2008-12-07 20:45:27 ET
Aristotle: Teacher, if one is committing the act of pig fucking is one then, by logical conclusion, porking a pig?
Plato: Nay, Aristotle, for pork is but a name reserved for the inanimate flesh of a pig animal. Thus you are only porking a pig if the pig is quite dead.
Aristotle: So one would have to kill a pig and then fuck it in order to pork it?
Plato: Quite true, pig fucker.
2008-12-07 20:45:00 ET
[16:41] Me: So um... what are you wearing?
[16:42] Ilya: socks and underwear
[16:42] Ilya: black socks
[16:42] Ilya: wool
[16:42] Ilya: knee-high
[16:42] Ilya: why do you ask?
[16:43] Me: I don't know. Just seemed like the thing to do, you know?
[16:43] Ilya: do you regret it?
[16:43] Me: I think that's how all human interaction should start.
[16:44] Me: Not with a "hi" but with a "So... what are you wearing?"
[16:44] Me: Not at all. At least my substitute greeting results in actual information as opposed to usual routine.
[16:44] Me: And, with this, you can find out which one of your co-workers (be they male or female) is wearing lingerie.
[16:44] Me: So that's a benefit right there.
[16:45] Me: I am a genius.
[16:45] Ilya: speaking of awesome things... I have to help moderate a children's focus group tonight
[16:46] Me: Focus group?
[16:46] Ilya: yeah
[16:46] Me: Elaborate por favor.
[16:46] Ilya: do you know what a focus group is?
[16:46] Me: It's a group of people who drive Fords?
[16:47] Ilya: if a company wants to know how their customers will react to a product, or if they want feedback from the public, they bring in about a dozen people, have them test out the product, and then talk to them and see what they like, don't like, and how they would improve the product
[16:47] Ilya: that's called a focus group
[16:48] Ilya: it's actually very lucrative to be a focus group participant... you get free pizza, sometimes free gifts, and you get paid about $100 for 90 minutes of talking... and you can attend more than one per week
[16:48] Ilya: we use a company called Research Now for recruitment, they're based in NY if you want to sign up
[16:48] Ilya: www.researchnow.com (I think)
[16:48] Me: $100 for 90 minutes of talking? That reminds me. I have to work on a standup routine. I figure that's the way to make a lot of money. Look at Jay Leno. Or Jesus. FUNNY GUYS! Well... may be just JC.
[16:49] Me: With him it's wino jokes all the time.
[16:49] Me: "I knew a guy who was so drunk...."
[16:49] Me: "How drunk was he, Jesus?"
[16:49] Me: "He was pretty fucking drunk."
[16:49] Me: *rimshot*
[16:50] Ilya: you should look up Rowan Atkinson's bit about Jesus being a magician on YouTube (though I think some religious assholes edited it down to make it seem like he was giving praises to Jesus instead of kind of mocking religion)
[16:50] Ilya: anyway
[16:50] Ilya: I started saying something about the focus group
[16:50] Ilya: yeah, so it's for children aged 9-12 today... we had another group last night
[16:50] Ilya: it's this Sims-like game
[16:50] Me: Ah yes, I saw that bit. It was snazzy.
[16:50] Ilya: but there's a problem...
[16:51] Me: The sex?
[16:51] Ilya: we didn't discover this until the kids brought it to our attention last night
[16:51] Ilya: see, there's a song in the game
[16:51] Ilya: and it's a game for the DS, so you use the stylus to tap the screen to the beat kind of like guitar hero
[16:51] Ilya: but the song... umm
[16:51] Me: Is it Soulja Boy? OH MAH GAWD I LOVE THAT SONG!!1
[16:51] Ilya: "It has bad words" the kids said, embarassed
[16:51] Me: It's What What isn't it?
[16:51] Me: I said What what in the butt
[16:51] Ilya: "What bad words could it be," we thought...
[16:52] Ilya: so after the group we listened to the song
[16:52] Me: Is it Rape Me?
[16:52] Me: Is it that I wanna fuck you in the ass song?
[16:52] Ilya: the song goes something like, "La la la, la la la, MOTHER FUCKER!"
[16:52] Me: How is that a bad word?
[16:52] Me: In some countries that's how they say "Dad".
[16:52] Me: "This is my mom. And this... this is my motherfucker."
[16:53] Ilya: our manager, who's actually kind of, umm, the biggest fucking douchebag I've ever met in my entire life... he starts freaking out that he's gonna get sued
[16:53] Me: In that case though that would be a "Stepdad".
[16:53] Me: I don't know. I've seen some pretty big douchebags. But then again, I hang out in hospital wards until I get kicked out.
[16:53] Ilya: he tops them all
[16:53] Ilya: seriously, I can't stand this guy
[16:54] Ilya: my co-worker just quit the job last week because he couldn't stand this asshole
[16:54] Ilya: and HE was kind of a dick also, so that says something
[16:54] Me: Your coworker should move to another country, become a diplomat, come back, stab your manager in the eye with a pencil, and claim diplomatic immunity.
[16:55] Me: Yeah, most diplomats are dicks.
