is that I wish I had made your universe more beautiful, more wonderful and more perfect. If I had been more competent, infinite amounts of pain could have been spared to countless trillions.

I wish you the best in your next big bang.

With kindest regards,
god

the international language

the international language

some people say that love is the international language

those some people are guys that are trying to screw a girl from another country

the real international language is violence

few things speak louder than a hatchet to the face

a slightly violent story for my liberal hippy friends

a slightly violent story for my liberal hippy friends

Today we hung all of the traitors that we could catch. A few were shot as they ran away. The rest are in hiding or have escaped.

They were killed for their selfish recklessness that bankrupted our nation. They were killed because our families will starve in the spring. Most likely our nation's food will run out before winter is over and most countries refuse to help us. The elderly and sick will be thinned out by the cold. We're already having trouble keeping fossil fuelled implements running and the alternative sources of power aren't sufficiently developed or available to meet even our most basic needs.

We shot the traitors for their greed. Some of us will eat the traitors for sustenance through the harsh times ahead.

Because of those traitors we're dependent on fossil fuels, switching to solar power would have destroyed their carefully constructed menagerie and they spent millions to continue a deadly deception. Because of their incessant wars that were expected to help our economy flourish the world came together and slaughtered our military. The world now refuses to assist us fearing that our power-hungry nature will rebuild a deadly arsenal and attempt to hold the world hostage again. It's rumored that Canada and Mexico are fighting battles with the tidal wave of Americans attempting to force their way across borders. Because of the traitors' investments in other nations' corporations and currencies, our own fiat US Dollar that was designed to benefit a few, is completely worthless and now used as kindling or toilet paper around the world.

The traitors' deaths were justified. They're allegiance to money was far stronger than the allegiance to their nation and fellow citizens. Patriotism was a tool for them. A flag to wave when it benefited them, their true flag was wealth and they were willing to let others die for their cause. Unfortunately for them death firmly revokes any status as multi-nationals.

The masses are specialized to a debunked system. The chaos that reigns is due to an order that has shifted. Intelligent people don't possess even the most basic knowledge of survival and are nearly useless. I sent a woman with a PHD in foreign languages out to collect berries tonight. Even with my detailed instructions most of what she brought back was poisonous and I had no choice but to throw hours of her dedicated work away.

Tonight those traitors died.

Tomorrow the rest of us may figure out how to live.

moments of childhood boredom revealed

moments of childhood boredom revealed
Saturday, June 23, 2007

When I was growing up, long June summer evenings were the worst of the year.

I remember lying in bed and listening to all the other kids play, the light of dusk streaming into my window, penetrating my eyelids and making every last moment that the sun was up hell.

My parents acting with cruel responsibility had given me an 8 pm curfew. During June when the sun doesn't go down until 10 pm it was brutal. I was stuck trying to sleep and not getting there fast for 2 hours.

After the treacherous ordeal my parents would often turn on the television. They loved watching stand-up comedians (or at least my dad did. My mom probably watched along with him so they could have time together).

I developed a love for stand-up comedy quickly and would often sneak down my hall towards the living room, trying to get as close as possible without being seen. They always caught me because they heard me laughing. Then they'd send me to my awful hellish prison of a room to powerlessly await the mercy of sleep.

Tonight I stood by the pool on lifeguard duty reminiscing about those awful hours of sleeplessness and watching the sun sink slowly below the horizon creating beautiful twilight. A baseball broadcast was on the radio, kids were in the pool especially late and parents were enjoying themselves while playing suburban adult games like "Who wants to move to the nicer more upscale neighborhood?"

It was a great ending to a pretty good day. Who could ask for more?

Indication that there might be a problem

Indication that there might be a problem
Sunday, June 17, 2007

Something has gone horribly wrong with your society when starving children are cliche.

It's one thing to become saddened that you can't save them and do nothing.

It's another to not even think they matter.

The first means your apathetic.

