| College Memoirs 2010-04-01 06:42:16 ET |
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So back in good ole college I was testing out classes. You know, walking from class to class, sitting in on a professor's lecture and seeing how you liked it. Back then I was considering majoring in Philosophy because I heard that being a professional burger flipper was a viable career for a man of my status in ye old Generation XY. I made my way into Professor Mystaggos' Philosophy 101 class and sat slouched down in the back right corner of the class. Back right as in when viewed from the front and not the rear. Heh heh..."Rear". Anyways, the class was alright. To be quite honest I took a little nap and only awoke at the very end of class when Mystaggos was giving out the homework assignment. He told us to go out into the streets and ask your every day average people about what liberty, or the concept of liberty, meant to them.
I walked outside and the first person I ran into was one of those street performers who act like a statue. After asking him the question numerous times he just winced at me and I took that as a sign to scurry off.
The second person I approached was a hot dog vendor but the sweet smell of hot dogs distracted me from my task and I obtained two of the sweet meat treats.
I walked away from the guy and turned to a dark alley which would've lead me to places where I haven't been yet.
Out from the shadows came an overly made up girl. A prostitute. She propositioned me for sex and I, in no mood to haggle, gently declined. As her face turned from gentle calm to quick fierce anger I quickly blurted out my query in hopes of distracting her mind to more peaceful pastures.
"What is liberty to you?" I asked.
She thought for a moment and then replied that:
"Liberty is not having to plead innocence or guilty in a courtroom but instead sucking the judge's cock in the judge's chambers to get yourself off."
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| 2010-04-01 06:21:26 ET |
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Me (12:15:21 PM): hey
Me (12:15:32 PM): so I was reading up on serial killers and mass murderers
Me (12:16:14 PM): and there was this serial killer from India
Me (12:16:34 PM): who got caught and he escaped from prison by starving himself and squeezing through the bars in the prison cell window
Me (12:16:50 PM): He made his way to a shipping port and stowed away on a ship to Cuba
Me (12:17:03 PM): when he arrived there he started to live in a fisherman's shack on the coast
Me (12:17:21 PM): anyways, this was in 1961
Me (12:17:31 PM): the guy was a paranoid schizophrenic or something
Me (12:17:45 PM): anyways, when the Bay of Pigs invasion started
Me (12:18:29 PM): he ran out with a machete because he thought that the men with the guns came to arrest him and he started whacking at them until he was shot
Me (12:18:32 PM): They called him
Me (12:18:39 PM): The Butcher of Bombay of Pigs
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| 2010-04-01 03:56:26 ET |
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So yesterday this phone tech and I got into a conversation about driving in various states. No, not various states of mind you little druggies. I meant various states as in U.S. states. Though I guess saying U.S. states is technically irrelevant as technically that would mean United States states and saying States states is like speaking with a slight stutter stutter.
As I accidentally sliced the underside of my fingernail with the level tip we discussed the benefits of driving like a maniac through various jurisdictions. About the ghost morning fog in middle Pennsylvania that envelops you and swallows you whole like a misty Leviathan. About the Crown Vics parked ass down in the divide between the lanes down in Virginia, playing all stealth cop ninja until they spot you and start to give chase. Questions of "where the hell did he come from?" and "Holy shit, am I getting a ticket?" being thrown about. It seems like you should be extra careful driving through states with big budget problems. To them you're like a mobile piggy bank and they wield the hammers with which to break you.
Speaking of cars, I'm looking to buy one. A used one apparently as buying a new one comes with a small unforseen issue of huge insurance rates. Don't know why but a brand new Hyundai Accent hatchback will run me
8 FREAKING GRAND
with Geico.
I don't know. Geico seems to need my money like I need a hole in the head. No, wait...I don't need a hole in my head. Bad analogy. Not that I'm against trephination but if you're going to add a hole to my head please don't do it now.
INTERESTING FACT: JFK was trepanned on account of his wife. However he had a hair patch installed over the hole that inadvertently acted like a one way valve. Taking in air but not releasing it. Dallas is below the sea level so the air pressure is stronger there. As he was driven past Dealey Plaza a smooth cool wind blew past him and lowered the air pressure around the car to such an extent that the air pressure in his head....
LIKE A BALLOON.
I can't really tell you how I know this. It was part of the NDA I signed last Tuesday. Actually it would be more accurate to say "the Tuesday of last week" but that takes too long to type out.
How I sometimes wish that I had a typewriter. At least this keyboard kinda sounds like one. Clickety click click. It's no Clark Nova but, then again, nothing is.
It's not a sword cane. It's a gentleman's club.
Ba-dum-tish!
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| 2010-03-30 06:47:07 ET |
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You know what I hate?
When the chicken talks back.
When it cranes its neck up from the frying pan, looks me straight in the eyes and clucks out
"Hey, man, what are you doing with that cleaver?"
And then I neck it but it's still talking! Through the neck.
Man, chickens are weird creatures.
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| Non-alcoholic drinks for non-drinkers 2010-03-30 06:09:40 ET |
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On the Rocks
....on the rocks.
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| Universal Life Truths 2010-03-30 03:05:20 ET |
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When my girlfriend dreams of skiing
I wake up a happy man.
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