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

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.

I'm serious.

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
of that.

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

2008-12-07 20:42:33 ET

He had two dogs and they were Drano and Liquid Plumber. He said he
named them that so that they'd flush out trouble and liquidate his
enemies. But all they did all day was lounge around the yard and shit
in the most inappropriate of places. One of them shat in my shoe. It
was a good shoe. It was Italian. Liquid Plumber shat in my good
Italian shoe. And I think, last night, Drano sodomized a raccoon.

Before this he had cats. Only they weren't cats. They were servals. A
serval is another way of saying "crazy motherfucking African wild
cat". He had a pack full. He taught them to attack the gypsy children
who were always stealing tomatoes from the garden in his yard. After
the gypsy children nearby started mysteriously "disappearing" he
rounded up the servals and shot them all in the head to dispose of the
"evidence". We had good burgers the next day.

He told me the next animals he's going to get are going to be a pair
of pandas he had smuggled out from an illegal Chinese wild animal
preserve. He's going to film them in heat and, according to him, "make
millions selling panda porn to local zoos." Personally, I think he
just wants to fuck them himself. He just can't work up the nerve for
it. He tried that once with some ostriches he had. That's why now he
only has one testicle.

2008-12-07 20:39:19 ET

Does this womb come with a manual?

Not really, sir. Once it's installed your body pretty much knows what to do with it.

But I don't feel any different.

But of course! This model was designed for comfort.

So how do I know it works properly?

Well... let's see... see that book over there? That's Moby Dick. That's a pretty big, heavy book. Now say you want to take that on a road trip only... you've forgotten your luggage.

Alright so what do I do?

Just pull down your pants and shove it in your womb. Try it now.

Here? Oh well... alright. Hold on a second... ughn... hrk... it's a little... ok. It's in.

How does it feel?

Wow. Actually I don't feel anything.

Exactly. This model is designed for comfort. Ok. Now try jumping up and down. Yes, like that. Now what do you feel?

I feel... Moby Dick banging up my womb. Is this safe?

Absolutely. The interior is very well cushioned. In fact, we even have models that are designed for passenger carry.

Passenger carry?

Yes, when you want to smuggle small South American children across the Mexican-American border.

But won't they get bored?

Not with our new models. They come equipped with tiny flat screen displays and DVD players. It's a new option. We call it a "Womb With A View."

2008-12-07 20:38:57 ET

how many miles must i walk in my socks
they took my shoes so i wouldn't get out
but i try not to stay attached
i've gone to the bridge i'm going to drown

2008-12-07 20:38:42 ET

He would stay up at the late hours of night typing away at the keyboard. He had all sorts of journals and social networking profiles that he created under false identities - all of them women. Then he'd go on a spree friending a bunch of females and constantly checking their updates waiting for a moment of weakness. Then, when a girl looked like she might be going through a hard time emotionally he'd buddy up to her and convince her that life would be less complicated if she "...got into exotic dancing. Now I normally keep this advice for myself but I feel like you're one of my closest friends and us girlfriends have to stick together!" He grinned slyly as he tapped away on the grime covered keyboard thinking himself so fiendishly clever. And clever he was. Some still say he was, singlehandedly, responsible for the Great Stripper Boom of 2010.

2008-12-07 20:38:25 ET

I remember living in rural Pennsylvania as a young child. Our family was dirt poor but our childish naivete prevented us from seeing things as they truly were. I remember that for one day during each summer our father would load us up in the back of his pickup and drive us over to some rundown town down in Appalachia. He'd drive through it real slow and we'd look at all the inbreds and drunks sprawled around and point at the mutants that roamed those gravel roads and lived in shanty wooden husks that once used to be houses. Our dad called it the "Circus" and our little excursions were dubbed as "going to the circus." For years that's what "going to the circus" meant to us. Almost a decade later, when we moved to the city, he took us to see a real circus that was traversing the nation at the time. Stuffed full of acrobats and elephants and clowns and circus seals. I was never more disappointed in my life. I wanted to see the inbred halfwit with the dead fetus of a twin still attached to his forehead drunk on homemade whiskey and lazing about with a piss stain covering the crotch of his pants.

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