The second signals that you're not actually human but instead an unthinking robot made of flesh.

A part of the problem is the overwrought sentimentality of the commercials begging you to send money to help feed starving children. it hides the actual emotions under a blanket of crappy manipulation.

The suffering of others isn't a proper outlet to relieve guilt. That makes them inhuman to the giver. A bottomless money hole which the un-selfless giver will more than likely resent in the near future.

Technology may hold solutions. But it won't matter if we can't figure out how to actually care for those who need it. Look at AIDS medication. We have the ability to help but the holders of the technology don't care enough to help by lowering the medications down to approximately what it costs the drug makers to produce it.

As if they were ever going to profit from a Somalian that makes 3 dollars a week.

practicing compassion

practicing compassion
Sunday, June 17, 2007

Compassion in action is trickier than it sounds.

Sometimes people need help and other times it's better to allow the person to work through an issue and become more independent.

I figure compassionate action is best compared to reacting to a choking victim.

If they can still cough let 'em be. Perhaps provide them some moral support.

If they stop coughing and breathing than go ahead and administer the heimlech maneuver. If you do it correctly you'll break a couple of their ribs but save their life.

Act compassionately too soon and perhaps you're causing more damage than if you hadn't helped at all.

cognitively dissonant racists

cognitively dissonant racists
Friday, June 15, 2007

Call it "white guilt" if you must but it's not uncommon for white people to believe that they aren't racists because they know it's bad while their subconscious remains racist.

One can't just logic one's gut feelings and intuition away, pretending that they don't exist or influence perceptions.

These people will have very rigid conversations with other racial groups using fake kindness in their voice. Being absolutely polite, trying not to step on the others toes and more than likely making embarrassing verbal slips like "You people".

What happened?

They didn't fully embrace the parts of their character that are racist, creating a schism of self.

The only method I know of overcoming it is to acknowledge those racist parts of one's own personality, becoming more aware and listening for the prejudice in one's own words and thoughts.

Only by working through the issue rather than ignoring it can progress be made.

But trying to believe it away is just foolish.

personal fuck up that I don't want to forget ever

personal fuck up that I don't want to forget ever
Tuesday, May 29, 2007

financial troubles.. I've had a few. But I've been able to recover so far.

there are the obvious and boring lessons, like: make a budget and live by it or don't spend money you don't have. We're journeying beyond that.

I'm talking about consequences for fucking up.

The lesson that is particularly on my mind:

Once you have at least 2 overdue debts at the same time and no way to pay them simultaneously life begins to grow bleak and hopeless. The companies are quick to begin adding surcharges and late fees. It's easy to forget how broke you are and try to pay a bill thinking you have enough money. But you don't and the bank then charges overdraft fees.

You're then forced to choose between the latest or the most important bill.

The problems generate from all over and when you think of your problems it feels like a noose tightening around your neck. Anxiety rules the day but ofcourse theres no treatment like psychotherapy because that would cost money you already don't have.

Debt maintenance is important. Multiple debts make it hard to pay the debts off early and avoid heavy finance charges, multiple mishandled debts make it impossible.

The other major thing that sits in my mind is that more money never fixes budgeting issues.

My last roommate in the army and I were payed the same ammount of money. Jack lived within his budget and had some nice things but generally it was a spartan lifestyle and claimed to have $10,000 in the bank.

I spent my money randomly on all sorts of unnecessary things like meals out, books, coffee, alcohol, it was extravagant but affordable until I got my $26,000 car. That's when it all fell apart. There are many details in the story but basically the added expenses of my car destroyed the robustness of my finances.

If money were gas than Jack ran his finances like a well tuned internal combustion engine. The money flowing regularly and each drop made to count.

My finances were more like a bonfire, I just threw money at it with little thought. When I ran out of money I waited for more then started the process over. No matter how much money I could have made it never would have been enough.

I'm still recovering but I'm glad I've learned the lesson now. The majority of americans are now in debt. I'm not sure how people with children recover.