[16:55] Me: "Diplo" is Ye Olde Latin for "Dick".
[16:55] Me: Hence "Diplosaurus". The dinosaur with the biggest dick.
[16:55] Ilya: I think the Thesaurus is my favorite... he was the smartest dinosaur, you know
[16:55] Me: So, translated directly, that would be "Dick Lizard"
[16:55] Me: .
[16:56] Ilya: oh, seriously go sign up for focus groups
[16:56] Ilya: you can do it after work
[16:56] Me: Hmm I might do it late next week then.
[16:57] Ilya: you're white and in your twenties, that makes you more desired than some other people
[16:57] Ilya: minorities don't get much work
[16:57] Ilya: and typically 18-34 is the best age range
[16:58] Me: It's the same with adoption agencies. Remember my E-Baby idea? It's like an Ebay for Eastern European Caucasian babies.
[16:58] Me: There's big money in it. Only reason I didn't go through with it is I couldn't find a supplier of cardboard boxes that would punch in airholes for me.
[16:59] Me: Something about "legal liabilities". I told him I don't speak Latin. Except for "Diplosaurus".
[16:59] Ilya: aaaaand scene :-P
2008-12-07 20:44:27 ET
We'd sit on the curb and write our names in the pavement with a bottle of lighter fluid and set it alight and watch the earth burn. That would be at twilight. We'd hear all the night noises. Crickets and frogs in the grass across the road. Lit gray moon illuminating our flash of flame. Sometimes we'd lay back and watch the sky and pray for shooting stars to come our way.
One time we saw a big one, leaving a trail of fire in its wake. We grinned at the sight and suddenly jumped as something fell to the ground about a few yards in front of us. Right dead straight in the center of the road. It was a charred corpse. Still smoking. It landed on its side and we could see the flesh and eyelids were burnt off. Lips too and you can see the teeth gritting. Eyes burnt and boiled through. Hair missing in burnt patches. Melted, wasted polyester suit fused with flesh. A smell like no other.
And the night was quiet.
And suddenly the sound of another corpse slamming to the earth.
And another. Straight into and through the branches of a nearby tree.
And another. And another. A rain of burning corpses. Dozens of them.
Then... silence. And a faint sound like far away thunder.
We waited and waited. Then went back to looking at the stars.
2008-12-07 20:44:12 ET
I heard that Walt Disney's sodomized and dilapidated corpse lies beneath that glowing behemoth that is Magic Mountain. His face, or what remains of it, a horrific, fear-stricken grimace. His eyes... eye holes reflecting the terror black as the moonless night. His asshole... torn open by his cartoon creations. On the stone slab on which he died and lies there can be found scratchmarks made by his torn, bloodied fingernails. A bitter question - "What have I done?"
One of these days I'd like to walk into a library and rent out "Fisting For Fun and Profit".
You ever fuck on top of a trash heap and reach down aimlessly and suddenly feel a used condom in your hand and you're thinking is that one of mine or is it some strange coincidence and then thinking may be I can recycle this... what? Why are you looking at me like that? No. No, that's never happened to me. Really. I mean it. Quit looking at me like that. It's creeping me out. Good god, you look like my nurse. Where the hell is my medicine?
2008-12-07 20:43:37 ET
[20:23] enamon23: fuck this
[20:23] enamon23: My X-Files script:
[20:23] enamon23: Mulder and Scully are pissed off about work and shit.
[20:23] enamon23: They go to a bar.
[20:23] enamon23: They get fucked up.
[20:24] enamon23: The lesser fucked up of them drives them back to a hotel they're staying at.
[20:24] enamon23: They never get there. They're abducted by lights in the sky.
[20:25] enamon23: The ETs strip them and tell them they are there for weird alien breeding experiments. Mulder and Scully assume that means they're going to be sodomized by aliens.
[20:25] enamon23: Instead the aliens, who Mulder and Scully never actually see but instead communicate with telepathically, tell them that they must breed with each other.
[20:25] enamon23: The next hour is Mulder and Scully fucking.
[20:25] enamon23: Then a light overtakes their chamber
[20:25] enamon23: They wake up in their hotel room on the floor
[20:26] enamon23: It's been trashed
[20:26] enamon23: There are whiskey bottles and love stains everywhere
[20:26] enamon23: The beds are overturned and they're both naked
[20:26] enamon23: They look into each other's eyes
[20:26] enamon23: "Was that real?"
[20:26] enamon23: "Did we really get abducted?"
[20:26] enamon23: Then Mulder gets a call on his cell.
[20:27] enamon23: It's his credit card company asking him if that $1,000 charge from Ol' Bubba's Liquor Store is legitimate.
[20:27] enamon23: Mulder asks if they got a signature. The credit card company said that they did and that it matches. Mulder said that it must have been him then.
[20:28] enamon23: He puts the phone down and just stares dumbfounded and naked Scully.
[20:28] enamon23: Mulder: What happened, Scully?
[20:28] enamon23: Scully: I don't know, Mulder. But I'm sure the truth is out there.
[20:28] enamon23: ::FADE OUT::
2008-12-07 20:43:10 ET
Hmm I'm working and thinking of starting my own business. It's a
website for people who want to adopt wolverines.