Money problems may end up being a malignant cancer to our society and sink us into a feudal state of existence. All is not lost for us yet. But the US's nine trillion dollar debt doesn't leave me optimistic.

Frank Abagnale Jr: A personal hero

Frank Abagnale Jr: A personal hero
Tuesday, May 29, 2007

Frank Abagnale Jr. is a semi-well known figure in modern society. His memoirs were published and made into a movie called "Catch Me if You Can".

He began adulthood as a check forger/con artist and was very successful, temporarily. Eventually he was caught, served time in a hideous French prison then brought to the United States where he served more time in prison.

While his stories are interesting, fun and show him in a somewhat un-reprehensible light, what amazes me about him is the way in which he recovered. Lesser men would fallen into a life of crime or poverty as one's credibility is destroyed as a known thief and con man. Who would want to hire someone they can't trust?

Frank however learned to work with the system (I tend to think he learned the art of a legal con job). He began working with the FBI to help stop check forgery and is now considered an expert on identity theft.

What amazes me about him and why I have long thought of him as a hero is that he effectively recovered from a life changing fuck up. To me the art of recovery is far more important than attempting perfection by living up to the expectations of others. No one's perfect their entire life and if someone were they they'd probably be the most boring person alive.

book theme for this summer: guy-lit

book theme for this summer: guy-lit

With a new novel by Palahniuk published earlier this month, I've decided to make it a summer of guy literature (Palahniuk wrote Fight Club, Fight Club is the ultimate in guy reading, "Rant", Palahniuk's new novel is similar to Fight Club, hope this ridiculously contrived sentence explains my thought process behind the theme for this summer).

While I'm interested in diving into Hemingway and Cormac McCarthy, I elected to start the summer off with lighter selections: "Women" by Charles Bukowski and "I Hope They Serve Beer in Hell" by Tucker Max.

Mr Bukowski (died 1994) while critically un-acclaimed has had a massive influence on the culture of smart people. He was a dirty old man who lived in a dirty old apartment, who drank and fucked a lot.

Mr Max is an up and coming blogger who got published in 2006. Like Bukowski he drinks and fucks a lot (but that's where the similarities end). His book is made up of autobiographical stories taken directly from his website. The early writings are clumsy and he reintroduces the same characters over and over which takes away from his funny writing and excellent stories.

I've thoroughly enjoyed both books except for one thing. The overwhelming amounts of sex. I've read at least a hundred almost identical sex scenes between the 2 of them in the past week. It's so boring. Their tales of sex are very similar.

1. Meet random girl, she was pretty/ugly/had a nice set of tits/is a landbeast/etc

2. I/We got drunk

3. We had sex

I'm hoping that my other choices this summer either don't mention the subject or more interestingly/insightfully describe sex. Seriously I'm starting to miss William S. Bourroughs disturbing gay prostitution weirdness, at least he knew how to change the storyline up a bit.

I've done the random girl story line in real life, it's boring and I'm pretty tired of reading it repetitively.

If anyone out there has any suggestions for guy reading please let me know. I'll must warn you, suggest Tom Clancy or other similar tripe (Rainbow Six was good but if you've read one...) there's a good possibility that next time we meet you'll get kicked in the balls/ovaries.

Anyway, happy summer reading my friends!

alcohol wisdom

alcohol wisdom

Thursday, May 10, 2007

1. You can drink, you can drive, but not both. Ever.

2. Blackouts aren't healthy.

Blackouts are a sign that you can't control you're intake or don't have the inclination. I had to be told that after serious life issues by an alcohol counselor. I wasn't informed growing up because my parents hated alcohol and it wasn't discussed adequately. Most of the Mormons I served in the Army with had to learn this lesson the hard way as well.

3A. The things we do and say while we're drunk are a part of who we are, a part of our character.
If you can only say something to someone while you're drunk perhaps thats the time to say it if you absolutely must. Don't expect good results. Actions while drunk however are a mistake. Drunk actions are disasters waiting to happen.

3B. Alcohol isn't an excuse, it's only an explanation at best.

There are consequences for what we do whether drunk or not. One has to live with the results afterwards, whether that's a pregnancy, killing a family from drunk driving, a broken relationship or just a really nasty hangover.

I seriously doubt that anyone without much experience will take this advice seriously or follow it. Besides there are a lot of necessary mistakes we must make, a perfect life(whatever that means) would be really boring.

Those who have already made mistakes will probably find this advice basic and laughably simple.

thanks for the memories my soon to be dead ancestor!

thanks for the memories my soon to be dead ancestor!
Friday, April 27, 2007

I went to help my mother with my great aunt's estate last weekend.

My great aunt is at the edge of life and death and has elected to stay in a quite expensive nursing facility until the end.

To help fund her new lifestyle we must sell most of her belongings, thus I was told I needed to go to her house and see if there was anything I wanted.

Which is why I now have 3 great new hats. There wasn't anything else of interest as she loved furniture and random lamps that I've never liked enough to covet.

What I realized is that the house is linked to many great memories.

All I really wanted was to sit in the amazing sun room and drink a coke.

That's all I wanted from the house and I couldn't have it (there weren't any cokes). In the old days they'd buy cokes when they knew I was coming to visit and they'd smile and laugh at all of my silly childish jokes.

The cruelty of life isn't death, it's that we have to get old.

spring is the finest time of year to eat ice cream publicly

spring is the finest time of year to eat ice cream publicly
Sunday, April 22, 2007

Warm weather in Georgia and ice cream are delicious together.

Ice cream: vibrant and yummy, tasting as if we evolved with it. Ice cream fills a spot in my longings that only it can.

And as much as I love chocolate chip cookie dough (regular, not the type with too much dough that disturbs the flavor balance and leaves one queasy on hot summer days) there's a group who loves it more.

Dieters.

Poor Bastards.

Just as ice cream enters into it's place in the seasonal cravings many people are getting ready for the hedonistic pleasures of summer wear. Ice cream is always off the list for them as there are far too many delicious ingredients that they can't even smell lest they gain weight in all of the wrong places: chocolate, sugar, fat, etc.

I can see the awe and horror in their faces as I pass by, goodness flowing from cone to me in sloppy french dairy kisses.

Their willpower collapsing. It's only a matter of time before they stumble into a Ben and Jerry's giving into the tempting mouth orgy of delicious ice cream.

Summer will be here soon and their acceptance of failure will take away the sadistic pleasures of public torture.

Blogging Palahniuk Style (don't take this seriously, it was a self-imposed writing exercise)

Blogging Palahniuk Style
(don't take this seriously, it was a self-imposed writing exercise)
Sunday, October 22, 2006

This is going to suck, I don't know why you're even reading this.

If you've never read Chuck Palahniuk, then you have no idea what this is about. If you have read, even a little bit of Chuck's work, then you know exactly how much this sucks.

I'm a stupid little shit with stupid little shit ideas. Nothing I'm going to say here matters. Nothing I say, ever really matters.

You might as well leave now. Go find something else to do. Watch youtube, chat on stickam, masturbate. Go finish that novel, by that author, whose name you can never remember. Start a new project, so that when you're old, you can pretend there was a more productive and interesting time in your life.

Do anything but read this stupid little blog, with it's stupid little words. There are millions of other people far more pretty with far more interesting things to say. Go find them.

I don't know the exact words to describe this blog... but pathetic comes to mind.

When I die people will pretend to be sad at my funeral, saying nice things to my parents.

And then everyone will gladly forget that I ever even existed.

There is no point to reading any more postings from me, of course there's no point to life in the first place. Maybe that's why peoples faces light up as they die. They finally realize and understand the truth....

There is no point to life, there never was.

The only meaning of life, is the meaning that you give to it.