I figure wolverines are just like children but they need less care
(they fend for themselves!) and they can be considered
"This is Anna, my adopted daughter. She was born in some weirdly named
nation in Eastern Europe."
"Wow. That's... ok, I guess. I mean... I'm happy for you but... Have
you met my Wolverine? His name is Jack."
Are you in? I need something like $100,000,000 start up money. I'd
write a business plan but I'm all out of crayons.
I've got another business idea. You might've seen those Fresh
Direct trucks when you were walking around Manhattan. It's a website
where people and companies can order massive amounts of freshly
prepared food online and have the goods delivered to their front door.
My genius mind and I have stumbled upon another, quite similar idea
which we see as having a lot of upward potential.
I call it E-Liquor. It's pretty much a liquor store on wheels and
equipped with a high-speed internet connection. We don't worry about
the drivers getting DUIs (from dipping into the liquor supply)
because, and this is the genius part, all our "in-field" employees
are... dogs! Our highbrow team of overpaid lawyers have found the
perfect legal loophole. Dogs can't get tickets for DUI *and* dogs
don't need driver licenses! And they'll work for next to nothing. Just
give them a big bag of dog kibble and they're happy! Plus if anyone
tries to hold up the liquor truck it's already jam packed full of
furry killing machines with big teeth!
Now, of course, there is the issue of color-blindness in dogs. But
just look at it this way - if they can't get ticketed for DUI they
can't get ticketed for running a red light either!
They say it takes fifty muscles to frown but only thirteen to smile.
Thus I'm sure we can all agree - fat people don't frown enough. Hell
it's archetypical. Look at Santa. The original jolly fat man. Not like
the Grinch. He's fit as a fiddle. Why? All that frowning. Why, I'm
sure that if Dr. Seuss kept on with the story we'd find that the
Grinch died of a massive heart attack the next Christmas. See he
stopped frowning and that did him in. All that plaque clogging up his
Kinda makes you wonder. I mean, we're going through an obesity
epidemic right now. Why? One word. Prozac. Everybody and their
grandmother was on Prozac just ten years ago. That's a lot of freaking
smiling. Now you've got fat people ruling the streets. I say wean them
off that happy pill and shove them in a closet full of onions. Lots of
crying, lots of frowning. It's good for them. Working all those tiny
muscles. Christ, I should with the Nobel for this. I can see the
headlines now... "LOCAL MAN WINS NOBEL PRIZE FOR FROWNING."
2008-12-07 20:42:47 ET
Let's face it. The price of crude oil, over time, will keep on rising
and all those airlines who are already struggling due to high fuel
costs will soon find themselves broke and in the gutter. So what's a
poor airline to do?
Enter Sergey stage left.
Airlines can't keep cutting costs and jacking up ticket prices will be
suicidal. What do I propose? Use cargo planes.
Take a cargo plane and retrofit the interior so as to accept my newest
invention - Airline Passenger Capsules.
Remember those overhead bins on planes? The ones where you put all
your carry-ons? Now imagine the same thing, only stretched out to
accept the length of one human being, with straps, padding, and an
oxygen mask hanging from the ceiling. Got it? You get on the plane,
walk down the aisle, stuff your bags in a small compartment right next
to where your feet would be, then climb in, put on your oxygen mask,
strap yourself in, and relax. The oxygen mask, by the way, serves a
dual purpose. First off, in the event of an emergency, it will pump
pure oxygen into your lungs so at to keep you happy and alive.
Secondly (and most importantly), the oxygen mask will, during the
start of the flight, pump sleeping gas so as to keep you sedate,
sleeping, and satisfied through the whole trip. In fact, to you, it
will seem that that ten hour flight for some Las Vegas debauchery,
will be over in the blink of an eye.
The capsule is also safer than any airplane seat that has been
currently invented. It's made out of light, impact-resistant plastic.
This not only helps protect your precious little organs but also keeps
the overall weight of the plane down so that less fuel is consumed per
flight. Each capsule, in case of a fiery oceanic crash, will detach
from the main airplane body. This will lessen the shock of impact (the
majority of which will be absorbed by the capsule body and padding),
protect you from the flames (since each capsule is sealed and is
designed to be fire resistant), and keep you floating until that time
when you are found by rescuers. Just think about it. No more fire
eating away at your flesh. No more shrieks and screaming. No more
missing limbs. Just a few hundred capsules floating like pale dominoes
on the calm, blue sea.
And there are tons of other benefits. No more noisy passengers. No
more annoying toddlers kicking the back of your seat. No more
vomiting. No need to watch that New-On-DVD family comedy that brings
back the stabbing emotional grief of knowing that you were an orphan
that's been raised up by a traveling circus who's lived with the
moniker of Teddy The Wolf Boy for over half his sad, somber life. None
Instead, imagine a flight that goes by in a blink of an eye. A flight
punctuated by dreams of unicorns and origami. A flight that ends with
you waking up and climbing out of your capsule on some hot, tropical
beach, watching the locals scatter about you, and finding out that
your plane had crashed somewhere in the Pacific and that everyone
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